Snake Venom Ch 112

Chapter 112

The moment Cheon Wooshin finished speaking, Seolkyung set her pen down and replied,

“Alright.”

The fact that she didn’t even ask what he meant suggested she had been mentally exhausted for some time. Yet Cheon Wooshin did not pity the time she had lost. Because of them, he too had experienced a confusion he had never known before. Now, he had seized even that confusion as his own—but most of the tasks before him had yet to even begin.

He glanced down at the soy milk Seolkyung had handed him, fingers brushing the handle. More vivid than the warmth against his palm was the lingering trace of the person who used to drink this with them. A memory of lighthearted chatter among the three of them flickered past. For an instant, Cheon Sejun’s laughter echoed so vividly it felt as though it still filled the room.

That was enough time to look back. He would move forward—for Cheon Sejun’s sake as well. He would grieve him the way they agreed. And after closing this case, he had found a reason not to abandon life as well.

“Hand over every research record related to Lee Yeonwoo.”

For that to happen, Yeonwoo had to belong to him fully, without the slightest exception. Solving the case, catching the culprit, being part of the team—those qualifications meant nothing. Yeonwoo had to be Cheon Wooshin’s person before all of that. His consent and will did not matter. To be precise, he would not even know such consent was missing as everything unfolded according to Cheon Wooshin’s will.

Cheon Wooshin leaned back into the chair again. The posture, loose and sprawled, exuded something rough and imposing. His gaze, his stance, even the voice he cast—everything was brazenly frank.

“Tell no one. Even if it would help the victims.”

A long silence followed his words. Seolkyung blinked but could not immediately respond. She needed time to think.

“Seolkyung.”

“Wait.”

She cut off his urging, covering her mouth and surrounding area with her palm.

It seemed Cheon Wooshin’s reason for protecting Yeonwoo so fiercely was not simply to keep him safe. Instinct sharpened inside her. Beneath the reasons he showed the world was something deeper, more personal. A possessiveness disguised as protection. A flash of insight struck her, sparking an old memory she had occasionally revisited.

Come back safely.

A trembling voice, honeyed as if seducing the person he spoke to. Her brow creased slightly.

“You… this is…”

Her open mouth closed again. Her eyes narrowed—not angry, but full of tangled affection.

She spoke after a long pause.

“Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

This time, Cheon Wooshin was silent. He looked at her, then lifted his chin slightly. His lips curved, slow and subtle.

“Some people don’t seem to.”

Muttering words no one else could decipher, he turned his head toward where Yeonwoo was. He took a breath in—as though even from this distance, he could smell him. He remembered the scent Yeonwoo carried—like young wood.

That morning, Yeonwoo had stammered, flustered beyond measure.

Th-that… ah… goodness, I– I’m sorry. I…

He would take his time. Eliminating Yeonwoo’s imprint on his senses with a bullet or severing ties was nowhere near enough. The shameless lie he told—“I only touched you because you asked for help”—was only the beginning. He intended to hunt down every wretched snake that had dared to touch what was his. And Yeonwoo would pay—slowly, completely. For everything taken from him, and even for what had never been freely given.

The cruelty rising naturally in him, the subtle mockery—that was irrelevant. Whatever Yeonwoo felt or chose, Cheon Wooshin was driven by only one truth: inevitability. His emotions had not taken root because Yeonwoo had done anything. Yeonwoo simply happened to enter his sight.

A sense of wrongdoing did not touch him—only impatience at what he had yet to claim. Was it the serpent coiled within him? Or was it simply in his nature, always present beneath, now merely unmasked? It did not matter. Only after possessing Yeonwoo completely would such questions be worth considering.

Seolkyung—what did she see? Judging from her reaction, she had grasped the core perfectly. Someone as sharp as she was did not see this only because of blood ties. She had always held his weakness—rooted in Cheon Sejun. Secrets bind stronger than chains. Cheon Wooshin intended for her to become Yeonwoo’s true ally.

“Hm.”

A low hum vibrated from his throat, arrogance woven into it. A brilliant smile bloomed—effortless, merciless confidence unique to those who already know the outcome. His hands cupped the warm mug as he stared at her. The pressure in his gaze made her shoulders tense just slightly.

“Seolkyung—promise me.”

His lips still smiled. His tone remained calm, almost gentle. But she understood perfectly. This was not a request—it was a threat. A declaration of possessive intent, the first spoken warning from a warped affection.

“D-don’t just drink it and go silent, you lunatic.”

Instead of answering, she cursed. Once he made up his mind, no one could stop him. And once decided, her opinion no longer existed in that equation. But she was not worried. His stubbornness always came paired with reason, logic, and responsibility.

So he had not merely stepped into the world of hybrids—he had floored the accelerator, their young master.

Had Cheon Wooshin ever introduced a lover to her? No. Not once. She glanced at him; he met her gaze without flinching.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Threatening her to look after Yeonwoo personally—there was no way around it. She dropped her gaze to her notes and answered lightly,

“Nope.”

After all she had covered up for Cheon Sejun’s death, this level of collusion didn’t even count.

Cheon Wooshin descended to the parking garage and opened the driver’s door. Yeonwoo followed and sat in the passenger seat. As Cheon Wooshin buckled his belt, Yeonwoo did the same.

The low hum of the engine filled the air. It was nothing—but Yeonwoo’s fingers slipped against the buckle. The metal clicked awkwardly, and he clenched his fist.

His palms were damp. His chest ached—not from pain, but from tension so tight it felt like a bruise waiting to burst.

But he had to speak. His rut would begin in two days, barring any unforeseen change.

He chewed his lower lip, glancing at the gentle press of Wooshin’s foot on the accelerator. Despite his resolve, he could not speak. Silence filled the car—until Cheon Wooshin spoke first, voice soft and considerate:

“Are you taking your booster suppressants?”

The casually asked question struck exactly where Yeonwoo had been hesitating. Of course he remembered. Relief loosened Yeonwoo’s shoulders; he let out a tiny breath.

“Yes, I asked Seolkyung before we left and took it.”

Turning the wheel smoothly, Cheon Wooshin replied,

“Good. While you’re in your rut, I’ll stay with Seolkyung. It’s time for a full check anyway. You’ll stay in your designated space. I’ll brief you on everything afterward.”

“…Yes.”

He hadn’t even mentioned the word “rut,” yet Cheon Wooshin was already preparing for it. Things Yeonwoo had been agonizing over—Cheon Wooshin had already handled them. How was someone supposed to deal with that? He was unfairly perfect. Yeonwoo rubbed his burning cheeks.

“As you know, no outside visitors.”

“Yes, of course.”

Unable to hide his fluster, Yeonwoo ducked his head. His ears, flushed crimson, betrayed him. Watching silently, Cheon Wooshin turned his gaze away—slow and deliberate.

“If you need help—”

“No! No, I don’t!”

Yeonwoo slapped his hands over his face so fast it was almost audible. Heat suffused beneath his palms.

“I… can’t impose any further.”

Impose. Cheon Wooshin rolled the word on his tongue, lips curving slightly.

“What kind of ‘imposing’ did you have in mind?”

“…”

Yeonwoo’s shoulders twitched.

“Are you—joking right now…”

“I’m not.”

His calm reply silenced Yeonwoo. Time passed—Cheon Wooshin savoring Yeonwoo’s fluster—until he finally looked ahead again, a faint smile curling like a child who had finished teasing someone.

“Let’s grab food and head to the office. Anything you want?”

“…”

Yeonwoo forced his voice out, trembling despite him.

“I’m… not picky… I like rolled omelets.”

Cheon Wooshin changed lanes and accelerated. The car headed toward the lunchbox shop where Im Sehan used to feed the team.