Snake Venom Ch 77

Chapter 77

Cheon Wooshin’s plan had both clear purpose and unassailable justification. It was to save those already harmed and to ensure no more fell prey to the venom. To accomplish that, the enemy’s base had to be identified and the master behind the serpentine toxin apprehended as swiftly as possible.

Under that objective, many moved as though sharing a single body. It was not because Sio had sinned, nor because his life was deemed lesser. The enemy’s scheme had to progress seamlessly for Wooshin’s operation to stand the greatest chance of success. That was the truth—yet, yet… The resolve Yeonwoo believed he had firmly settled began to unravel, looping back to its starting point like an inked circle.

At that moment, Wooshin’s hand flicked lightly against Yeonwoo’s hair, almost insolently.

“What are you thinking about?”

Yeonwoo blinked, gathering himself a beat late before turning his gaze. The eyes that had deliberately avoided him all day now fixed on him with stark clarity.

“Still.”

Wooshin began to speak, then paused, his gaze drifting toward the void before shifting slowly. One brow arched then fell, casting a sudden, fierce shadow over his expression. Perhaps because hesitation—something so uncharacteristic of him—briefly surfaced, Yeonwoo took in every minute twitch of his face, every shift in his eyes.

Those black irises, sunk deep, sharpened in a way that felt perilously raw. Yeonwoo had seen that look before.

Searching his memory, he found it quickly—the moment Wooshin had clung to him, body writhing in pain, refusing the hospital. Eyes brimming with turmoil, emotion too tangled even he could not name. Remembering it, Yeonwoo let out a small breath without thinking.

“Oh…”

Because Wooshin had always presented himself composed and cold, Yeonwoo had forgotten. Forgotten that no one agonized more over these decisions than the man beside him. While others would have been crushed by helplessness, he had gritted his teeth and advanced. No one desired success more desperately. Carrying such a brutal plan—how much inner torment must he have endured?

And in front of someone like that, Yeonwoo had voiced doubt, revealed personal sentiment. It was mortifying.

Seeing the flicker of unrest buried in Wooshin’s eyes steadied Yeonwoo’s own heart. He met Wooshin’s gaze head-on.

“You’re right. I do feel sorry for him.”

Wooshin’s eyes narrowed, as if testing the weight of the words.

“And I can’t help forming attachments easily. That’s just who I am.”

Letting the truth spill eased him unexpectedly; a lightness washed through him. If only he had spoken plainly sooner, instead of fumbling and disappointing him for nothing.

He tilted his head back, inhaling deeply. Wooshin’s scent lingered faint in the air, familiar as ever.

The traffic lights shifted. The once-still road burst into motion, engines humming. As Wooshin followed the taxi with a smooth turn, Yeonwoo continued, eyes tracing the sculpted line of his profile.

“But that doesn’t change anything. No matter what you decide, I will follow you.”

No response. Wooshin’s gaze did not return to him. He simply watched the taxi ahead, steering with practiced ease.

Even knowing they were in the midst of an operation, Yeonwoo could not suppress the ache for Wooshin to look at him—just once. He swallowed the restless impatience and tried again.

“I made a promise too.”

Quiet met him. Attachment, hesitation, loyalty—none of these could be severed in a single night. They had become teammates. They had exchanged secrets no one else could be trusted with. Wooshin had dragged him from ruin and saved him. They now shared a dangerous weakness.

Even if countless victims and ticking threats weighed on the world, Yeonwoo’s priorities stood in a different order. No matter how many times he replayed the past, he would not warn Sio. He would not change his choice. He would always choose Wooshin.

Because it was simple. Yeonwoo was Wooshin’s hound. Once claimed, once entrusted with that vulnerable flaw, he would fulfill his place without wavering. For now, what matters most is your path—not mine. It was the greatest support someone with narrower vision and less experience could offer.

Still, Wooshin remained silent. A crack in his expression deepened into something almost savage. Whatever clarity Yeonwoo had glimpsed before now clouded into pitch darkness.

Was there a clearer way to prove his resolve? Yeonwoo cleared his throat softly.

“So, um…”

Wooshin glanced at him briefly, then looked forward again. Yeonwoo forced the words out, hesitant, foolishly earnest:

“Should I… try barking once?”

“…What?”

The car jolted as it rolled over a speed bump, shuddering violently.

Sio felt something was wrong. Why were they going the opposite direction?

“This doesn’t look right, sir.”

The driver glanced at him through the mirror, voice dry.

“You don’t know, do you? This is the shortcut.”

Sio cursed inwardly. Men who speak informally on first meeting are always trash. Did he look young and weak enough to bully? Anger flared, born of pride and resentment.

But today was not the day to argue. He needed to stay invisible. So instead of lashing back, he checked the route on his phone.

“Disgusting bastard,” he murmured without thinking, memory flashing— the client’s hand tightening, that smile, the slap across his cheek mid-service. His skin crawled.

And yet the navigation clearly showed they were drifting farther from the hotel with every second. When the broad avenue narrowed into a dim corridor, dread replaced irritation.

“S-sir, the shortcut’s fine—just take the main road. Please.”

He raised the phone—but the taxi suddenly swerved sharply between two buildings. Sio grabbed at the seat, fingers sliding helplessly across smooth leather as the vehicle jerked wildly.

“W-what are you—! Ugh!”

A violent stop flung him forward. Before he could orient himself, both doors burst open. Men climbed in—one large, one roughly his size. The one beside him smiled brightly.

“Hi.”

Sio’s heart hammered so hard it hurt. Another man entered through the passenger side.

“You’re Sio, right? Our boss would like a word.”

The man to his left covered his mouth, a snicker rasping between thick knuckles.

“He says ‘boss,’ heh.”

The disguised driver chuckled along.

“When did we ever have a boss?”

“Let’s pick one now. Who wants it?”

“You. You’re oldest.”

“Who uses age for hierarchy anymore? Too much work. You do it.”

Their conversation brushed right past Sio’s terror. Another man kicked the passenger seat lightly.

“You do it. You get all the calls.”

“Fine by me,” the man replied, lighting a cigarette. Acrid smoke choked the air instantly—thick as creeping fear.

The shock faded quickly into dreadful clarity. The very worst outcome had arrived. Sio’s fingers trembled violently, but he clung to composure.

“Please… let me get out.”

Futile words, but he could not abandon hope. Someone needed him. He had promises. Responsibilities. Even in a tiger’s den—stay alert. Don’t panic.

The man beside him slung an arm over his shoulder, casual and terrifying.

“You know you’re not getting out.”

His voice stayed light, but the weight on Sio’s shoulder chilled bone and marrow.

“Be good. It’s easier for all of us that way.”

A hand closed around the back of Sio’s head, fingers tugging through his hair. A patronizing pat, mocking and cruel.

“Behave, and it won’t hurt as much.”

Hurt? What would hurt less?

Sio blinked slowly, breath trembling. The taxi slipped seamlessly back onto a main road, as if nothing had happened at all.