Snake Venom Ch 82

Chapter 82

Well, this was troublesome. With a rueful expression, Jung Suho scratched the back of his head. It had been a few minutes since he signaled that he was ready, and although it seemed that Cheon Wooshin’s next order was delayed, everything Wooshin did always had a reason. All Suho needed to do right now was wait—yet he could not bring himself to ignore the pitiful sobbing at his feet.

Suho knelt on one knee before Sio. His solid frame drew near, and the men beside Sio twitched instinctively, but Suho did not spare them so much as a glance. His focus was solely on Sio.

“Hic… hngh… ugh…”

Sio’s face, streaked with tears, was smeared in blood. His brand-new shirt was shredded beyond repair, and his pants had already been stripped away, leaving his pale legs exposed. His thighs, blue with burst capillaries, were covered in the imprints of hands that had touched him without permission. How was one supposed to treat someone who was both perpetrator and victim of his own case? Suho rolled his eyes thoughtfully before, with care, choosing his words.

“Team Leader isn’t the merciless type. If you just wait a bit, he’ll give direction.”

“M-my money… My money… It’s all gone. That money… that money…”

Sio rambled, blind to everything else—like someone with a screw missing. If a soul could be touched, Suho felt that the jagged edge of it would scrape beneath his fingertips. The last person he saw break like this had been a war orphan at the southern front, a year ago.

“This is… a problem.”

He swallowed the rest—this is difficult—and only scratched the back of his head again. If only Im Sehan were here; that guy excelled at soothing and calming people. They bickered constantly, yet at critical times, it was always Sehan who filled the gaps Suho could not.

“Come here.”

At that moment, Cheon Wooshin’s voice cut through the air. Relief washed over Suho, and he rose quickly, backing away with a respectful nod. Wooshin stepped forward, and the men alternated their gazes between the two, eyes wide and frantic, scrabbling for any path to survival.

Wooshin, standing casually and resting his weight on one leg, looked down at Sio. Despite Sio’s pitiful state, the gaze trained upon him was frigid.

“What did he do right to be untied?”

Wasn’t this very man the reason Wooshin changed the plan? Even Suho, who usually interpreted Wooshin best, faltered at the unexpected response. Such moments were rare.

“My apologies.”

Suho instantly moved to correct it—but Wooshin was already kneeling and holding out handcuffs. Sio stared blankly at them, then lifted his hands without protest, tears falling in large drops.

“Stop crying. It’s loud.”

“…….”

Sio lowered his eyes immediately, biting his lips tight. He couldn’t stop the occasional sniffle, but the sobs quieted. Foolish as he had acted, Sio was quick on the uptake—his instincts honed by the survival mechanisms of half-humans and a life of poverty. He sensed the warning laced in Wooshin’s tone.

The man before him was unlike anyone he had ever met—qualitatively on another level. His presence alone altered the air. Even speaking softly, the meaning beneath the words was cold enough to raise goosebumps. This man might be more frightening than the bear-like brute who subdued four grown men with his bare hands, more terrifying than the thugs in the taxi. Years of survival instincts whispered that truth.

When the sobbing quieted, Wooshin turned to the abductors.

His eyes scanned their faces one by one as if engraving their features in his mind. The un-chambered gun dangled loosely in his hand, but that thoughtless handling alone made them tremble. They stayed silent, barely breathing, as though silence could conceal them. Cars passed occasionally, but the stillness remained unshaken.

“Catching you, I’m annoyed at how… utterly mediocre you are.”

His voice was polite—elegant even—yet the contempt beneath it was razor-sharp. His gaze flicked toward one man. The motion seemed careless, yet the gun rose in an instant, aimed unerringly. The man realized too late.

“W-what, what are you—!”

“Do not move. One more mistake, and something else will get pierced.”

Before the sentence finished, the gun fired into the man’s instep. Bang! Blood sprayed thickly.

“Aaaargh!”

As the man writhed, the others froze in abject horror. This was a demonstration—seizing dominance, crushing their spirit. It was a warning and threat, delivered without negotiation—like the bullet burying itself in flesh.

Wooshin relaxed his grip and let the gun hang loose again, yet true fear finally rooted in the men’s eyes. Their last shreds of resistance withered.

“So, is there really no boss here?”

“……”

Silence—born not from defiance, but because the answer was complicated. Wooshin knew that. He did not ask expecting truth; he asked to torment.

A beat passed. Then one man, eyeing the others, jerked his chin desperately.

“…H-him. It’s him.”

Wooshin’s gaze slid toward the pointed direction.

“Is that so?”

Encouraged, the man nodded frantically.

“Y-yes. He gets jobs. W-we follow him. He’s the one.”

A pathetic, calculating attempt at survival.

“I see.”

Wooshin smiled. The accused man turned pale, curses seething behind clenched teeth. That idiot—

“H-how could you say that?! You trying to get us all killed?!”

“You’ll die, idiot! I only followed orders!”

“Tch.”

The so-called leader exhaled in disbelief. He’d let himself be fooled by bait. Instead of understanding the hierarchy trap, he’d confessed to save himself.

Suho removed the cuffs from the ratted-out man. Wooshin spoke:

“You don’t keep trash like that, even as a hobby. Corner it, and it bites its master.”

The cuffs hit the ground. Then—three gunshots split the air. The man who tattled, the wounded one, and the thug similar in build to Sio all fell, skulls snapping back before slumping lifeless.

Wooshin extended his hand toward the designated “boss.”

“Give me your phone.”

The phone was surrendered, passed to Suho, who attached a small device as Yeonwoo had done before.

“Sio.”

Sio opened his sticky-eyelashed eyes.

“ID?”

Sio gestured weakly toward the taxi floor. With permission, he retrieved his card. Wooshin nodded.

“Take off your shirt.”

The torn-open shirt easily peeled away. It was placed on the man with Sio’s build, and Suho left that body before Wooshin.

Sio did not dare imagine what came next.