Snake Venom Ch 3

Chapter 3

“So it’s the element of surprise, the twist—that’s what the audience likes.”

Lee Yeonwoo picked up on a hint from what President Park had said. Stimulating the audience’s interest in a way that hadn’t been done before. It was the only way to raise his value without harming others or himself.

In other words, that method was his only path to survival. Lee Yeonwoo quietly regulated his breathing.

He hadn’t even formulated a concrete plan yet when a sharp, monotonous whistle rang out in the hallway. It was the signal that the gates of hell were opening—a sound he would hear every night from now on. Cold sweat trickled down his back even though he hadn’t done anything yet.

The sound of heavy iron doors opening and closing approached from a distance. Eventually, his door swung open and roughly built men entered.

As one of them covered his head with a cloth, darkness enveloped his vision. His heart began to pound in tandem. The wild thumping of his heart made him feel faint, but Lee Yeonwoo imprinted the pheromones scattered in the air into his memory through scent.

Just before they turned a corner, the first pheromone he had ever smelled here struck his nose again. It belonged to the man who had been acting violently. Now that he smelled it up close, it seemed the man’s transformation had partially progressed. He was a type that needed extra caution.

Clang—the sound of a heavy iron door shutting was followed by the scent of wood and grass. It wasn’t until his feet touched the soil that Lee Yeonwoo realized he was barefoot. The coarse, stinging sensation underfoot brought back clarity to his fading consciousness.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since they exited the building when he felt a smooth surface beneath him—it was a new building.

The ground vibrated and then stopped. It felt like they had taken an elevator and disembarked. Whether it was due to the cloth over his face or sheer tension, his breathing grew shallow, as though he were suffocating.

This can’t go on. Regaining his composure, Lee Yeonwoo retraced every step and every motion that had brought him here. He tried to recall any trace left behind by others.

His slower pace must have irritated the man beside him, because he gave Yeonwoo a hard shove in the back.

“What’re you doing? Move it.”

He heard the iron door shut behind him, and one of the men unlocked his handcuffs. This was the true beginning. Just as he was coming to grips with that, a sly voice spoke from behind.

“Pretty boy, still haven’t changed your mind?”

President Park, using a belittling term, sounded certain of Yeonwoo’s eventual surrender. The tension was so intense it made bile rise in his throat, but Lee Yeonwoo replied calmly, pretending composure.

“No.”

“Wow, feisty, aren’t you?”

Once again, he was shoved, and the cloth covering his face was pulled off. Lee Yeonwoo’s eyelids slowly lowered and then rose again. President Park smirked and said,

“If you really can’t do it, just signal in front of any camera. Then we’ll pull you out. But only tonight, got it?”

“……”

It was madness. How was he supposed to find a camera in here? What Park had just said was nothing more than a contradiction-laden mockery.

A bizarre electronic sound announcing the start blared loudly, but Lee Yeonwoo still couldn’t move. His fingertips were already frozen, and his lips, unable to even draw in air, merely opened and closed. His dirt-covered toes curled in and turned pale.

“……”

It was as if black ink had been poured over everything—pitch darkness surrounded him.

The man walking down the dim hallway moved at a leisurely yet composed pace.

With his forehead exposed and dressed in a finely tailored suit, he exuded the elegance and poise of a young nobleman who had just finished a banquet.

As he walked with measured steps, his gaze shifted to the paintings hanging on the walls. These were undoubtedly expensive pieces worth millions, collected purely for display. His black eyes skimmed over them indifferently, a blend of boredom and sharpness flickering within them.

He came to a stop in front of a door reminiscent of a theater entrance. The guards stationed on either side glanced at him briefly. Though used to intimidating others with their bulk and height, even they couldn’t help but tense up in the commanding atmosphere this man radiated.

Sensing their gaze, the man looked at them. His expression was indifferent beneath long eyelashes, but the quick-witted guard immediately returned to his duties.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

After confirming his identity and conducting a body search, the man passed through without difficulty.

The heavy door opened slightly, and music could be heard from afar. As the door shut firmly behind him, the man casually unbuttoned the top of his shirt collar. Rotating his neck to loosen his muscles, the formerly rigid aura about him began to soften. As he passed through an arched inner doorway, even his footsteps shifted into something more languid, almost delinquent. He rubbed his relaxed eyes lazily, transforming into an entirely different person in an instant.

Crossing the lavish lobby—a space clearly drenched in money—he approached a large sunken area like a sinkhole, its gaping mouth releasing the blaring music.

Descending the spiral staircase, the man tousled his hair and even loosened his tie. By the time he reached the bottom, he had fully assumed the persona of a libertine, and before him stretched a wide, open space.

The thundering club music was the only indicator that a party was in full swing. The enormous leather sofas, large enough for several grown men to sprawl out on, were occupied by people mostly passed out from drugs. The few still conscious were clinging to each other, panting.

Among those who were moving their hips or spreading their legs—unclear whether they were giving or receiving—were individuals with animal ears and tails like costumes. They were half-human hybrids who sold sex for money.

The man nimbly stepped over discarded liquor bottles and wet floors, passing by them. His gaze was fixed on the most extravagant and secretive part of the building. Just as he paused to look through the glass wall, someone staggered into him, bumping his shoulder.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!”

The person raised both hands in an exaggerated apology and lifted his head. The dilated pupils and pale skin made it obvious he was a serious addict. He slowly looked the man up and down and soon gave a bleary smile with sleepy eyes.

“Are you the new whore? Nice body. How much for a round?”

Assuming a clearly sober man was a prostitute—just from the contrast with himself—revealed just how drugged out he was. Though it could’ve been offensive, the man simply smiled.

“I don’t do anyone who’s high.”

The other man gave a sloppy laugh, clearly not caring. As he reached out a hand that had been in his pocket, he continued speaking.

“You stink.”

Contrary to his calm tone, the man grabbed the other’s head and shoved it violently.

He didn’t even glance at the man who collapsed with a thud. He wasn’t worth engaging. Once the drugs wore off, he wouldn’t remember a thing, too busy trembling from withdrawal. A clumsy curse followed from behind, but the man only quickened his pace with an expression of mild annoyance.

He eventually arrived at the promised meeting place. Structurally similar to the area beyond the glass wall, this space held slightly more composed individuals lounging about. The man stopped in front of the most luxurious table and leaned on one leg. His dry, scratchy gaze settled on a man too absorbed in his tablet screen to notice anything else.

His name was Shin Junseong—this was the man he had come to meet. The central lip piercing and dark, eyeliner-like eyes were his signature look. With natural business acumen and a taste for hedonism, Shin Junseong had veered from a conventional life path and made a name for himself in the drug trade before he even turned thirty.

Suddenly irritated, Shin Junseong shouted without looking up,

“Turn off the music! It’s too damn loud!”

Even with the man’s heavy gaze fixed on him, Shin Junseong remained focused on the tablet.

“You too, get lost.”

He kicked away the man who was trying to crawl between his legs while still glued to his screen. The room quieted as if cold water had been splashed over it. The man glanced around the hushed interior, then turned his eyes back to Shin Junseong. Watching the restless darting of his eyes and anxious movements, the man spoke as if analyzing him.

“What’s got you so engrossed?”

Startled by the distinct and assertive voice, Shin Junseong looked up instinctively. He grinned, revealing his slightly crooked teeth—a smile both decadent and boyish.

“You’re here? Just a sec. This is a guerilla stream with first-come-first-served access, so let me just get in before we talk.”

The man watched him in silence for a moment, as if debating something, then sat diagonally across from him. A server waiting by the wall approached. Just as the server opened their mouth to address the man, Shin Junseong glanced briefly at them and said,

“He doesn’t take anything I offer him. Don’t bother.”

“Ha! Got it.”

With a satisfied exclamation, Shin Junseong clutched his head and sprawled across the sofa. He took a deep breath that puffed up his chest, groped around the table, and took a drink.