Snake Venom Ch 124

Chapter 124

Yeonwoo stepped back a few paces as well, surveying the scene. The surroundings remained chaotic—crowded, noisy, unsteady—but an undercurrent of order had begun to settle. The in-ear comms relayed real-time updates from the suppression teams, steadying the atmosphere.

A total of six individuals had been apprehended at the production site—all detained. All were mixed-breed, and among them was a minor. Yeonwoo suspected that child was the timid voice he had overheard earlier.

The discovery of an active narcotics production site alone justified an immediate shutdown of the club. Add to that Darren Kim’s illegal money-laundering trail, plus the secured evidence on prostitution and drug distribution, and the operation was essentially crushed. Identifying the club’s true beneficial owner was now only a matter of time.

“……”

Suddenly, Shin Junseong’s face flashed in his mind. They had barely spent an hour together, trading nothing more than cheap jokes—yet a strange discomfort had clung to him like barbs. But Shin Junseong had approached Cheon Wooshin under a falsified identity, and faint though it had been, he had carried a trace of Snake Venom scent. There was no world in which he could be dismissed as unrelated. Yeonwoo rubbed his arm, chasing away the cold crawling over his skin.

Once the producers were interrogated, they would surely uncover leads on Shin Junseong as well. And if they also uncovered the killer of Darren Kim—and that person’s motive—the pieces that still grated against each other might finally lock into place.

Only then did fatigue register. He massaged his throbbing temples and lifted his gaze. Amid the synthetic, muddled scents, a familiar one drifted in. Without thinking, he turned toward it.

There stood Cheon Wooshin.

Even amidst crowds large and small, his straight back, broad shoulders, and clean-cut profile stood out like ink on white paper. If fate had not placed them together, Yeonwoo might never have been allowed even a momentary glance at him—someone whose quiet, austere gravity could stir a strange longing.

That faint scent brushing Yeonwoo’s senses represented safety—his safety. Feeling his stare, Wooshin glanced back. Their eyes locked, exchanging meaning without words.

I’m okay.

Recognizing the message, Wooshin returned to his duties. Yet the look he left behind carried warmth and praise. Understanding that, pride swelled within Yeonwoo. He too had contributed. He had seen the mission through. The sense of accomplishment filled him—relief and a subtle glow of triumph.

Thank you… for letting me experience this.

He committed Wooshin’s figure—elegant, steady, commanding—to his heart.

Seolkyung had said she’d found a meaningful pattern in Wooshin’s inhibitor-dosage cycle. Meaning that soon, even without Yeonwoo’s heightened scent sensitivity, Wooshin could regulate his symptoms with timed injections. She had added that Wooshin had not switched personas once since regaining consciousness—proof the treatment was working.

When he was no longer needed, Yeonwoo could leave. And when a formal cure was developed, Wooshin would be fully restored. At last, Yeonwoo felt like he could return home with no lingering regrets.

He looked up at the club’s façade, breaths light with release—

“Hm?”

His shoulders jerked. His eyes sharpened, pupils narrowing. A chill raced down his spine like current. Instinct seized him; he inhaled deeply.

A familiar scent stabbed straight into his lungs.

Venom.

As though someone had poured raw toxin directly down his throat, the scent hit mercilessly. Overwhelming. Piercing. His first mission by Wooshin’s side—his sole justification for remaining near him—had long since transformed into devotion, then obsessional resolve. That same core was struck dead center now, violently.

His vision darted. He had to find it.

Where? Where—?

The scent was close. So close he swore he could seize it if he moved fast enough. Yeonwoo plunged into the crowd without hesitation.

The club entrance was still a riot of bodies. Cars streamed past with headlights cutting the dark. Civilians and armed units tangled across the walkways. Noise, movement, scent—chaos blurred his senses.

Then—he felt it. Heavy and unmistakable. Calling him.

Yeonwoo shoved through the crowd.

He collided with strangers. Curses snapped at him, but he didn’t hear them. His world had condensed to a single point: the scent. Do not lose it. It was critical—vital intel for the team. At the very least, he needed to identify who it belonged to.

Just a little more. Almost—

And suddenly time dropped away. His senses collapsed into a singular pinpoint. The venom scent speared him again—devastating in clarity.

Every nerve bristled. His neck iced over.

In the middle of his vision stood a man—hat low, mask high, face shadowed.

That man.

The certainty struck like lightning. Ecstasy flickered at the corner of his lips—

A hand seized him from behind.

Huge. Strong. Ten fingers splayed wide across his nape, clamping down, sealing his chest and mouth in one brutal motion. Force refined to precision—almost inhuman. Air choked. His breath burst out, broken.

“Mmph—!”

He twisted desperately—but the hold did not budge. Sting—then cold liquid slid down his throat. A foreign burn seeped beneath his skin. Horror curled icy fingers around his spine.

His vision tilted. Sickening realization hit too late.

He had been baited.

He had chased a lure.

And now he could do nothing.

A languid voice breathed at his ear.

“Hello, Rat-puppy.”

He knew that voice.

“Nice to see you again.”

A warped, unpleasant scent clung to the man—neither human nor hybrid, neither prey nor predator, something wrong. Yeonwoo’s eyes rolled sideways in terror. The masked man grinned—malicious, pleased.

“Yeah. I missed you too.”

Shin Junseong.

Recognition crashed through him—and he whipped his gaze forward.

Wooshin.

Wooshin was the first thought.

Wooshin was the only thought.

Struggling wildly, Yeonwoo’s pupils locked onto the familiar silhouette cutting through the crowd. At the same moment Wooshin saw him.

A gunshot detonated.

Screams erupted—shrill, piercing.

Yeonwoo clawed at the hand holding him. Please. Please. Please— He didn’t know what he begged for. Only that he had to reach him. And then—

He saw Wooshin stagger, grabbing his arm, body faltering.

Wooshin had been hit.

Team leader!

His throat refused to scream. Only ragged wheezes escaped. A deadening weakness flowed through him, seizing his chest and limbs, draining him hollow. He forced his hand upward—but it trembled uselessly in the air.

Shin Junseong lowered his head to Yeonwoo’s neck, inhaling deeply at the gland behind his ear like savoring prey.

“Alpha? Hardly.”

Gunmen spilled out, swarming Wooshin. Backup rushed in too late—chaos blinded everyone. Shin Junseong dragged Yeonwoo backwards with disturbing ease, meeting Wooshin’s murderous glare with idle amusement.

“Well—you can just start over, right?”

Start what? Begin what? The meaning dissolved; consciousness frayed. Shin Junseong hauled him away. Gunfire cracked—sharp, concussive. Screams flooded the street.

Even Wooshin could not withstand the onslaught aimed solely at him. Yet he did not stop. Rather than defend himself, he chased—only chased Yeonwoo. Every step was toward him. Every breath was for him.

“Hah…hah… let go… let me—”

But Yeonwoo’s hand barely twitched. His eyes trembled with unshed tears.

No.

A deafening blast tore through air. Concrete exploded. Light, dust, screams—everything vanished into a storm of white.

Wooshin… still pushing forward… through rubble… through fire… toward him. A desperate silhouette that refused to fall.

T-Team leader, no—

A single trembling finger lifted, reaching blindly. Tears blurred his vision; Wooshin flickered like a burning star—furious, unstoppable, breaking and rising again and again just to come to him.

Then the world went dark.

Black swallowed everything.

And Yeonwoo fell.