Snake Venom Ch 70

Chapter 70

At 2:30 a.m., the phone resting in Lee Yeonwoo’s palm blinked in short intervals. Though he had seemed to be sleeping soundly, his eyes opened the moment the vibration hummed. Without making a sound, he rose. Only a faint trace of drink and fatigue clung to his features; otherwise, he looked composed.

Sio, on the other hand, was snoring thunderously.

Right before passing out, drunk to the very roots of his hair, Sio had thrust his phone at Yeonwoo, urging him to look at his beautiful little brother. Then, declaring he missed him—that he pitied him—he had even cried. He was the one who drank the most, and the first to collapse. Yeonwoo had hauled Sio’s limp body onto the bed, tucked him neatly under the blankets, and taken the sofa.

Because of that, obtaining the carelessly placed phone had been a trivial matter. With Sio snoring rhythmically, Yeonwoo slotted a small chip into the device. It took only seconds. His own phone flashed once. No message, only a single dot.

Retrieving the chip, Yeonwoo placed Sio’s phone back exactly where it had been. Sio smacked his lips, then resumed snoring with renewed force.

His name was Sio—a small-time errand runner in the shadows who did not shy from illegal work if it meant money. The same age as Yeonwoo, his life was shabby and strained from caring for his ailing brother. He was neither thriving in that underworld nor able to claw his way out of it. That was partly because he lacked the cruelty required to climb higher, but—

I just want… to live with Siyun.

—because he had someone he must protect.

Otherwise, there’s no point…

His drunken muttering was no empty drunken ramble. His life had been too harsh for drink alone to loosen his lips. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he met someone he considered “the same,” or because Yeonwoo reminded him of his brother. Truthfully, neither reason alone was enough—but Sio had needed a pretext to let himself collapse. It was proof of how exhausted he was.

Hearing the part of his heart he had hidden from everyone, Yeonwoo stared down at him for a long moment. On his blotchy, drink-flushed face, another face overlapped. His own grandmother who had waited her whole life for him, the self who missed her, and the face of Sio’s brother he had only seen in photos.

Sio had referred to Yeonwoo’s monstrous father in polite speech until the end—not out of respect for him, but for Yeonwoo, and for the ties connected to Yeonwoo. Such consideration could not be faked. That too was simply his nature.

Drunk, Sio had murmured again and again that Yeonwoo resembled his brother, that looking at him softened his heart. And in truth—Yeonwoo felt the same. Their homes, their worlds, the direction of their lives—all different. Yet somehow they shared the same atmosphere, the same ache. It was difficult to ignore the kinship that rose unbidden.

Yeonwoo pulled the blanket up to Sio’s chin, tucking him in neatly, then returned to the sofa. Burying his face in the cushion, he forced himself to sleep.

The next morning, Yeonwoo woke clutching his throbbing head. 8:30 a.m. the clock read. He sat up at once, fingers flying to open his messages.

He had set three alarms—ten minutes apart—yet ten more minutes had passed after the final one. He had only two minutes before he was due to send his wake-up report.

[I’m awake. Moving out now.]

As he hurriedly sent the message, he glanced at Sio. Despite the commotion, Sio lay curled toward the wall, unmoving, breathing evenly.

He would have to move fast to arrive on time. Folding the blanket neatly, Yeonwoo headed to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth with the one Sio gave him last night, washed his face, and, spotting lotion, applied a bit to his cheeks.

“……”

If he had more time, he would have showered too. Realizing he was fussing over his appearance even while rushing, he cleared his throat lightly.

Putting on his coat, he glanced at Sio again. It felt rude to leave without saying anything. He gently shook Sio’s shoulder.

“Mmh…”

Sio’s tousled head lifted sluggishly. With dark circles drooping down his cheeks, he looked thoroughly hungover.

“A friend reached out. I can stay with him for about a month.”

“That’s good…”

Sio mumbled into his pillow, releasing a low groan thick with misery.

“I’ll contact you within the week.”

“Thanks… contact…”

His voice trailed. Yeonwoo’s expression dimmed for a moment, then he spoke again.

“I’ll wait.”

“Mm. Can’t walk you out…”

“It’s okay.”

With a short farewell, Yeonwoo stepped outside. The sky was heavy with clouds—rain seemed imminent.

He walked the twisting alley without once losing his way and placed a call. The ring didn’t last long before a quiet voice answered.

— Shall I buy you a hangover drink?

Instead of asking how he slept, he offered what was needed—polite, dry humor. A signal that everything had gone as planned, and a soft praise for executing the mission well. Beneath it was the familiar warmth of Cheon Wooshin. Hearing it, Yeonwoo smiled.

“No need. If you don’t mind, buy me gukbap. Pork soup.”

— Let’s stop and eat on the way.

With the tracker implanted in his body, pinpointing his location was trivial. Knowing Wooshin could find him anywhere brought not discomfort, but a strange sense of security.

“I wonder if you slept well, Team Leader.”

They had confirmed each other’s safety already, yet he said it aloud simply because he liked exchanging greetings.

— Hm… aside from Seolkyung nagging me.

The joking reassurance revealed his concern. While Yeonwoo infiltrated Sio’s space, Cheon Wooshin had stayed overnight in Seolkyung’s lab. It was time for his check-up anyway, and after the recent side effects, staying near her was safest.

A taxi bearing the “reserved” sign pulled up in front of Yeonwoo.

— Come safely.

About forty minutes until they would meet. Yeonwoo’s heart fluttered. Smiling at the pleasant thrum in his chest, he got into the taxi.

The vehicle soon disappeared into the road.

For a very brief moment, consciousness returned.

His mutated skin sagged like kneaded dough, and his gums—bare from repeated extractions—exposed inflamed raw flesh. Yellowed sclera and clouded pupils could no longer focus on anything.

He was no longer human—nor beast. Something in between or neither. That broken figure saw a shadow in his dimming vision. Cheon Wooshin—wearing a falsified identity.

The man recognized him. Despite losing his sight, hearing, and voice, trapped in hell alone, he recognized Wooshin who had infiltrated the lab wearing another face.

He stared up at Wooshin, like a rotting dead tree. His lips moved. No sound emerged. His twisted mouth could no longer shape meaning.

Don’t be ridiculous.

Wooshin answered him silently. The man’s eyelids twitched. His thin chest trembled. His nail-long claws scraped the blood-stained sheet. His tear ducts reddened, and his swollen eyes bulged.

He was no longer human, yet tears welled clear as ever.

Wooshin nodded.

I will.

I will, for sure. Repeating the vow, he turned. He did not look back.

In the wall—no more than three hand-spans away—small raindrops dotted a tiny window like a breathing hole. The sky outside was thick with storm clouds, though the drizzle was sparse.

It had been weather just like this that day, too.

The unusually damp, heavy air dulled the watchers, and the guards, lazy under the excuse of the weather, failed to notice Wooshin’s infiltration. The sky’s intervention had carried him to Cheon Sejun.

Seolkyung had warned him. His brother’s mind was gone—expect nothing. Treat it as a final goodbye.

The sibling he met that day held nothing of the person he had known—except for the clear film swelling over his pupils. In that moment alone, Wooshin believed without doubt that Cheon Sejun was still Cheon Sejun. Because only then could his promise—his conviction—still mean something.