Snake Venom Ch 93

Chapter 93

 

Lee Yeonwoo gazed down at the lunchbox Im Sehan had boasted of purchasing. Even at a glance, it was generous and appetizing. A modest early toast, perhaps, or a declaration to muster strength until the very end. The moment he surmised as much, a quiet melancholy settled over him; from behind, Cheon Wooshin remarked in an indifferent tone.

 

“No need for such theatrics.”

 

The words might have seemed callously dampening, yet Im Sehan merely grinned playfully.

 

“Yessir. Provided you grant us a long vacation once it’s over.”

 

Lee Yeonwoo’s worry that the sparks might fly toward his own predicament proved unfounded. Im Sehan, evidently accustomed to such exchanges, added another flourish with perfect nonchalance and took his seat.

 

Joo Doyoung pulled out the chair beside Im Sehan and sat. As though the earlier scolding had never occurred, he claimed the spot naturally; Im Sehan slid a lunchbox toward him. Accepting it as a matter of course, Joo Doyoung unwrapped it and cast Lee Yeonwoo the briefest of glances.

 

“Why are you standing there like an idiot?”

 

The grumbled mutter registered as directed at him only in the instant it sank in; Jung Suho gently nudged Lee Yeonwoo’s back.

 

“Come on, let’s eat.”

 

Despite the urging of both men, Lee Yeonwoo could not easily move. The thought that he now occupied a seat no longer permitted to him rooted him in place.

 

The space that had felt as comfortable as home until yesterday suddenly seemed awkward and foreign. He could not bear to burden the oblivious teammates with worry, yet his body creaked as though malfunctioning. Frustrated with himself for moving contrary to his heart, Lee Yeonwoo lowered his eyes—when a voice reached him.

 

“Sit.”

 

Cheon Wooshin drew out a chair as he spoke. Only upon hearing that low permission could Lee Yeonwoo finally take his place.

 

“This one’s for our maknae.”

 

Im Sehan slowly pushed a lunchbox toward the dawdling Lee Yeonwoo. Beneath the transparent lid gleamed the double helping of rolled omelet he had ordered. Lee Yeonwoo bowed his head in thanks and silently regarded it.

 

“Men get the pork cutlet!”

 

Jung Suho bellowed, snatching his own lunchbox and noisily claiming a seat. He casually passed the bottled water that had been in front of him to Lee Yeonwoo—just as he had done for Im Sehan and Joo Doyoung, as though they were a team long accustomed to one another.

 

Colleagues who bought him a double omelet after he had been threatened with one, who looked after him like an elder brother or an exasperating younger sibling—such people had appeared in his life. Even if he was no longer their colleague, Lee Yeonwoo suspected this moment would linger in memory for a long while.

 

Gratitude and overwhelming emotion quietly subsided. To calm the surging feelings, Lee Yeonwoo gulped down the water.

 

“Thank you for the meal.”

 

The nearly simultaneous greeting marked the raising of spoons. Sitting together like this for a meal was a first. For Lee Yeonwoo, it would likely be the first and last precious mealtime.

 

Perhaps that was why the rice would not go down. Though hunger gnawed fiercely enough to set off his stomach clock, his throat felt clogged. It might have been the persistent, inexplicable nausea. Lee Yeonwoo placed a large piece of rolled omelet in his mouth and stole a glance at Cheon Wooshin. Seeing the portion before him apparently untouched further dulled his appetite.

 

Cheon Wooshin’s face, fixed solely on the food, appeared unchanged from usual unless scrutinized. Yet the brief wrinkling of his nose bridge and the transparent exhalations leaking forth told the truth. Though future matters took precedence, and though he had swiftly tied up yesterday’s affair out of understanding for everyone’s circumstances, Cheon Wooshin was still suffering.

 

It was only natural. How shocking it must have been to witness, slap-like, a situation he had never intended even in dreams. Reconsidering his inner turmoil, the rice now felt like chewing stones. As Lee Yeonwoo barely swallowed the rough grains, a voice came.

 

“Does it not suit your taste?”

 

Im Sehan inquired casually. The sight of the usually voracious Lee Yeonwoo merely picking at his food must have seemed exceedingly odd.

 

“Ah, no.”

 

Lee Yeonwoo shook his head at once. Lack of appetite was one thing; sincerity was another. Jolted to awareness, he hurriedly began wielding his spoon. As always, he heaped it high with rice and stuffed his cheeks until they bulged with side dishes. Chewing with both cheeks full, he covered his mouth and spoke.

 

“It’s really delicious.”

 

“I didn’t force it on you, but hearing it’s good lifts my spirits.”

 

Im Sehan smiled sheepishly and placed a piece of his own rolled omelet atop Lee Yeonwoo’s lunchbox. Lee Yeonwoo bowed again and promptly ate what had been given.

 

Cheon Wooshin’s sunken gaze turned toward Lee Yeonwoo. Moments later, an even colder light fell away.

 

 

 

Even after the meal concluded, everyone moved with disciplined efficiency to their respective tasks. Thanks to them, the table—once cluttered with takeout packaging—stood impeccably cleared.

 

When Lee Yeonwoo returned from discarding the trash, the office was perfectly ordered, the very air refreshed. Jung Suho was setting down coffee on the table.

 

Im Sehan and Joo Doyoung, who had been conversing before the large screen, spotted Cheon Wooshin taking his seat and ceased talking. Exchanging a silent glance with Joo Doyoung, Im Sehan patted his shoulder. At that signal, Joo Doyoung’s expression turned grave. It seemed he would be the presenter this time.

 

The team remained unaware that Lee Yeonwoo had been excluded. He stared longingly at the single chair left vacant—presumably for him—like a painting of rice cakes beyond reach, when someone lightly tapped his shoulder. Jung Suho, wearing a gentle smile, wrapped an arm around Lee Yeonwoo’s back and guided him forward.

 

“Please take good care of us.”

 

The cryptic remark accompanied the motion. Dragged unwittingly to the table’s edge, Lee Yeonwoo glanced nervously at Cheon Wooshin. Contrary to his fear of receiving an eviction order, Cheon Wooshin’s demeanor bordered on indifference. He bestowed a brief look upon Lee Yeonwoo before turning toward the screen. In the past, Lee Yeonwoo would have taken it as permission, but now, shrunk to his smallest, he behaved like an outsider.

 

“Sit.”

 

Once again, only after Cheon Wooshin’s sanction could he settle.

 

Joo Doyoung, standing beside the screen, drew a deep breath. His expression was fairly confident, yet his nape was mottled with red. He checked the materials in his hand once more, surveyed the team, and finally cleared his throat.

 

“Then… File name Snake Venom, eleventh briefing—shall begin.”

 

As expected of nerves, he stumbled over the words. Displeased with his own slip, Joo Doyoung muttered briefly under his breath and operated the remote. Data summarizing yesterday’s operation filled the screen.

 

“It was dangerous, but thanks to intercepting the disposer midway, information gathering proceeded swiftly. By tracing the remittance routes of the injector and disposer, I located the final account serving as the vault. I also identified the ultimate business entity that launders illicit digital transactions into legitimate profits.”

 

Joo Doyoung displayed a photograph.

 

“Here.”

 

Scattered attention converged once more.

 

It was a high-rise building sheathed in transparent glass and mirror-like reflective steel framework. Dazzling colored lights extravagantly outlined the structure, excessive reflections dyeing the surroundings in vivid hues. Consequently, the exterior walls appeared as though the building itself cradled light within.

 

Lee Yeonwoo fixed his gaze on the horizontally affixed sign reading MIRAGE along the edge. In contrast to the glamorous facade, the lettering was relatively muted—as if discreetly proclaiming that, no matter how refined, the essence remained a decadent establishment dealing in narcotics. As Lee Yeonwoo scanned the club’s exterior with curious eyes, Cheon Wooshin raised the tail of his sentence.

 

“This place?”

 

It was less a question than a murmur of bemusement. Cheon Wooshin slowly swept his gaze over the building photograph.

 

He already knew of the club’s existence. It was the venue where he had first transacted with Shin Junseong. The moment he recalled stepping into the skyscraper under an assumed identity, unpleasant memories surged forth.

 

Shin Junseong, filming men and women in drug-fueled orgies, had thrust drugs at him without so much as a greeting. Upon Cheon Wooshin’s refusal—he did not partake—Shin Junseong’s eyes had widened like a child beholding a rare creature, an innocence bordering on pure malice. It had taken months merely to establish contact. Had it not been for information on neutral-zone gold-mine extraction once under his purview, the deal would never have materialized. Befitting a player in that underworld, his wariness ran deep.

 

A shrewd merchant and perverse libertine who spared no means to profit from drugs. Even to Cheon Wooshin, adept at leveraging interests and psychological warfare, Shin Junseong remained a notably troublesome figure.

 

Thus, a person of high utility. After deciding to use Shin Junseong as an information source, Cheon Wooshin had meticulously vetted every detail: identity, upbringing, preferences, transaction methods, favored venues.

 

He had poured particular effort into investigating MIRAGE, the site of their inaugural deal. Blueprints, capital flow, what was sold on each floor, the clientele, whether a production facility lurked within—he and the team had pounded the pavement to unearth it all. The intelligence verified then could not possibly have been false. Cheon Wooshin’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Has the ownership changed recently?”

 

Joo Doyoung nodded.

 

“Yes—most likely a nominal proxy. The crucial point is that interior renovations were completed two months ago. Every floor was overhauled, so we don’t know how the insides have been altered.”

 

Im Sehan interjected at the perfect moment.

 

“If ownership shifted and the interior was gutted, our existing intel has already been rendered obsolete.”

 

“Which is precisely why we must investigate the club from a fresh perspective.”

 

Their seamless back-and-forth resembled a rehearsal long perfected. Buoyed by Im Sehan’s support, Joo Doyoung pressed on with renewed vigor.