Snake Venom Ch 117

Chapter 117

He did not understand the meaning of Wooshin’s words, yet he could not linger on them—every nerve was claimed by the hand resting atop his head. The fact that Wooshin was looking at him, that their bodies were touching—having Cheon Wooshin granted to him like this was overwhelming to the point of fear, sending a tingling shock down to his lower belly. The heat cycle had undeniably passed, and yet his groin warmed as though it would start again at any moment.

If he grew hard here, that would be the end. No hole in the world would be deep enough to crawl into—the shame alone would choke him to death. With a jolt, Yeonwoo snapped to his senses and reached toward the window. Freed from Wooshin’s touch by that sudden movement, he hurriedly pressed the button.

“Uh—t-the window. I’ll just—let in some air.”

Ever since accepting his feelings, he did not act like himself whenever he stood before Wooshin. Never in his life had he experienced a situation where, against his own will, his body throbbed from below like this.

Thinking back, there had never been a moment of ease since the day he began walking alongside Cheon Wooshin. Whether the gentle Wooshin or the ruthless Wooshin, both could unsettle him effortlessly, taking something from him every time. And instead of feeling wronged, Yeonwoo found himself wanting to offer it willingly. That, too, was a first.

Which was exactly why he had to keep his wits about him. No matter that his heart grew heavier day by day, that nothing seemed to go his way because of it—he needed to hold it in alone. Hide it, restrain it, and when the time came, deny it and cast it aside if necessary.

Wooshin was a purebred upper-class human. Yeonwoo was a mosaic-species half-human. It took climbing through several layers of hierarchy just to stand close enough to touch this person. Their meeting only existed because Yeonwoo’s ability had aligned perfectly with a need in Wooshin’s mission. For now, he enjoyed the kindness born from Wooshin’s sense of responsibility, but it was a bond that could sever at any moment without surprise. Therefore—he must be grateful for this moment.

Yeonwoo repeated the same lines in his head, over and over, until they lost all shape:

His duty was clear.

Focus solely on the mission.

Only the mission.

He was the team leader’s faithful hound.

Wooshin’s phone rang. Seeing Im Sehan’s name, he answered.

“Yes. Go ahead.”

A cold breeze brushed Yeonwoo’s cheek as he held a hand over his heart.

It was early evening, the day before the operation.

After a light meal with the team, Yeonwoo zipped his training jacket to his chin. Remembering Jung Suho’s instructions to stretch, he sat and extended one leg. As his inner thigh and knee loosened, warmth flowed.

Even as he rolled his neck and loosened his shoulders, stray thoughts intruded without end. Most were self-doubt—Can I really do this?—but the more they swelled, the more he forced focus into his movements.

The door opened.

Jung Suho entered, exchanging a brief nod. Dressed in light training clothes, he rolled his shoulders and pushed up his sleeves. Muscles, hardened through real combat, flexed along his arms—an imposing sight that words could not fully convey.

“Alright, let’s begin again.”

Instead of replying, Yeonwoo inhaled deeply. At the word begin, Suho’s presence shifted, sharp and suffocating.

The training room was spacious, with no obstacles, yet the moment Suho merely signaled seriousness, Yeonwoo felt trapped in a sealed room. His palms dampened instantly—memories of Sodom flashing. Being hunted, unable to escape—panic and desperation flared anew.

Suho’s gaze softened when he saw Yeonwoo swallow hard.

“Ah—too intense? Team Leader told me to, so I overdid it.”

He reset his expression, rolling his shoulders casually.

“But we’ll still go hard. Team Leader was very clear.”

The club was a battlefield disguised as nightlife. Drunk and drugged crowds disrupting movement, armed guards manning every entrance.

Anything could happen. A bottle could fly before a bullet. They might stumble into overdosed addicts before finding the production site. Or fall into an unrelated crime scene entirely.

To survive and function there, instinct sharpened like a blade was essential. Recognizing enemies, spotting viable paths, avoiding unnecessary friction—his body had to act first. Fortunately, Yeonwoo had instinct like a creature born for survival.

Tonight, Suho planned to bind his intuition to technique. A simulation of real combat—knowledge that, if absorbed, would allow him to respond to the unforeseeable with sharp improvisation.

“Now we really start.”

With that quiet declaration, Suho pressed him relentlessly. With weapons prohibited in the target location, the drills focused on bare-handed takedowns—strikes to vital points that could silence an opponent in one blow. As the intensity rose, bruises bloomed quickly across Yeonwoo’s body.

“Nape, under the jaw, clavicle. Plenty of vital points. Hit right, and it’s one strike.”

Suho’s knife-edge hand struck the back of Yeonwoo’s neck.

“Urk—”

“Oops, sorry. But keep your eyes open.”

Before Yeonwoo could finish resetting stance, Suho closed in from behind—one arm pinning his upper body, the other gripping under his jaw. Pressure crushed his airway—Suho spoke calmly.

“This can knock someone out cold. Since you’re light, you could kick off a wall and climb over them—try it?”

The tone was gentle, but the force unyielding—Yeonwoo froze. He attempted movement anyway, but Suho gave him no opening. A large hand gripped his cheek sharply.

“A bit more pressure here and the neck snaps. Right here.”

He repeated the motion twice—calm and precise.

Suho smiled occasionally, but the training spared nothing. When released, Yeonwoo clutched his throat, gasping. For a moment, death had felt inches away.

“You know the rest—solar plexus, abdomen, groin. All collapse points.”

Suho pointed to each place on his body. Yeonwoo listened intently, mapping each location onto himself, nodding as though engraving it into muscle memory.

In Sodom, he could only run. There were few ways to survive beasts blinded by hunger and lust. Blindness had kept him alive there—but outside, everyone could see. And some carried guns.

They were walking willingly into a tiger’s den. There would be moments he could not avoid. Even Wooshin might not be enough someday. So—he had to learn everything he could now.

That thought sharpened his concentration. Anything he learned, he captured like a photograph—repeating until his body absorbed it. He met every strike, sought every counter.

Sweat rolled from the tips of his hair. Before long, he was drenched. Sweeping his bangs back, he panted, swallowing painfully against a parched throat—yet his eyes burned with fierce clarity.

Suho, equally drenched, wiped his brow. Pride tugged at his smile.

“Feels good to teach you. Once you’re official team, I’ll teach you more.”

Yeonwoo froze for half a heartbeat—then, as if nothing had happened, composed himself and smiled brightly.

After completing field duties, Im Sehan returned to the office in high spirits. No matter how critical tomorrow’s mission was, that was tomorrow—worrying all night wouldn’t change its outcome.

Good condition decided results. For that, rest was paramount. So, the moment he entered, he gathered his few belongings, whistling under his breath.

“Well then… time to go—”

He hadn’t noticed at first, but someone lay sprawled on the sofa. Closer inspection revealed Yeonwoo.

Exhaustion etched deep across his features, he showed no sign of waking. After days of intense training with Suho, he had finally collapsed.

Hearing movement, Sehan turned. Suho approached, towel-drying his hair after a shower.

“Didn’t you go too hard on him?”

With the mission tomorrow, pushing him this far seemed reckless. Suho lifted his chin proudly.

“He was training with this body. Of course he’s wiped out.”

“You idiot… that’s not what I meant. What if he gets sick right before the mission?”

Suho shook his head firmly.

“No. His base fitness is as good as ours. He knows his body. See? He was tired, so he just lay down. After a good sleep, he’ll be good as new.”

Sehan recalled the first day he met Yeonwoo—when he devoured three cup noodles and fell asleep on the spot.

“He’s good?”

“Oh yeah. If he’d trained since childhood, he’d be top-tier already.”

Side by side, the two men chatted lightly while watching Yeonwoo sleep soundly. Their voices died as a low tone rolled through the air.

“Everyone go home.”