Snake Venom Ch 120

Chapter 120

Lee Yeonwoo forced his way through the crowd as though cutting against the current. Arms and shoulders shoved him, fingers snagged his clothing, yet he paid none of it any mind. He followed nothing but the scent he had so painstakingly found.

Breaking free of the mass, he scanned his surroundings quickly. Bottles were crammed haphazardly along a display shelf; a bartender filled glasses at rapid speed. On the opposite side stood what seemed to be the entrance to a hallway leading to the restrooms. Several structures and doorways appeared out of place, not meant for general patrons—yet the trail of scent had thinned too much.

Stopping for a heartbeat, he sharpened his senses. A guard far off met his eyes. Shock pierced him—cold sweat prickled at the nape of his neck like someone caught in the act.

Had he been discovered? Panic flared—yet he turned away with feigned nonchalance. Even if he had been exposed, it wasn’t over until they dragged him out.

Through the dizzying haze of lights and sound, he glimpsed Cheon Wooshin. The tight coil of tension vibrating inside him eased all at once. Gathering his courage, he glanced again toward the guard. But the guard’s attention had already shifted elsewhere.

Relief washed through him—then the scent spiked again.

Before thought could form, his body moved. Rounding a corner, he noticed a staircase. His instinct urged him to leap two or three steps at a time, but he restrained himself, keeping pace natural to avoid suspicion, climbing steadily.

Half a flight up, he reached a point where he could overlook the stage. A VIP lounge. A guard stationed at the entrance stepped in his way, demanding verification. Yeonwoo’s heart thrashed painfully—but he betrayed nothing, handing over his membership card with casual ease, even gesturing as if urging the guard to hurry. The cursory check passed, and the guard stepped aside.

Despite only ascending half a level, the lounge felt starkly different—ordered, almost quiet compared to the chaos below. High tables mixed with low ones; people moved languidly. Yet their behaviors were far more explicit, decadent. Their uninhibited acts were no different from the delirious faces downstairs.

A couple tangled in a fervent kiss stumbled upright and lurched toward Yeonwoo. Their staggering steps looked ready to collapse. They crashed into the wall and pressed together, oblivious to anything but each other. Pretending to step aside to give them space, Yeonwoo slipped behind their bodies as cover and scanned the entire area.

This space formed a ㄷ-shaped layout with no visible passage leading elsewhere. Had he misjudged? A tight pang of disappointment formed—just as a section of the right wall opened. Several waiters emerged, trays laden with drinks and snacks.

They dispersed in practiced formation, weaving with ease through the slack-bodied guests. As Yeonwoo’s attention followed their movements, his gaze latched onto the last waiter emerging—not holding a tray.

That waiter brushed past him. Yeonwoo’s shoulder twitched uncontrollably. The scent—sharper now, clear enough to identify direction—hit him like a struck nerve. He glanced down.

The waiter’s shoes.

More precisely—the soles of them. The fragrance he had hunted so desperately radiated from there.

Without hesitation, Yeonwoo followed.

The waiter passed tables fluidly, descending a staircase on the opposite side and disappearing briefly into the tide of bodies behind the stage. If he lost him here, he might never find him again. The waiter quickened pace, slipping behind a corner.

Yeonwoo followed—and collided hard into a broad chest. A harsh shove slammed into him, a blunt shock reverberating through his ribs. Gritting through the sting, he lifted his gaze.

A man with a square jaw and harsh features stared coldly down at him.

“This area is restricted.”

Even through the pounding music, the voice cut sharply—warning by tone alone. But the icy glare, burning with hostility, gave Yeonwoo hope.

Pretending not to hear, he angled his gaze past the guard’s shoulder. The waiter he chased slipped through another door.

“Sir.”

The low voice carried threat like steel. Yeonwoo ignored it, sharpening his senses. If they barred him, then he would not fall back so easily. The rule of remaining unnoticed no longer applied—this was an exception. He drew a deep breath.

Yes. The scent—Hephaesi—leaked from beyond that door.

The guard’s patience snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Hey.”

The guard thumped Yeonwoo’s chest rudely, stepping closer. Towering close to Wooshin’s height, he glared down with aggressive dominance.

“I said step back.”

Important doors had vicious gatekeepers. This man felt different—of a different caliber entirely. Reinforced security. Proof this place mattered.

Yeonwoo glanced—no one was around. Because of that isolation, the guard felt emboldened. Yeonwoo let looseness enter his limbs, smiling drunkenly.

“Do you know who I am?”

If the guard assumed him just another intoxicated patron, all the better. Someone who wandered up from the floor—a nuisance to swat. He wanted the guard to see him that way.

It worked. The man smirked, expression twisting with amusement, as though Yeonwoo’s misfortune provided entertainment.

He stepped closer, gaze crawling over Yeonwoo, heavy and unpleasant. Yeonwoo did not avert his eyes—he held them, baiting for time.

The guard tilted his head, lips curling cruelly.

“Know what they tell us to do with drunks like you? Last warning. This is a restricted f—”

Before the curse completed, something slammed into the guard’s back—hard. He didn’t even look before a hand seized his neck and hurled him. A bone-rattling thud echoed as his body crashed into the wall, lifted clean off the floor.

He gasped, limbs spasming. He wasn’t weak—it was just that Cheon Wooshin was inhumanly fast and strong.

As the guard struggled, trying to retaliate, Wooshin shifted smoothly. His eyes flashed, catching the man’s opening. In a fluid motion, he twisted the man’s arm and drove him down. The guard crashed face-first, pinned beneath Wooshin’s weight.

A sharp choke escaped—the sound strangled.

“Sh—shit…”

Despite his size, the guard’s kicks were frantic. Wooshin’s strength made resistance useless. Just then, another shadow burst around the corner.

“Huh? What the—”

Both Wooshin and the guard’s eyes flicked toward him.

“What do you think? Drunk idiot.”

Yeonwoo shot out, charging. The techniques Suho drilled into him flickered through his mind, but they tangled under pressure. If he couldn’t execute from training, he’d use force. He lunged, ready to shove with raw momentum.

It looked reckless—but Wooshin understood instantly. Yeonwoo wanted to divert the newcomer’s attention, even briefly. That split-second awareness shifted danger off Wooshin.

A sharp, proud instinct.

The guard beneath Wooshin went limp for a moment—and Wooshin disengaged, pivoting toward the new threat. The second man was already reaching for his holster—gun drawn, muzzle lifting toward Yeonwoo—

Wooshin was faster.

He gripped the man’s throat, twisting his wrist violently.

“Ugh!”

The gun clattered, useless, unfired. Wooshin kicked it away and Yeonwoo lunged, snatching it off the floor.

“You bastard—!”

The man swung at Wooshin’s jaw. Wooshin slipped the strike, driving his fist into the man’s gut. A brutal, dull crack landed; the man doubled, unable even to groan.

Clutching his stomach, he staggered backward, reaching toward his ear—trying to call backup. Wooshin’s knee slammed up into his solar plexus, cutting off breath. A large hand caught his hair, yanking his head back. Cold eyes bore down.

“Looking for this?”