Snake Venom Ch 39

Chapter 39

As he entered the room, Cheon Wooshin yanked at his tie that was choking his neck. His body temperature was plummeting rapidly.

Each capillary and nerve bristled like thorns and thrashed about, while his reason fluttered aimlessly. It couldn’t be stopped or restrained. Once it began, it surged uncontrollably. Forcing down a sense of helplessness, Cheon Wooshin tightened his throat and airways. Even self-inflicted pain was of no use. Today again, he was stepping squarely into the realm of disgust.

His fingertips were so cold they stung. Inside, a nameless heat made even his eyeballs burn. It felt as though someone was pressing down on his shoulder blades while searing the back of his head with a branding iron.

“Hoo…”

Rubbing the nape of his neck with his palm, Cheon Wooshin dropped his head low. Standing motionless and staring at the floor, the area around his pupils revealed faint veins tinged with poison.

His phone vibrated. It was Seolkyung.

His heart rate and temperature fluctuations were being reported to her in real time. Perhaps the erratic spikes in those figures had triggered her call, coming sooner than usual.

— The suppressant?

Her voice dove straight to the point, skipping any greeting, laced with a concern she couldn’t fully conceal.

“About to inject it now. I’m a bit late.”

A sigh drifted from the other end of the line.

— Didn’t I tell you to administer it at the scheduled time? I always say, no matter how important work is, do the most important thing first—

“If you’re going to nag, I’m hanging up.”

Just when it had been quiet, she couldn’t help herself and started nagging again. Without hesitation, Cheon Wooshin pressed the end call button. Scheduled time, scheduled dosage—he knew those better than anyone.

A carnivorous bear-type hybrid. A half-human. He had caught a lead in Sodom, the dumping ground of failures, but had expected from the start that it would only be a severed tail. After all, it was probably someone discarded. Still, he’d hoped, even just a little, that it might help him find a bigger clue. Even if it was a lie or nonsense, Cheon Wooshin was willing to listen. Because right now, even the most insignificant crumbs of clues were desperately needed.

That’s why he believed he had neither the time nor mental space to waste on petty revenge or retribution. But perhaps he had been more enraged than he thought. The way his temper exploded during the interrogation, without even realizing it himself, was proof enough.

Staring down at the floor, Cheon Wooshin blinked mechanically. He recalled himself repeatedly firing bullets into a corpse and the sensation that had accompanied it. He didn’t deny the perverse thrill that had sparked like electricity.

“……”

Once again, it struck him—his madness knew no bounds. The fickle and cruel impulses had grown stronger by the day.

He took slow breaths, focusing all his nerves on his frozen fingertips. It was a slow and harrowing process. During it, Cheon Wooshin had to endure his homicidal impulses that had no target and suppress his self-destructive urge to bash his head into a wall.

As time passed, the nausea and dizziness subsided slightly. Lifting his head, Cheon Wooshin headed to the bathroom. Steam leaked out through the crack in the door. He stripped off his jacket and shirt and threw them straight into the trash bin. The stench of filth clinging to them from the building still seemed to linger.

Now naked, Cheon Wooshin gripped the sink and lowered his head. It was an effort to endure the chills engulfing his entire body with some semblance of composure.

With every breath, his thick back and chest slowly expanded, and his taut muscles and tendons writhed ominously. What was he supposed to do with this unpleasant sensation that wouldn’t fade even after killing several people? His forearm muscles, clenched around the sink, bulged threateningly.

After enduring that wave once more, he took a small leather case from the cabinet. His fingertips visibly trembled, but he ignored it and opened the lid. Inside was a pen-type injector capable of administering multiple doses of a set amount of medication.

There was no pharmaceutical logo or information code—it could easily be mistaken for an illegal drug. But it was a temporary suppressant developed for those addicted to serpent venom. Currently, it was the only aid allowing Cheon Wooshin to continue living as a human.

He disinfected the injection site and fitted a new needle onto the injector. Then he gave it a gentle shake to mix the medication thoroughly before twisting the cap to set the dosage. He would be injecting 20cc—twice the initial dose, already the maximum limit.

Without hesitation, he pierced his skin with the needle the moment he removed the cap. He was so practiced at this daily routine that the feeling of the needle penetrating his flesh no longer registered as pain.

While injecting the drug, Cheon Wooshin looked up at the ceiling, then suddenly grasped the edge of the sink. His vision blurred as the alcohol swabs and leather case merged and multiplied before coming back into focus. Cheon Wooshin held his breath until his vision stabilized again.

Although faster than pills, the suppressant still needed a bit of time to take full effect. The sensation of dampening his scrambled sympathetic nerves and suppressing the grotesque amplification was, as always, fucking unbearable.

Clenching his molars, Cheon Wooshin stepped into the bathtub. The water overflowed, thick steam billowing up. He curled himself tightly, like a beast seeking warmth, and submerged completely.

“The timeline is one year. Until then, give it your all.”

His tightly shut eyelids trembled faintly.

“If you raise the dose arbitrarily, either your brain will fry or your heart will stop—so be careful.”

His black hair floated gently, brushing against his pale skin.

“I’m not going to let you end up like Sejun.”

Cheon Wooshin suddenly sat upright, clear water streaming down his skin. Water cascaded from his hair and eyelashes. He froze, soaked to the crown of his head, unmoving for a long while.

Gradually, warmth seeped into skin that had seemed incapable of melting. The thorny sensations dulled, and his mind cleared. As the vague, unknowable, unwanted irritation faded, only then did he let out a long breath. Cheon Wooshin leaned back against the tub wall. Resting his arms on the edge, he tilted his head back.

Even with the suppressant, madness would return someday. Increasing the dosage only meant new side effects. One way or another, he would end up dragged back to the lab and turned into just another piece of meat.

Tapping the edge of the tub, Cheon Wooshin gazed up at the ceiling. In the moisture-laden bathroom, he alone seemed to be drying out and withering.

The heavy silence, as though time had stopped, didn’t last long. Cheon Wooshin clenched and then relaxed his hand on the tub’s edge and slowly stood up. Water ran down his sleek, sculpted form.

Suddenly, his canines felt particularly sharp. Cheon Wooshin ran his tongue along the unusually pointed tooth and draped a bath towel over his body.

It was time to go see Lee Yeonwoo.

The first thing Lee Yeonwoo did after gently laying Cheon Wooshin on his bed was to bind both his hands as tightly as possible. He felt he had to at least immobilize one limb—arm or leg—so that if Cheon Wooshin regained consciousness, he might still have a chance. He used the long shower towel he had spotted in the bathroom.

Touching his hands in the process, he was startled. It might’ve been a symptom unique to addicts, but he couldn’t believe human skin could be this cold. Lee Yeonwoo pulled the blanket up to cover him to his neck.

Having done all he could, Yeonwoo backed away from Cheon Wooshin and exhaled cautiously. Even the sound of breathing felt like something he shouldn’t risk.

He checked the digital wall clock. Time hadn’t stopped, yet everything that had happened with Cheon Wooshin had lasted only ten minutes. In fact, more time had passed waiting for the repairman to arrive.

As expected, the one knocking violently at the door was Seolkyung.

— Open up. The password isn’t working.

‘Well… the door won’t open from the inside either.’

— It won’t open?

From her reaction, clearly unaware, Yeonwoo guessed the truth. A lock that prevented the door from opening both from inside and outside—perhaps it was a final safeguard put in place by the human Cheon Wooshin. Of course, the altered Cheon Wooshin had used it more as a trap than a safety measure.

Yeonwoo stood at the threshold between the room and the living area. It was the perfect position to both monitor Cheon Wooshin’s condition and keep an escape route open.

This was his best idea, yet if Cheon Wooshin were to rise again like before, it would be useless. Still, he remained there without fear. Why? Was it clouded judgment, or had he truly lost all sense of fear? Yeonwoo quietly watched Cheon Wooshin, who now slept like a child unaware of the world.