Snake Venom Ch 8

Chapter 8

Yeonwoo stared into the pitch black. After a while, his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to make out faint outlines of the interior.

The first thing he had to do was grasp the layout of the building in as much detail as possible. It was a time-consuming and risky task, but an essential one to secure hiding spots and escape routes. It was also necessary to prevent unnecessary injuries. A single wound could become a fatal handicap if the scent of blood attracted attention.

Walking with his back to the wall, Yeonwoo searched for traces left behind by those who had passed through earlier. Fortunately, it seemed no one had been here yet. Calmly, he examined the walls and floors.

Other than a large cabinet placed beside the door, not much seemed to have changed since the last time. Just as the sensation at his fingertips shifted, he paused and nudged his foot forward slightly.

As expected. The shards of glass he had shattered while fleeing yesterday were still there. Yeonwoo adjusted their positions slightly. He crushed some into finer pieces and scattered them, while pocketing a few conveniently sized ones as insurance.

Next, he moved to inspect the area near the stairs.

A scent brushed his nose—one that hadn’t been there moments ago. One human and one half-blood. Two distinct traces. Someone had passed through while he was searching elsewhere. Was it just in passing? Or were they still somewhere on the fourth floor? Yeonwoo hesitated. Should he go up? Down? Or stay put?

There was still time. If he could search one more floor, the third floor seemed the best option—it was the most familiar to him. Even if the layout had changed, it would still be the easiest for him to navigate.

Deciding quickly, Yeonwoo grabbed the stair railing and descended. Stepping softly to avoid the slightest noise, he halted suddenly.

Someone was there.

Not just a trace—an unmistakable presence. To identify them, Yeonwoo inhaled deeply, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

It was a cool, heavy scent, reminiscent of a rainy autumn night. Too faint to be a pheromone, yet too distinct to belong to a regular human. Among all the participants Yeonwoo had memorized, no one had this scent. He easily deduced the identity of the figure—it was this round’s sacrificial lamb in the herding game.

Yeonwoo descended fully and focused his sight. As expected, a silhouette stood in the dark. The man was tall and broad for a human, but in this place, where one had to survive against half-blood predators, his size was more a liability than an advantage—it made him an easier target. He stood motionless, not even breathing audibly. Likely frozen in panic.

Still, Yeonwoo double-checked. There were no dangerous pheromones or signs of aggression. He looked at the man.

Today was a day when, with enough stealth, survival was all but guaranteed. If the man wasn’t dangerous, Yeonwoo could simply pass by in peace. But he had already seen him. Maybe that was why he couldn’t move on. Or perhaps it was the personal belief he’d clung to—that even in a den of beasts, he wouldn’t forsake his humanity.

He stared at his feet, conflicted.

Trying to help could easily end with both of them in danger. He’d nearly died playing the good Samaritan more than once. Even so, Yeonwoo walked toward the man. This time, he planned to add a step he had skipped before. He had learned from experience that skipping introductions only led to frightened misunderstandings.

Stopping about three steps away, Yeonwoo whispered softly.

“I won’t hurt you. Whether or not you trust me is up to you, but I can only help you now.”

At his words, the man slowly turned his head. Yeonwoo couldn’t make out the details, but something complex and unfamiliar was affixed to the man’s head and eyes.

‘What is that?’

Maybe it was his limited vision, but more likely, it was simply something Yeonwoo didn’t recognize. If it had passed through President Park’s hands, it was undoubtedly another one of his manipulations. Perhaps the man’s size had prompted them to impose a handicap—just like Yeonwoo’s collar. If so, the man’s situation was even more disadvantageous.

Scanning the surroundings, Yeonwoo whispered again.

“I’m holding out my hand to you now. Take it.”

The man looked blankly at the hand flapping in front of him, then reached out. His fingers brushed Yeonwoo’s hand, then gripped his wrist where the bones jutted. The knuckles were thick and solid.

Yeonwoo flinched slightly, glancing down at the man’s hand. His calm and compliant reaction was unexpected. Had humans always felt this cool to the touch? Or was Yeonwoo’s own body so warm that it made others feel cold?

As the distance between them shrank, the scent grew stronger in Yeonwoo’s mind. Damp and refined, it reminded him of sleek black silk. He blinked.

Refined? That word didn’t belong in a place like this—a place of degradation and ruin. Cutting off the thought, Yeonwoo guided the man’s hand to rest against the wall.

“Stick close to the walls whenever you move. If you sense someone nearby, crouch low and stay still until they pass. If you absolutely have to run, don’t pick a new direction—double back the way you came and find a place to hide. That means you have to remember your path very clearly. Don’t get hurt. Carnivorous half-bloods are sensitive to the smell of blood.”

He gave as much information as he could. If the man’s fear had already frozen his reason, these instructions would be useless. But if he still had some drive and awareness left, he stood a chance. Yeonwoo had made it this far that way.

He pulled a shard of glass from his pocket and pressed it into the man’s hand.

“It’s better than nothing.”

“……”

The man didn’t say a word until Yeonwoo stepped away. That was understandable. He didn’t know enough to ask questions. But Yeonwoo, whose own situation was critical, couldn’t offer more.

“If you can just hold out until the broadcast….”

Yeonwoo’s voice trailed off as his eyes dropped. Footsteps were rapidly approaching from below. He pressed the man’s chest against the wall and flattened himself alongside him.

Peeking out to identify the new arrival, Yeonwoo frowned.

An aggressive pheromone steeped in the stench of sex. It belonged to the same half-blood who had threatened him earlier.

‘Of all people….’

His appearance raised the difficulty level of the game significantly. The half-blood took a deep breath and looked around with unhurried confidence, chest swelling as he sniffed the air. He hadn’t spotted them yet, but it was only a matter of time. He snorted derisively.

“They’re here somewhere. Where are you hiding?”

He had drunk deeply of both human and half-blood blood—he was a monster. Watching him warily, Yeonwoo glanced sideways at the man beside him, who still stood frozen. Yeonwoo might find a way to escape, but the man would be finished if caught. He’d never get to try any of the survival tactics Yeonwoo had explained. He’d simply be brutalized and go mad.

Yeonwoo had vowed not to meddle anymore. But the situation was far too unfair. His expression grew serious—then suddenly shifted as he caught a faint scent lingering around him.

“……”

A scent so memorable that someone who had never known peace could call it refined. But soon it would be drowned in blood, vanishing like its bearer.

Yeonwoo clenched the hand pressed against the man’s chest. The thought he’s firm came and went in a flash. He tapped the man’s chest a couple of times—a silent message to stay still, and also a brief goodbye. Then he took a step away and raised his voice.

“Hey, premature-ejaculator.”

The half-blood sniffing the floor jerked his head up.

“What? Premature what?”

His rising voice brimmed with ready fury. Yeonwoo began backing up toward the stairs to the fourth floor, swinging his arms exaggeratedly.

He had decided to help the man more. His reason—even to himself—was ridiculous: it was because of that scent.

It had been so pleasant it had temporarily lifted his mood. That was why he’d dared call it refined, why he’d clung to such a sentimental description. In a place where damp basement stink, noxious pheromones, blood, and sex constantly choked him, Yeonwoo had, for a moment, experienced an autumn night. That memory alone felt strong enough to sustain him for three days.

Whatever the reason, once he had decided, hesitation would only cost him. He recalled the glass shards on the fourth floor and called out:

“Yeah, premature-ejaculator. I didn’t even know crocodiles could be premature until you showed up.”

Beneath the railing, just within reach, was a small stool. Yeonwoo had brought it down himself.