Snake Venom Ch 114

Chapter 114

The place presumed to be Shin Junseong’s birthplace existed only on maps—in reality, it was closer to an abandoned wasteland. The state’s reach had retreated long ago; neither law nor public order stretched that far. A region where births and deaths were sloppily documented. A place like the belly of a beast, capable of swallowing every recorded fact whole and spitting it back out as ambiguity.

Using the unique nature of such a place, Joo Doyoung uncovered an organization that laundered identities for those wishing to erase their past. Not only that—he identified several groups that had some connection with Shin Junseong. But since the data had been scraped through hacking, on-site verification was essential.

“Good.”

If they could identify the brokers or organizations tied to Shin Junseong, they could get far closer to revealing his true nature.

“I’ll assemble and dispatch the investigation team. Coordinate internally once the roster is set.”

At Cheon Wooshin’s words, Im Sehan lit up. If Wooshin was personally selecting members, they would be competent and tight-lipped. They would likely produce results beyond expectations without the need for micromanagement—saving precious time.

Next, Wooshin assigned Im Sehan and Jung Suho to conduct preliminary checks on the club. Their goal was to compare architectural plans with the actual layout and physically scout as much as human perception allowed. The pair, already anticipating their roles before being instructed, nodded without question. They were the most experienced combination on the team and had completed similar missions multiple times before.

Doyoung spoke next, handling the technical details.

“We won’t touch the surveillance feed until the last moment. Once you give the signal, I’ll overwrite it with looped footage. If we use mostly static frames, we can maintain disguise for as long as possible without interference. Still, we should wrap things up quickly.”

Wooshin set a precise requirement.

“A communication device—inear type—capable of sending and receiving without hacking or signal interference. Is it possible?”

As if waiting for the cue, Sehan raised his hand and suggested a model. It had the requested functions—and if seized, it would wipe itself. The device automatically destroyed all internal data if it detected no biometric activity for a set period.

Once Wooshin approved, Jung Suho outlined the support team’s route, personnel placement, and main tasks. Once the vanguard—Wooshin and Yeonwoo—verified the production facility, the support team would immediately enter to block escape routes and preserve the crime scene intact.

Their discussion was more than mere information exchange. It was a coordinated operation—each role woven together, each detail refined.

Piece by piece, the plan took its final shape. All the while, Yeonwoo absorbed every word, determined not to miss a single detail. He focused fiercely, even on throwaway phrases, refusing to let his attention break.

He knew better than anyone how vital his role was. In a sense, they had placed a gamble on him.

Their shared determination was clear in every glance, every line exchanged. Above all, this was a mission on which Cheon Wooshin’s life depended. The reason Yeonwoo had set aside even his apology to Wooshin and insisted on taking this task was unchanged: he would ensure its success. Even if he could not find the production site, he would use every ability he had to gather information.

As the voices slowly died down, eyes turned toward him. Yeonwoo quietly raised his hand.

“This is Igaeko speaking. Permission to speak?”

Suho grumbled, “Igaeko? Seriously? What kind of naming sense is that?”

Doyoung hissed, “Shut up, you muscle-brained bear.”

Sehan snapped, “Both of you be quiet.”

Wooshin nodded lightly.

Yeonwoo’s proposition was simple—almost embarrassingly so compared to their meticulous plan. He explained how he sensed scents, and the inherent limits involved.

“When there’s a crowd, scents get mixed. Trying to differentiate them one by one would be exhausting, and concentration would slip. So I plan to focus primarily on the Hephaesi scent, track where it’s strongest, and push my ability to find the entrance.”

It wasn’t special, but explaining it felt like the least he owed them.

“So speed will be key, but…”

His voice trailed as he looked at Wooshin. Fear flickered through him.

He would have to move faster than anyone, tracing scent trails within a strict time frame. Would Wooshin be able to keep up? With his lack of field experience, Yeonwoo feared he might fail to account for Wooshin’s movements. If Wooshin got hurt protecting him—if the mission failed before it even began—his earnestness twisted into dread.

Then Wooshin’s quiet voice reached him.

“Just do what you’re capable of, Mr. Lee.”

Gentle, yet firm enough to sweep aside the anxieties clutching him.

“But still, we should have a signal just for us.”

“……”

“Oh. We already do. Let’s use that.”

Resting his chin on his hand, Wooshin lifted his index finger and brushed below his nose. A casual gesture—private, quiet. Yeonwoo dropped his gaze immediately, unable to watch. His eyes darted; heat flushed through him. To turn a desperate, improvised signal into a shared promise—his heart thundered. Blood rushed fast enough to make him dizzy.

This was serious. Truly dangerous. How could one man send his entire body into shock with a single word? Did everyone in love go through this? If this kept happening, surely his lifespan would shorten. His crown tingled—like his ears might sprout.

He yanked his hood up and burst out,

“I’ll do my best!”

A beat of silence swept around the table.

Sehan was first to react, blinking before letting out a startled laugh. Suho pressed a hand to his chest, sighing, “Good grief.” Doyoung stared like he’d spotted a bizarre creature—but not unkindly. Then, as if recalling something, he grabbed the remote from Sehan.

“There’s one thing I forgot to explain. Here—”

While Doyoung dove into technical exposition, Yeonwoo rubbed the back of his neck, mortified. Then Wooshin’s scent drifted to him—stronger now.

Yeonwoo waited, patient and still, until Wooshin looked at him. He didn’t want to interrupt. When their eyes met, Yeonwoo signaled silently: Maybe you should take your suppressant, just in case.

Wooshin dipped his head in subtle agreement. Small, but clear.

“Let’s re-check the floor plan.”

Even after their exchanged signal, Wooshin did not pause his conversation with Doyoung. Then, walking toward the screen, he glanced at Yeonwoo again. Brief, but meaningful. Yeonwoo read the message easily: If anything spikes, signal immediately. We’ll administer the shot after the meeting. Monitor yourself until then.

Don’t worry, Team Leader! I’ll check myself every second if I have to.

Yeonwoo nodded firmly. Wooshin tapped the screen.

“Second floor, four o’clock. Zoom in.”

Light and shadow crossed the screen. The team leaned in again, trading rapid-fire analysis.

Yeonwoo took the chance to look at him openly—this time with a little pride. He had been told to watch him, after all.

That focused face—cool, effortless, dazzling. Each time he saw him like this, something in Yeonwoo’s chest twisted sweetly. He glanced down at the place where that ache pulsed. What a strange feeling—warm and overwhelming. Joyful, yet tinged with loneliness.

He smiled faintly, almost foolishly, before fixing his gaze on Wooshin again. Every day he could look at him like this—every minute, every second—was precious. He refused to blink, eyes burning slightly. The pain in his chest mirrored the sting—but it only made him smile wider.

He loved him. Truly.