Snake Venom Ch 64

Chapter 64

“Do you think they noticed we were onto them?”

As Jung Suho added the question, Cheon Wooshin rested his chin on a hand that had been placed on the table.

“That’s possible. Or they might have already planned to shut the place down. It’s not exactly a business you can run in one spot for too long. But if they went so far as to construct an entire building, there’s a high probability that production was on a pretty large scale.”

“Yes, as you said, the scale was certainly large.”

Then, moving slowly, Cheon Wooshin leaned back against the chair and lightly tapped the table with his fingertips.

“What matters most is that it’s already been abandoned.”

This meant it had already lost its function both as evidence and as a potential lead. Nodding in agreement, Im Sehan displayed photos on the screen of the entrance and interior Lee Yeonwoo had discovered. The dim light from the images darkened the office’s atmosphere as well.

Inside the factory, the air was static and damp, as if time had come to a halt. The cement walls, stained from chemical exposure, were discolored and streaked. Equipment and furnishings, now worthless as evidence, were strewn across the long tables and floor.

The next set of photos showed more of the same. Slashed plastic, likely destroyed to eliminate evidence, looked like old cobwebs. It resembled a horror movie set—or perhaps, to Lee Yeonwoo, it felt like one of the hunting grounds he had frequented countless times. Even in photos, the chaotic interior looked as if nothing usable could be salvaged.

Nonetheless, as Cheon Wooshin scrutinized each image, he finally spoke.

“Keep monitoring. The behavior of the tenants leasing space in the building, too. If suppliers were coming and going until recently, it means the place may still be under someone’s control.”

“Understood. Ah, the site’s under preservation—would you like to visit it?”

No matter how detailed Im Sehan’s reports were, they couldn’t compare to seeing it in person. Cheon Wooshin nodded.

“All the more reason to go, especially if there’s supposedly nothing useful left.”

Still resting his chin on his hand, Cheon Wooshin cast a sidelong glance at Lee Yeonwoo. Nothing passed between them but that gaze—yet Lee Yeonwoo’s eyes sharpened in response. He understood immediately: he was being asked to accompany them and do his part.

“Yes, I’ll update the data once the team leader returns. Let’s move quickly to the next item.”

When Im Sehan operated the remote, the screen displayed the face of President Park.

“I’m sure you all already know what kind of bastard this guy is.”

There were two photos of Park. One showed a greasy, arrogant face, the other a beaten one so disfigured it was hard to recognize as the same person.

Why show both pictures side-by-side? The question barely formed in Lee Yeonwoo’s mind before his gaze slid toward Cheon Wooshin. The directional lighting highlighted his elegant profile and long eyelashes, making his expressionless face seem oddly natural.

“I really hope we never see him outside of prison again.”

With that gentlemanly curse, Im Sehan began listing Park’s wrongdoings under the guise of sharing intel. Jung Suho pulled a face of revulsion and stuck out his tongue, while Ju Doyoung mimed exaggerated dry heaving.

“Most of the files Park handed over were encrypted, but hey—we’ve got Ju Doyoung, don’t we?”

The compliment from Im Sehan wasn’t reserved only for Lee Yeonwoo. Ju Doyoung, who had been sitting there like he couldn’t care less, lifted his chin with pride. He looked like a child showing off.

“Most of the data pertained to the operation of Utopia Sodom and money laundering. And he had quite a few side hustles, too.”

Im Sehan flipped the page.

“This is the list of clients for his prostitution ring.”

Park had repeatedly tried to lure Lee Yeonwoo into selling his body. To view the full list of clients Park had connections with required turning through several pages. The list of video files went on for quite a while as well. But knowing what kind of content they contained, no one bothered opening them.

“True to form, the pervert who made money through videos left plenty of evidence. Some of it was partially corrupted during decryption, but it’ll still serve well in court. As per the team leader’s instructions, this was handed directly to the prosecution. And lastly… this is the data that really matters to us.”

The screen, which had been showing a clean side view of Im Sehan, changed hues.

“This was buried deep in the data.”

The files were crude and messy, hard to make out. Im Sehan quickly flipped to the next page.

“This was the most vicious of Park’s side operations. While organizing it, we also cross-referenced and supplemented it with the other intel we’d collected.”

The original format was shown briefly for formality, then it transitioned into a neatly organized dossier, just like with Park earlier. A new face filled the screen. Lee Yeonwoo’s eyes widened. The label “carnivore-type bear” and “half-human” caught his eye.

“He’s the first trail we managed to catch.”

Lee Yeonwoo looked at the photo again. True to the “bear” and “half-human” traits, the man had a massive frame and face. He glared into the camera with a murky, cocky expression devoid of any light. The lewd smirk and unsettling eyes were new to him, but the scent that lingered from this man’s last encounter came rushing back to Lee Yeonwoo.

Im Sehan pushed his glasses up and continued.

“As we’d already suspected, Park served as the disposal site for the Snake Venom injectees. Meaning—he ground up and destroyed people who were no longer needed. Sodom was the perfect place for such a job.”

Blinking as he listened to Im Sehan’s steady tone, Lee Yeonwoo was reminded of Sodom, now gone but once his personal hell with no exit.

Its long corridors lined with sealed rooms like centipede legs were filled daily with participants—each with different backgrounds and circumstances. The cold, dark cells echoed with muffled sobs, poison-laced screams, and suppressed groans. Even that changed daily, replaced by new voices. Trapped in unending darkness, Lee Yeonwoo had learned to distinguish between survival and death through the scents each person emitted.

A place where death or the abyss endlessly repeated. A hunting ground for killing faceless strangers. It was the perfect place for erasing someone completely. Park didn’t even have to get his hands dirty and made extra money in the process—a win-win deal for him.

Arresting Park finally revealed how the main players behind Snake Venom used and discarded people. They would tempt targets with irresistible sums, exploit them for work, and then sell them off to Park. The money passed through virtual accounts and circled back to the instigators, with Park taking a cut.

Even while maintaining a composed tone, Im Sehan eventually wore a troubled look.

“The thing is, Park wasn’t a key player. There’s no direct connection to whoever commissioned the job. Just like how drugs are often passed anonymously, this whole operation followed a similar pattern. Park was nothing more or less than a middleman tasked with handling the goods.”

Lee Yeonwoo glanced around. The feeling that the air had suddenly gone cold wasn’t just his imagination. Jung Suho and Ju Doyoung had grown deadly serious. Cheon Wooshin, though expressionless as always, emanated an even chillier presence.

“Park told us it was the only arrangement he could manage. His opponents were too dangerous to exploit for more information or higher profits. He realized that quickly and stuck to his role. That’s probably why the operation lasted as long as it did.”

Only now did Lee Yeonwoo fully grasp why Im Sehan had described the Snake Venom injectees as “tails.”

The victims of the drug were often influential figures in their respective fields, not average civilians. That made comprehensive investigations all the more threatening to the perpetrators. So they used outsiders—those unrelated to them—to carry out direct harm. Even Park, the one who managed the disposal, had been treated like a mere tool. Once again, Lee Yeonwoo felt the full weight of how precise and secretive the enemy Cheon Wooshin’s team was up against.

The desperate cries of the carnivore-type bear and half-human who had once claimed to know nothing, the sharp gunshot that had cut through the air—all echoed in Lee Yeonwoo’s mind. Even when bullets were fired into living flesh, they had yielded no useful information. What kind of expression had Cheon Wooshin worn back then? Was he as cold and quiet as he was now?

Just when they thought they’d grabbed a solid lead, it turned out to be a dead end too. That was Im Sehan’s conclusion. To have peeled back Park’s entire outer layer and gained so little. Breathing in the heavy, sinking air, Im Sehan pressed the remote once more.

“Before we took down Sodom, there was someone else who had received the next request.”

Im Sehan couldn’t completely hide the bitterness in his tone.

“All we have is this one piece of paper—and the date for the handoff. The location is only revealed close to the appointed time. They must know Park’s been caught, so there’s almost no chance they’ll proceed as originally planned.”

The file Im Sehan brought up was a small sheet filled with handwritten text. Jung Suho squinted at it.

“What is that? A business card or something?”

[We do everything except what’s impossible.

Human or half-human (pureblood), no problem. Absolute confidentiality guaranteed.

Price determined after consultation. We’ll beat anyone’s price—guaranteed.]