Snake Venom Ch 21

Chapter 21

Lee Yeonwoo examined his situation. He was at a dead end. No, it would be more accurate to say he was drifting in a vast, boundless sea with no path in sight. As someone who had to wander through a dark, uncertain future like a mirage, a man had now come to him with a proposal. Only now.

He thought he understood why the man hadn’t proposed it yesterday. He had cornered him into a state where he couldn’t refuse, making him fully realize his situation. If the offer had come yesterday, he might have declined it out of the confidence that had carried him this far. Unaware of how ruthless the world could be.

Lee Yeonwoo had no right to resent the man’s cunning scheme or coldness. He ought to be grateful, in fact.

The current Lee Yeonwoo had been worn down by a reality too harsh for willpower alone to endure. It had been a day where he came to clearly understand his own limits. The only things he could do were to offer helpless refusals and impudent retorts—and even those came at the cost of violence, penalties, and extensions of his time under high-risk classification.

Could he still live righteously through that process? Could he endure the time spent constantly questioning the world, seeking justification for oppression? The answer was already tilting toward no. In just a single day. The man had given him time to realize that for himself.

Lee Yeonwoo couldn’t refuse. And because of that, he had to speak.

“I have a slightly sharper sense of smell than others. Just a little.”

The man listened to him in silence.

“My memory’s a bit better, too. If I focus, I can remember quite a bit. But it’s not that exceptional.”

Saying it out loud made his abilities seem all the more insignificant. When driven to the edge, anyone uses their abilities to the fullest. Even if he had seen the footage, he needed to be precise, or else they might later twist his words.

“This is all I have.”

Was that really enough? Had the man truly seen something in him? Yeonwoo muttered on, as if seeking confirmation.

“I haven’t been specially trained in anything. All I did was struggle to survive. I haven’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t greedy either.”

He didn’t even realize he was voicing the pain he had received that day.

Cheon Wooshin slowly leaned his upper body forward. Sensing the approach, Yeonwoo fell silent. He could feel the man’s gaze scanning over his face. Embarrassed, Yeonwoo lowered his eyes to the man’s hand—fixating on the crisp shirt sleeve and the wrist wrapped within it.

“You have a lot, Lee Yeonwoo-ssi.”

“……”

“Determination, perseverance, flexibility. Oh, and altruism too.”

‘Fucking blood. Fucking mindset.’

The voice of Jung Gisik, which had relentlessly stabbed at Yeonwoo’s insides, was now overlain by the man’s voice. It had been like that in the hunting ground, too. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” he had said in a detached tone that somehow sounded like comfort.

“And just add obedience to that.”

“……”

“It’s not difficult. Just follow my orders.”

Yeonwoo instinctively sensed that the work would be active, perhaps even dangerous. If the man had wanted someone to just sit at a desk and hold a pen, he wouldn’t have bothered pulling someone like him out of that sewer.

For Yeonwoo, cornered with no way out, only two choices remained: take the man’s hand, or continue living under high-risk classification. The first option, which offered a return to a normal life without the dirty label of criminal involvement, was the obvious choice.

But could he trust this man? What kind of mark would he leave on him? Would it be a deep longing like his grandmother had left, a bitter betrayal like his father’s, a filthy mockery like President Park’s, or painful scars like those left by the management office staff who had repeatedly stabbed at him? If he worked hard, would the man truly keep his promise? Just as these chaotic thoughts filled his head, the man lightly tapped the glass table—tap tap.

“If you become my dog—”

Yeonwoo lifted his eyes.

“—then at the very least, all the things that have belittled you will seem small in comparison.”

Being looked down on and ridiculed since Jung Gisik’s insults—none of it was what Yeonwoo had endured for. That was not why he had held on. When he remained silent, the man rose from his seat.

“Half a year at most should be enough. I can’t promise it will be safe, but I won’t let you be in danger.”

From three years to half a year. Could he really just seize such an attractive offer?

“I’ll take you on walks and feed you on time too.”

He had made a similar joke earlier. As Yeonwoo frowned slightly, the man’s eyes narrowed subtly.

“If it’s hard to answer right away.”

“That time.”

“……”

Cheon Wooshin looked at Yeonwoo.

“You were testing me, weren’t you.”

“Yes.”

Yeonwoo brought up their first meeting in the hunting ground, and Cheon Wooshin answered without hesitation. The confusion and conflict, the pitiful calculations and pathetic behavior Yeonwoo had displayed while passively tagging along in that place—none of it mattered to Cheon Wooshin. It had merely been time spent assessing whether Yeonwoo fit his criteria or not.

“Then…”

This proposal was never meant to be a choice for Yeonwoo. It had been decided from the start.

“So that’s how I was able to leave that place.”

Thinking of it that way, he felt a bit more at ease. Regardless of the man’s purpose, he was the one who had pulled Yeonwoo out. He had encouraged him with words like determination, perseverance, flexibility, and altruism, and pointed him toward a complete path home. It seemed he could trust him. No, he decided to trust him first again, just this once.

“I was planning to find a job once I got out anyway.”

Yeonwoo sniffled as he spoke.

“Even if it’s not for commuting, can I at least stop by home once?”

Cheon Wooshin, who had been quietly listening, responded.

“I’ll give you two days. No more than that.”

The man made a short call and said, “Get ready.”

“Someone will come here soon. They’ll take you home, so just ride with them.”

“Thank you.”

As Yeonwoo bowed his head, Cheon Wooshin extended his hand. When Yeonwoo opened his palm, the man picked up one of the two tubes.

“From now on, no matter who you meet, check if they carry this scent.”

The palm holding the tube had gone stark white. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping it tightly.

“Yes.”

It was a simple instruction, but Yeonwoo understood that this was what the man wanted most from him. When Yeonwoo answered, Cheon Wooshin stood up.

“I’ll contact you. And—”

Cheon Wooshin picked up the coat draped over the sofa and handed it to Yeonwoo.

“Wear this.”

Yeonwoo accepted the coat with a dazed look. Though it had a tailored design, the texture was as soft as silk. It looked obviously expensive. Was it really okay to just hand it over like this? Besides, it was raining outside. As Cheon Wooshin reached for the doorknob on his way out, he suddenly tilted his head as if something occurred to him.

“Oh.”

He turned to face Yeonwoo.

“Lee Yeonwoo-ssi.”

“Y-Yes?”

Yeonwoo looked up abruptly at the voice.

“Am I human, or a half-human?”

“……”

It was a question without context. But the man’s gaze clearly showed that he wanted an answer. Though it didn’t seem like another test, it was an easy question—and Yeonwoo answered earnestly.

“You’re human.”

He definitely carried a scent, but it was different from the pheromones of a half-human. It was merely a mix of artificial fragrance and his own body’s scent. Cheon Wooshin was indeed human.

A stillness followed. Then Cheon Wooshin gave a light shrug.

“I thought you had a dog’s nose.”

This time, he was openly teasing him.

“If not, then does that mean you’re already treating me like your superior?”

It was hard to understand the intention behind his words. Was he asking to be treated like a superior? Or suggesting that Yeonwoo pretend to have a keen sense of smell? Was it a joke? Lowering his eyes briefly, Yeonwoo decided to speak. If you don’t know how to match someone’s rhythm, it’s best to just change the subject altogether.

“What should I call you from now on? Team leader?”

It was the first time he had ever directly spoken someone’s title. Feeling oddly curious, Yeonwoo muttered it softly under his breath and looked up.

“Team Leader Cheon Wooshin?”

For just a moment, Cheon Wooshin paused. His previously stiff lips slowly curved upward into a charming smile.

“I’ll contact you.”

Thunk. The door closed.

As the second hand ticked loudly from the wall clock, the dazed Yeonwoo blinked slowly. He didn’t know why—but something around his solar plexus had suddenly started to itch. He scratched the back of his head for no reason.

“Why does a person… smile like that.”

A familiar scent drifted from the navy coat. It was Cheon Wooshin’s scent.