Snake Venom Ch 42

Chapter 42

“If it’s not you, this incident won’t be something to solve anymore, but a trigger for an explosion.”

It’s a drug that turns humans into monsters. For now, it’s limited to an investigation, but if it’s handled differently, it will become a prey of immense value politically, militarily, and economically. It was clear that the snake venom would be exploited for mutual gains.

Signs of this had already begun before Cheon Wooshin took charge of the case. The investigation, which had been passive and fruitless, was being closed, and factions were dividing between those willing to go to war and those wanting to hold on a little longer. This internal conflict, bound by selfishness, was the beginning of self-destruction and ruin.

So far, Cheon Wooshin was skillfully weighing both sides from the center, but if even he collapsed, the situation would deteriorate beyond control.

Seolkyung, who declared there was no one but Cheon Wooshin, had in fact been one of those who opposed his appointment. She had wished for nothing more than for him to be excluded from this affair—because she was once the deputy director of research at The Giver Bio, where she had developed a suppressant for hybrids, and also the wife of Cheon Sejun, the first person to become addicted and the one who endured the longest before leaving this world.

She had lost her husband, Cheon Sejun—Cheon Wooshin’s older brother—and could not afford to lose the only remaining blood relative of the man she loved.

“Just keep doing what you need to do.”

But Cheon Wooshin had voluntarily taken the job. The reason both of them were clinging to this case was the same: guilt for not having protected their loved ones, and a thirst for revenge. On top of that, a venomous resolve born from the refusal to back down any further after Cheon Wooshin himself became addicted.

“I will too.”

She would do anything to find the antidote—for the remaining addicts hanging on, for the one she had loved and lost. That was the purpose of Seolkyung’s life, living only because she couldn’t die.

“But I hope you’ll keep Lee Yeonwoo by your side at all times.”

Cheon Wooshin, who had been listening silently with a resigned expression, finally changed his expression at that moment. Sensing he might protest, Seolkyung quickly added,

“You met all the conditions for symptom manifestation—decreased heart rate, lowered body temperature, and even loss of consciousness. But unlike the other addicts, you talked to Lee Yeonwoo, and you locked the door yourself. You restrained yourself to prevent harm to others. Except for the amnesia, you didn’t transform like the others.”

Cheon Wooshin remained silent, signaling her to go on.

“I believe there’s still a chance, since no violent tendencies have emerged yet. I don’t know how many more times it’ll happen… It could already be the last, but that’s all the more reason to try. Whatever it takes.”

Cheon Wooshin paused before shaking his head. He understood what she was trying to say—but this wasn’t it.

“He’s extremely unfit to be a monitor.”

In some ways, Lee Yeonwoo was clearly capable and had achieved more than what was asked of him. But no matter how competent he might be, he was still an untrained civilian. In real-life danger, where even professionals hesitated, an unseasoned person like him could easily become a liability.

What was he supposed to do with someone who had never even fired a tranquilizer gun, stuck to him 24/7? At that cold, realistic assessment, Seolkyung nodded.

“As you know, there’s one more condition for symptom manifestation.”

At those words, Cheon Wooshin’s gaze turned serious.

The final condition Seolkyung had identified for symptom manifestation actually included four elements. One was an increase in pheromones that couldn’t occur in humans. But because pheromones were a means of communication among half-humans, they couldn’t be detected by simple biological monitors. Even among affected humans, the pheromone levels were so faint that it took special equipment to detect them. That’s why they usually relied on the previously known symptoms.

“You know best—Lee Yeonwoo has a sharp sense of smell. He’s already detected your pheromones and was even able to distinguish the level of increase.”

Cheon Wooshin glanced at Lee Yeonwoo. Judging from his expression, the two had already discussed it.

A poor and shabby background, and abilities more exceptional than anyone else. Was she saying he applied that same assessment to him as well? If so—

“You said I was human, didn’t you?”

‘Am I human or half-human?’

When he tested him, Lee Yeonwoo had unhesitatingly judged him to be human. When asked how he could explain that now, Lee Yeonwoo scratched his head.

“Oh, that… At the time, I just thought it was a nice perfume. It was so faint that I could only think of it that way.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s not that it doesn’t smell at all or that it’s super strong, but… kind of mildly strong.”

Lee Yeonwoo’s answer was subjective and vague, based on his own criteria. Cheon Wooshin used that as a counterargument.

“And yet a nationally certified researcher in hybrid physiology made such a quick decision?”

Cheon Wooshin couldn’t accept it. But Seolkyung was just as firm.

“We couldn’t increase the dosage of the suppressant in time because we couldn’t measure pheromone levels in real-time. Humans don’t have the hormone regulators that half-humans do. But with Lee Yeonwoo’s help, it might be possible.”

When Cheon Wooshin didn’t respond, Seolkyung raised her voice slightly.

“We don’t have time. Like you said, this is our last chance. What wouldn’t we try?”

“……”

“Otherwise, I’ll have to report you to headquarters right now. You’ve met the conditions for manifestation, so you’re….”

Even without hearing it, he understood what was left unsaid in the silence. Seolkyung’s hand covered the back of his.

“Wooshin, I’m on your side to the end.”

Seolkyung had kept Cheon Wooshin’s addiction a secret from the beginning. It was because of how depersonalized the handling of addicted individuals had become. The situation, which was expected to last at least a year, had deteriorated in just three months. It was despairing. But since she had chosen to be his ally, there was no turning back for her either. Now that things had come this far, she wanted to go even further.

“As you know, there’s no ideal tranquilizer for someone who’s neither fully human nor half-human. But I’ll give it to you. In return for keeping the secret, I’ll give you something even stronger than last time.”

Even so, that meant accepting the risk of a situation where it wouldn’t be strange if his heart stopped at any moment.

“I’ll give the suppressant to both you and Lee Yeonwoo.”

“Seolkyung.”

The hastily crafted plan was riddled with holes and sloppily put together. Though Cheon Wooshin tried to stop her with a cold voice, Seolkyung shook her head resolutely.

“This is the last desperate struggle I can make.”

Since Cheon Sejun’s death, she had fought hard to care for Cheon Wooshin, living each day as if walking on thin ice. Now that even he was on the edge of the cliff, she was more venomous than ever.

“You said it yourself—you’d rather die during the investigation. You’re the one who asked for help.”

“……”

“When the next symptom hits, use everything you can. Inject the extra suppressant. If that doesn’t work, use the tranquilizer. Whether you pass out, get restrained, or shoot yourself in the head—do it all.”

By listing all of Cheon Wooshin’s possible ends, she was actually asserting that this wasn’t the end yet.

“If even that doesn’t work and you’re caught, then I’ll kill you myself. So you won’t end up like Sejun.”

Seolkyung’s desperate and unrelenting persuasion was essentially a promise to buy him time. As the situation spiraled in unpredictable ways, she was saying to use whatever means were left to fight just a little harder.

She remembered the tragic end of Cheon Sejun, wrecked by endless drug reactions and inhumane experiments. The weak eyes that muttered they wanted to die, the way he clung to her like a child, begging not to be left alone—Seolkyung no longer cried. Instead, her bloodshot eyes now supported Cheon Wooshin’s perilous fight.

Cheon Wooshin fell into thought. If, as Seolkyung said, this was the last chance—what wouldn’t he try? There wasn’t much time left anyway. His current situation was no different from a death sentence. He had no regrets about the life he had lived, but for Sejun, who had died but never truly rested, he wanted to do something to the end.

In a way, it was also the most rational answer in this situation. To prevent further casualties, control symptoms with tranquilizers, monitor them with Lee Yeonwoo. Yes, these were all supplementary measures to extend the secrecy.

Let’s consider it meaningful that he could continue the investigation just a bit longer. That would be enough. If he could just do something before the side effects returned—

Cheon Wooshin lowered his eyes. Seolkyung’s hand, which covered his, was trembling. As he silently looked down at it, Seolkyung suddenly stood up.

“Then I’ll take that as a yes.”

Though self-serving, Seolkyung had interpreted Cheon Wooshin’s silence correctly and began busily moving to fulfill her role. No sooner had she sent a message than a phone call came, and she stepped away for a moment.

Cheon Wooshin turned his head toward Lee Yeonwoo, who was keeping quiet and only shifting his gaze. There were many things he wanted to say to someone who had gone along with Seolkyung’s logic and stepped so easily into a dangerous plan. But more than anything—he was curious. What had he done while Wooshin had lost his memory to prompt Seolkyung to propose such an idea?