Snake Venom Ch 75

Chapter 75

“It was only one night. Fix that habit of giving your heart away carelessly.”

“……”

Yeonwoo pressed his lips together and curled his fingers tight. It was not hard to understand why Cheon Wooshin said that—calling someone a friend and feeling pity after a single night together violated professional discipline. And yet, to call it only one night…

Fidgeting with the mug, Yeonwoo slowly lifted his gaze. Their eyes locked immediately.

“For you, it was three seconds.”

It had taken him only three seconds after first meeting Cheon Wooshin to want to survive together, pushing aside selfish instinct. Even if Wooshin had not been the defenseless person Yeonwoo had assumed, that truth remained.

Wooshin held Yeonwoo’s clear gaze for a beat, then let out a quiet scoff. Leaning back lazily into the sofa, he exhaled, then huffed another dry laugh.

“Try calling that flattery.”

His tone dripped disbelief. Only then did Yeonwoo realize how foolish he sounded. Speaking of time as a measure for attachment—what pointless sentiment. He bowed his head deeply.

“Please forget I said that. I’m sorry.”

All those words amounted to a selfish plea to treat Sio differently. As if Wooshin didn’t carry hundreds of lives in his hands already. Asking him to spare one specific life despite knowing the stakes—truly an indulgent request. If that caused even the slightest failure or danger to the team… the thought alone was terrifying.

He needed to shut his eyes and ears for a moment. Nothing had happened yet. Sio might be saved by some stroke of luck. Do not mourn in advance. Do only what you can do. Quietly steadying himself, Yeonwoo waited in the silence until Wooshin chose to break it—a personal penance for his selfish lapse.

“I’m going to sleep.”

With a brief farewell, Wooshin rose. Startled, Yeonwoo’s head snapped up just in time to see him heading to his room. So fast… It made Yeonwoo’s mistake feel twice as heavy. He hurried after him.

“Team leader, wait. Just for a moment—let’s, before we sleep—.”

Wooshin stopped on the stairs, then abruptly turned. Yeonwoo froze mid-step, startled, and Wooshin suddenly leaned in, closing the distance in a single motion.

Their faces met at close range. Yeonwoo forgot how to breathe.

“……”

“……”

Blink—one slow shutter of his eyelashes. The only thing passing between them was a faint shared breath. Wooshin stared straight into Yeonwoo’s eyes.

“When did you say your rut begins?”

…Rut? Here? Now? His mind tripped over itself—but answering came first.

“Uh—two… two weeks from now.”

He was close enough that Yeonwoo could see his surprise reflected in Wooshin’s pupils. Close enough to smell his scent. Every inch of the shrinking distance made Yeonwoo’s heart shudder; he wanted to step back, but his body refused to move. It felt like an invisible force held him captive.

Wooshin did not waver once.

“Two days alone without a partner, correct.”

He was simply repeating information Yeonwoo had told him—but Yeonwoo’s ears rang. He clenched his fist so tightly his nails dug deep.

“Yes.”

Because of that, his voice came out steady, even as cold sweat slid down his back. This reaction was dangerous. He would not stumble again like last time. While he scrambled to reassert control over his racing mind, Wooshin spoke again.

“Are you done?”

…Done? What—oh.

Pierced by his gaze, Yeonwoo jolted and inhaled sharply. The conversation—what had they been talking about? His thoughts tangled uselessly, and he could barely tell how intense the scent was anymore.

“I’m okay—yes. I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Wooshin turned away. His back looked brutally cold.

“Sleep.”

It sounded like hurry up and go away, disguised as gentleness. Yeonwoo stared at that receding figure, then whispered his belated goodnight.

“Sleep… well.”

“I doubt I will.”

Wooshin tossed the words back and shut the door. The hallway lighting blinked off, leaving Yeonwoo alone in thick silence.

“……”

He gazed at the closed door miserably. How disappointing he must seem—unable to draw clear lines at work. Yes, he had made a mistake. Letting emotion cloud judgment, speaking nonsense. He sighed softly.

Working beside him would bring countless moments like this. Would he crumble every time? How pathetic. But some things couldn’t be helped.

Team leader… I’m sorry. This is all new to me. My heart isn’t obeying yet. But I’ll try. Tomorrow I’ll be stronger.

So…

He bowed deeply toward the closed door.

At dusk on the operation day, the sky painted red, Sio arrived at an underground mall along Line 5.

Though unfamiliar with the location, he did not look around anxiously. He focused on keeping his gait natural. Like any ordinary passerby brushing past commuters, he moved steadily toward the facility map.

His eyes darted quickly. The luggage lockers were one level down. He noted the exit numbers, turned a corner, and followed the signs hanging from the ceiling pointing toward the subway.

The corridor stretching toward the station was long. Not crowded, but not empty either—the ideal veil. People came and went in just the right flow to shield his presence again and again.

Sio’s designated locker sat in a quiet area. Entering the code, he opened it to find a sizeable paper bag. He took it and headed straight into the restroom, selecting the innermost stall before opening it.

The first thing he saw was clothing: a neat shirt, a jumper, cotton trousers, clean sneakers. A student’s wardrobe, plain but tidy.

“Pervert bastard.”

People had their kinks, sure—but it still disgusted him. Whether it was because he himself fit the look too well, or because he had to wear the skin of a shy, harmless youth again, he refused to clarify even to himself.

The most important item lay at the bottom. A small white box. Inside, a syringe filled with clear liquid. Sio held it for a moment, rolling it between his fingers. As instructed, it seemed simple enough to use. Don’t panic. With a firm breath, he hid the syringe inside his inner pocket and changed.

Then he stood before the mirror, adjusting his hair. He had dyed it black for today. When money came in, he planned to dye it even flashier again.

He emerged looking like someone completely different. Seeing his reflection in the wall mirror, he chuckled—one outfit change, and he suddenly looked naïve. Snorting at himself, he left the restroom.

Just then, as he stepped onto the escalator, a khaki cap and sharp nose briefly appeared from behind a corner. A man watched Sio’s retreating back with a seemingly idle gaze, then casually blended into the crowd to follow him down.

His distance was perfect, his movement seamless; only the occasional glint in his eyes betrayed a predatory sharpness. Suho moved like a soldier worth a hundred men when on duty.

Without shifting his neutral expression, he lightly touched his earpiece.

—Leaving the restroom, descending toward the platform.

Sio settled midway down the platform. Suho positioned himself diagonally behind him, weight on one leg, casually tapping at his phone—just another student playing a game.

A train announcement echoed. Suho pretended to check the display, glanced once at Sio, then returned to his phone. When the train arrived, Sio boarded through the open door.

—Boarding 6-3.

Suho murmured without lifting his gaze, while another operative entered from Car 2 and walked toward Car 6 at a steady pace. Suho stepped in just before the doors closed, eyes fixed on Sio through the glass.

The train pulled away.