Snake Venom Ch 118

Chapter 118

Cheon Wooshin dropped into the chair beside the sofa. He had just finished wrapping up his own work. Tugging his tie loose and undoing the top button of his shirt, he slouched back, body finally relaxing. It had been days since the team had seen him like this.

“Should we wake him?”

“Leave him.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Let him sleep for a bit.”

Wooshin paused there, glancing briefly at Lee Yeonwoo.

“Then I’ll carry him.”

For a moment, the same question crossed both Im Sehan and Jung Suho’s minds—why go to such lengths for a grown man? Before the brief silence could settle too long, Suho broke it. He was not one to harbor needless judgments. With abrupt enthusiasm, he lifted a thumb.

“Princess-carry, if you don’t mind.”

“Maybe I should.”

Wooshin stroked his chin, genuinely considering it. Sehan rolled his eyes at the absurd exchange—just in time for Joo Do-young, appearing from who-knows-where, to place something on the small table in front of the sofa.

“Give him this when he wakes.”

Banana milk. Wooshin stared at it for a beat before lifting his gaze. After sweeping his eyes across each team member, he clicked his tongue.

“Unbelievable, the lot of you.”

Sehan and Suho bared their teeth in wide grins, while Do-young feigned aloofness. Sehan straightened halfway and lifted a hand to his forehead in mock salute.

“Then, see you tomorrow.”

“You’re getting fined if you’re late.”

“You first, bear-for-brains.”

“Have sweet dreams, Team Leader.”

The rambunctious trio filed out, and the door shut behind them. Their noise faded down the hall, replaced by settling quiet. Wooshin rose, switched off the ceiling lights, and the office fell into a hush—like even the air held its breath.

Scattered documents, a monitor left askew, forgotten tumblers—everything sat beneath a single dim light, their silhouettes just barely visible.

Wooshin gazed at the sleeping Yeonwoo. Far longer than he had intended.

12.

Yeonwoo looked up at the sky. The darkness above was thick and blurred. Clouds lay like a heavy blanket, concealing even the stars—a beginning to a clouded night.

He drew in a deep breath. Moist air filled his lungs, cold and damp. Holding tightly onto the tension gripping him inside and out, he fixed his gaze forward.

A line had already formed outside the club—appropriate for a fourth-anniversary event. Attire varied wildly among the waiting crowd, but excitement was the shared uniform.

Two guards in black suits stood beside the entrance. Along the queue, four security staff were spaced evenly, all wearing wireless earpieces, all large-framed, strikingly impassive as their eyes swept across unfamiliar faces.

According to prior intel gathered by Suho and Sehan, there was also a metal detector at the entrance, and the guards carried scanners. Their intention to block weapons was unmistakable.

Invitations were verified through QR code and ID checks. One person confirmed identity, another inspected belongings—wallets, phones, perfume bottles, lipsticks—glinting inside transparent bags.

When Yeonwoo handed over his ID, the guards exchanged a brief look before turning back to their tablet. No questions. Once verified, he was waved through to pass the metal detector.

—It wasn’t this strict when we came before.

Suho’s voice buzzed in his earpiece, followed immediately by Do-young’s reply.

—It’s always like this on big nights. But look closer—lots of people are getting waved through. It’s mostly for show. Official entrance folks are basically… flies?

—Calling people flies? Watch your mouth.

—Please. Look forward, you dumb bear.

—Team Leader, they’re fighting again.

The casual banter hardly resembled pre-mission communication. How many missions must one survive to speak so lightly at a time like this? Yeonwoo let out a quiet laugh. It’s my last mission anyway—what meaning do these thoughts even have? Yet the exchange eased his stiff shoulders. He stole a sideways glance at Wooshin.

Even amid the joking chatter, Wooshin’s eyes never left the club entrance. But the moment Yeonwoo’s gaze touched him, the eyes fixed so firmly ahead dropped, shifting diagonally down.

Both wore dark, understated clothing suited for blending in. Wooshin in black suit; Yeonwoo in muted shirt and slacks—polished without being flashy. Yet the clean, tailored fit caught the eye regardless.

“……”

“Nervous?”

Wooshin didn’t just catch Yeonwoo’s look—he read the emotion in it. Steadying his breath, Yeonwoo met his gaze head-on.

“No.”

Because Wooshin was there, fear did not exist.

Their strategy wasn’t to enter through the public line—it was the members-only entrance. They drove along the designated route, the gate rising automatically after recognizing the car’s plate.

The vehicle glided into the underground lot. A valet, already informed of their arrival, signaled politely toward a parking spot.

Once the engine cut, the reality of the mission sank into bone. Wooshin stepped out first, then waited as Yeonwoo followed. Guards in black jackets dotted the area here and there—but as Do-young had said, not many.

Procedures were perfunctory. Only the invitation verification took effort; the scanning was little more than a gesture. That, too, was part of the club’s operation—pretending to regulate while quietly permitting, the way power catered to its own.

Clearing entry without issue, Wooshin stopped at the elevator. He tapped his card to the panel, doors opened, he pressed the upper-level button, and stepped back half a pace.

Their first checkpoint: the upper level of private rooms. A call Yeonwoo had strongly advocated.

Studying the floor plans alone in the office, Yeonwoo had contemplated long, then gathered the team. With Sehan’s help projecting the plans on screen, he pointed to the upper floor. His basis came from Soddom—from experience.

“Here—the rooms are aligned symmetrically across the wall. Even with strong ventilation, the scent at the door edges won’t vanish. I can detect scent strength quickly just by walking the hall. Starting here cuts searching time.”

His reasoning passed unanimously.

Yeonwoo drew in a deep breath, fingers curling into a fist. This was it. The ability he honed for solitary survival—now to be used for someone else.

The elevator began to move smoothly upward. Yeonwoo stared at Wooshin’s profile—so composed, almost unrecognizable in restraint. That face anchored him.

As if sensing it, Wooshin spoke quietly without lifting his gaze.

“Once this is over, I’ll treat you to whatever you want to eat.”

Voices exploded in the earpiece at once.

—Me too! Buy for me too!

—I humbly request beef, sir!

Yeonwoo laughed just as the elevator chimed.

The doors opened.

Stepping out after Wooshin, they immediately saw a man in black suit—Jung Suho. Disguised as security, he stared forward like a statue.

Without exchanging a word, Wooshin moved in sync to stand beside him—both facing forward, motionless.

Recognizing the signal, Yeonwoo strode forward down the corridor.

At the same time, Seolkyung was heading home. Stepping out of the building, a cold breeze brushed her cheek.

It had been a draining day. Drowning in repeated error reports since morning, tracking causes, then unexpectedly being handed lab samples from another department—she hadn’t even had time to stand. After barely staving off hunger and finishing backlog analysis, night had already fallen.

“Hah.”

Sinking into the driver’s seat, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Fatigue hollowed her thoughts; memories of tomorrow’s deadlines, overdue cleaning, an empty fridge drifted vaguely. Then softly:

“If I could just see your face once, I think I’d be fine.”

The fact she said it aloud meant her heart was worn thin again. No matter how many times she lived through this, the instant she felt his absence, she never quite adjusted. Snapping upright, she started the engine—her nose faintly red.

She eventually stopped at a red light. Her eyes fell on her bag in the passenger seat—inside, Yeonwoo’s experimental report and backup drive. Data proving, far more convincingly now, the significant link between Wooshin and Yeonwoo. She would review it at home, though she felt oddly excited to do so.

She checked her phone. She remembered sending Wooshin a message the moment she confirmed her results, too eager to hold back. But the message still showed “unread.”

It was understandable—he was on mission. First, a hot shower. She imagined warmth soothing her muscles as she pressed the accelerator.

But her modest plans began to fracture the moment she stepped into the living room.