Snake Venom Ch 94

Chapter 94

 

“Anyhow, once we’d uncovered this much, curiosity about the next step became unbearable. Sehan-hyung and I hacked the club’s accounting records and pored over them all night. In the process, we discovered traces of regular monetary transactions with a familiar figure.”

 

With those words, Joo Doyoung displayed a photograph. A thick neck encased in a crisp shirt collar; upturned eyes and a gaze brimming with formidable intensity. The man filling the screen embodied the pureblood’s characteristic authority and dominance to the fullest. One of the principal participants in the Tessa Group’s mating season—yet already discovered as a cold corpse, a tragic figure: Darren Kim. To Lee Yeonwoo, he was also the individual etched more vividly by the venomous scent of his glands.

 

For an instant, silence enveloped the room. The team members’ eyes gleamed quietly as they assimilated the information each in their own way. Lee Yeonwoo was no exception.

 

Though Lee Yeonwoo had detected traces of Hephaesi along with the venomous aroma from the man, the additional links he had failed to uncover now revealed themselves through the club. This, it seemed, was the moment Im Sehan had described—learning the culprit’s identity. Cheon Wooshin leaned forward, elbows on the table. The screen’s light illuminated his refined, towering profile.

 

“Was the club handling money laundering for the Tessa Group?”

 

“Yes. More precisely, Darren Kim’s personal assets.”

 

It was hardly surprising. Given the nature of nightlife revenue—where the line between legal and illegal blurred, cash inflows were fluid, and sales figures easily manipulated—a club was an ideal vehicle for laundering business funds and amassing slush accounts.

 

“They must have received Hephaesi through this channel as well.”

 

Everyone affirmed Cheon Wooshin’s conjecture.

 

“They say many chaebols are addicts, after all.”

 

Jung Suho clicked his tongue; Cheon Wooshin added,

 

“He was certainly in close contact with the producer.”

 

The club’s true owner was someone Darren Kim trusted enough to entrust with asset management. Cheon Wooshin recalled Darren Kim’s corpse—helplessly subdued without signs of intrusion. The likelihood that the same perpetrator was responsible remained high.

 

Im Sehan interjected cautiously.

 

“A recent overdose victim was also a club member. MIRAGE continues to operate prostitution with zealous organization. Disguising Sio the errand boy as a callboy would have been child’s play.”

 

His knack for supplementing evidence at precisely the right moment revealed Im Sehan’s seasoned perspective on the case.

 

To summarize their exchange: with high probability, club MIRAGE was the lair of the enemy who manufactured Viper Venom. Now it was time to locate the factory within the building and secure irrefutable proof. Should they capture the true owner using that evidence, they could unravel not only the stagnant investigation but the full circumstances of Darren Kim’s murder as well.

 

From the infiltration of the Tessa Group’s main house to the present revelation of MIRAGE’s identity—each puzzle piece seemed to affirm that Cheon Wooshin’s team was on the correct path.

 

Joo Doyoung displayed side-by-side blueprints: the previously acquired building plans alongside a new version with identical size and outline but interiors marked only with question marks. His expression grew even graver.

 

“Yet if we investigate using our usual methods, we’ll obtain only the usual amount of information.”

 

Gone was any trace of his earlier pettiness or immaturity; cold judgment focused the team.

 

Cheon Wooshin’s unit had already experienced an entrance fashioned by boring through a car floor. If interior renovation had been employed as a cover-up, conventional means would yield nothing.

 

“At worst, we might come up empty. Having struggled this far, I want certainty.”

 

Joo Doyoung stated the need for a discreet method to search for the production facility—potentially hidden within walls or beneath floors—without drawing attention. Lee Yeonwoo, listening breathlessly, blinked quietly. Only then did he understand why Jung Suho had said, “Please take good care of us.”

 

After tension fully dissipated, Joo Doyoung—who had spoken fluently—suddenly hesitated. He chewed his lips, then abruptly stared elsewhere and dropped a single remark.

 

“If it’s This Dog Nose, he might find it.”

 

This Dog Nose? What was that? As Lee Yeonwoo stared blankly, Im Sehan sidled up as though he had been waiting.

 

“That’s praise right now. We even made a nickname.”

 

Excitement laced his whispered voice.

 

The team’s gazes alternated between Lee Yeonwoo and Cheon Wooshin—seeking agreement from the latter, a plea from the former. Unable to meet eyes brimming with hope, Lee Yeonwoo lowered his head.

 

He could guess without asking why Cheon Wooshin, who had declared their end, had brought him here. To grant a farewell period, surely. Yet even Cheon Wooshin seemed unprepared for the team’s expectations to be this overt. When to reveal that Lee Yeonwoo had already been excluded from the team—timing it, Lee Yeonwoo felt thirst parch his mouth.

 

He was no fool; he knew how the team regarded him. The meaning behind the large and small kindnesses extended to him. Their subtle desire to continue together had simply been grateful. Lee Yeonwoo could easily predict their next actions. The powerful bond and sense of belonging among them stemmed ultimately from their leader, Cheon Wooshin.

 

They would obey Cheon Wooshin’s word without question. Even if parting from Lee Yeonwoo pained them, they would not rebel. Lee Yeonwoo understood this as clearly as their veiled intentions.

 

Thus, I too will simply say thank you—without any explanation or justification. Truly, thank you. Rehearsing that single sentence, Lee Yeonwoo awaited Cheon Wooshin’s announcement.

 

Yet contrary to his expectation that it would not take long, silence stretched. Lee Yeonwoo glanced at Cheon Wooshin. Motionless, brows furrowed, he was lost in thought.

 

Cheon Wooshin’s wordless silence thickened the inexplicable quiet. Even the team members, for whom his opinion carried greatest weight, held their breath; a strange tension began to flow. Sensing a final pause for breath within that tension, Lee Yeonwoo unwittingly swallowed hard. It was the visceral realization of the true end.

 

Creak—the legs of Cheon Wooshin’s chair scraped the floor. As he rose, supporting himself on the table, the team’s gazes converged naturally.

 

Cheon Wooshin clutched his face with one hand, slowly massaging his temple. Beneath the large palm, his impassive features twisted briefly. Though he did not sigh, Lee Yeonwoo read the silent anguish that brushed past and lowered his eyes.

 

Even if the team shows disappointment, I will not. With composure and calm—like how Cheon Wooshin swallowed my mistake. As he reaffirmed this resolve—

 

“Let’s take a short break.”

 

An unexpected sentence landed.

 

***

 

Im Sehan was, within the team, exceptionally attuned to others’ emotions and the atmosphere. Perhaps that was why. Throughout the meal he had kept stealing sidelong glances at Lee Yeonwoo—who had been visibly wilted, and after Cheon Wooshin left the room, wore an even more funereal expression.

 

*What’s wrong with him?*

 

He had wondered if Lee Yeonwoo was unwell, but it did not seem so. During the meal he had subtly probed with conversation, yet Lee Yeonwoo concealed his feelings instead, yielding less information than intended. Im Sehan considered pretending ignorance, but his meddlesome nature would not allow it. In the midst of several more glances, he noticed Cheon Wooshin at the end of Lee Yeonwoo’s line of sight.

 

Come to think of it, Cheon Wooshin’s sudden creation of this interlude was unlike him. During every briefing, Cheon Wooshin synthesized information and rendered decisions with precision and speed proportionate to the case’s urgency. Normally he would have approved immediately and already begun assembling a support unit; stalling like this felt peculiar.

 

Lee Yeonwoo did appear unusually cowed before Cheon Wooshin. Seeing the man who ordinarily leapt to the fore as much as Jung Suho when it concerned the team leader now floundering like a rain-drenched puppy…

 

Something had clearly transpired between them. And in the direction of Lee Yeonwoo’s fault.

 

If so—whether due to the circumstances of his rescue from dire conditions, or because Cheon Wooshin had yet to fully accept him as a teammate—Cheon Wooshin’s uncharacteristic emotional behavior might stem from declaring a lenient yet firm boundary.

 

Whatever it was, it needed swift resolution. At present, Lee Yeonwoo was the team’s precious asset and mascot-like presence. Yet the leader’s criteria for inclusion would be even stricter and more exacting than when testing Lee Yeonwoo’s abilities. For Cheon Wooshin to gain the leisure to consider this matter satisfactorily, they first had to apprehend the culprit.

 

If Lee Yeonwoo fulfilled his role in the final operation, no credential could be more definitive. For that, the rift between them must be mended without delay. The moment a plan brimming with personal bias filled his mind, Im Sehan spoke promptly.

 

“The team leader likes honesty.”

 

Jung Suho was giggling over short-form videos; Joo Doyoung lay facedown on the table, attempting to snatch a bit more sleep. The warm voice cutting through the subdued air reached Lee Yeonwoo directly. Lee Yeonwoo raised his eyes.

 

“No beating around the bush—just express it precisely. Given his background, it makes sense.”