Snake Venom Ch 7

Chapter 7

President Park’s insides twisted at the gentle yet firm refusal. If it were any other bastard, he would’ve drugged him and sold him off by now. But this half-breed son of a bitch had raised his own value through some unexpected little tricks. He’d become far more valuable than Park had initially assumed.

If only he had something to hold over him—but this guy was one of those rare fools who treasured the only thing everyone else gave up first: their own body. It was infuriating. By now, Yeonwoo’s hole should have been worn to perfection from use, but Park was still left sucking his fingers.

But selling him off against his will wasn’t an option either—not with his stake in the hunting ground on the line. Yeonwoo might die never knowing it, but more than half of their sponsorship income currently came from him.

Take away everything at once, and he’d lose the will to live. Even if the wallets of those who wanted Yeonwoo for themselves were tempting, one couldn’t just cut open the goose that laid golden eggs. If Yeonwoo suddenly decided he couldn’t take it anymore and killed himself, the loss would be immense. He was a massive asset to Sodom. He had to be slowly and meticulously bled—skin, bones, and all.

Still, having to tiptoe around this mutt’s moods wasn’t something Park welcomed. In fact, he detested it. Being on the submissive end for once felt like having sewage dumped all over him. Park abruptly stood up.

“Well, then… whatever.”

He muttered, lifting the still-steaming bowl of soup.

“What a damn waste.”

He tipped the bowl over Yeonwoo’s head, the broth and bits of food spilling down his hair and nose. Yeonwoo flinched but quietly accepted it. Park looked down at him with disdain.

“Why does our Yeonwoo not know his own worth?”

He seemed soft, but was absurdly stubborn. What kind of creature was this? This wasn’t the kind of unpredictability Park had hoped for. He gestured to the men behind him.

“Beat him—just not enough to break anything.”

He needed to vent at least a little.

Back in his room, Yeonwoo didn’t even have time to process anything. He knelt under the tap sticking out from the corner of the room and turned the water on. During the game, the scent of blood or food could give him away.

The ice-cold water rushed over his scalp and crown, shocking him awake. When it hit his bruised jaw and cheek, the pain was sharp enough to tear through him. Yeonwoo swallowed a groan and spat the blood pooling in his mouth. He rubbed at his cheeks to wash away the dried broth, pressing so hard his eyelids turned red.

“Bastard… fucking bastard.”

He thought even cursing him was a waste—but the words spilled out anyway.

It wasn’t Park’s abuse or humiliation that had broken him this much. What haunted him was the rolled omelet he hadn’t gotten to eat because of that single word—“stop.”

If only he’d just had one more bite. How petty and filthy it was to play with someone using food. Park was lower than an animal. The fact that such a base form of abuse had shaken him made Yeonwoo feel pathetic and absurd. Even as warmth spread under his eyes, that fat, yellow, plump omelet floated through his mind.

“Just deal with two of them.”

He counted the days since he’d been trapped here. The increasingly cold air each day reminded him of the changing seasons, yet Yeonwoo still hadn’t escaped.

He clutched at the leash he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. Up to this point, he had done everything he could. At first, it had taken three or four grown men to restrain him. He had clawed at locked doors until his nails came off. Even after being beaten to the edge of unconsciousness and threatened with disgusting videos, he had never given up on himself.

But just one sheet of paper from Park, and Yeonwoo became nothing more than a product.

If he couldn’t escape, he had to at least try to reduce his debt. But even that second-best option was no easy path. The rate at which his debt shrank was insultingly slow.

How much longer would he have to do this?

His days spun like a hamster wheel, his future a black void. Hope and will faltered several times a day. His mind felt like it might explode from all the overwhelming, negative thoughts. Would selling his body actually change anything? If he spread his legs for scum like Park, would things really be different…?

“……”

Yeonwoo cut off his thoughts, face twisting. His tightly sealed lips trembled and curved downward in a silent spasm.

The conviction he once thought was unshakable now felt weakened. The fact that he had to weigh such things made his situation feel all the more miserable. If his body was the only thing he had left, and he gave that away too, what would be left to protect him? He let his tears flow away with the cold water.

He had already lived a tough life as a mosaic hybrid. His parents didn’t just abandon him—they sold him. Even the grandmother he had clung to was gone now. And yet, Yeonwoo had wanted to live a decent life. He no longer wanted to carry the burden of that unfortunate label.

For now, all he could do was survive by sheer endurance, but he hoped that if he held on and protected himself, he’d someday see the light. When that time came, these present struggles would just be old memories. He wanted to nourish his future with those memories and plant roots in the world.

…And yet, he was falling apart over a damn rolled omelet. It was ridiculous. Yeonwoo let the cold water hit him for a long time, forcing out his feeble thoughts. The tears he shed by mistake were ignored, as though they’d never fallen.

He sat crouched like a stone, staring blankly at the running water for several minutes. When he finally turned off the valve and stood, his lips were blue from the cold.

There was no time for self-pity. Judging by the internal clock he’d honed over the past two months, the game would begin soon. He quickly dried his hair with a cloth that could barely be called a towel anymore. He had to bite down hard several times to contain the rising anger and push down the soaked, heavy feeling—but he overcame it.

A broadcast rang out, signaling the start of the hunt. Yeonwoo pushed his damp hair back with a sweep, a flicker of sorrow still red around his eyes—but his gaze gleamed icy blue, as if he’d never cried.

“I won’t fucking lose.”

The moment he solidified his resolve, the door opened. A rough hand grabbed the back of his neck and shoved a black cloth over his head. His molars throbbed where Park’s thugs had struck him. Yeonwoo ground down harder, sharpening his mind with the pain.

As always, he passed down the corridor, mentally recording every faint trace of pheromones. This was the most crucial opportunity to gather information on the other participants. Yeonwoo’s room was the innermost, and the scent changed at regular intervals. Because of this, he could distinguish between demi-humans and humans and even detect whether participants had been replaced.

Unless there was a major change, there were ten participants. Up to the sixth, they were the same demi-humans from yesterday. The next two were humans. The ninth—

“……”

Yeonwoo’s large eyes blinked under the black cloth.

—Was missing.

He sharpened his senses again, but there was neither a familiar scent nor a new one. Yeonwoo quickly calculated the date.

Now that he thought about it, a week had passed.

Sodom hosted irregular event games every seven to ten days. They would release a “human” who knew nothing of the game into the hunting ground and put a bounty on them—and it seemed today was one of those days.

A sheep drive. On this day, hunting the designated “sheep” yielded more profit than killing one another.

A human pushed into the depths of terror, and trained hunters—there was no question how it would end. As if prearranged, the participants would chase down and ravage the lone helpless human. The targeted sheep never lasted half an hour, either lynched or driven insane. It was inevitable. How could someone who didn’t even know the rules survive being hunted by nine wolves in a place like this? There was no mercy in this cruel system.

Thanks to the sacrificial human, Yeonwoo’s odds of surviving the day increased—but odds were only odds. There was no telling when some lunatic might change their mind and attack him instead. The emotional toll of allowing someone else to die never got easier either. Yeonwoo had nearly died in a similar event game once, and the mixed emotions doubled. That was the game where he had survived on a trickle of semen.

Remembering that dragged up the self-loathing he’d momentarily buried. He had exposed himself in an embarrassing, masturbatory scene to an unknown audience. Though it was nearly impossible to remain aware of the cameras in that chaos, the shame of having shown something so private still clung to him.

The man escorting him yanked his collar hard.

“What are you doing? Move.”

Yeonwoo had survived here for two months. No matter how much the organizers schemed, certain limitations couldn’t be changed—like the structure or number of floors. Unless the building was renovated, it would always be five stories. The walls designed to mislead were clearly different from the building’s original framework. Riding the elevator, Yeonwoo estimated the floor based on how long it vibrated. Today, it was the fourth floor. A man behind him said:

“Catch the new sheep, get five million won.”

Just as expected, the sheep drive game was beginning. Catching the sheep earned several times more than a day’s pay. Of course, Yeonwoo wasn’t a valid target.

A whistle marked the start.

It was hunting night.