Tang Poison Research Compound, Deep Eastern Mountains
The bitter scent of herbs, rotting flesh, and metallic blood had long lost its meaning to him. For Shin Jiho, this place wasn't hell—hell would have been a mercy.
A frail young man no older than nineteen, he sat quietly on the cold stone floor, his bones sharp beneath thin skin, eyes glazed from yet another day of being force-fed poison.
He was Batch #17 — one of the last groups of human test subjects used by the Tang Clan, infamous for their mastery of all things venomous.
Out of thirty-two children taken a decade ago, only five remained. The rest had succumbed — some in silence, some screaming as their insides melted, ruptured, or shut down. Jiho had watched them die, one by one. Yet somehow, his body — weak and fragile — had adapted.
He healed. Then broke. Then healed again.
It became a cycle. Pain, suffering, then numbness. Until numbness became normal.
Today was different.
A hush had spread through the compound. The higher-ups whispered of a decree — the Murim Alliance had condemned human experimentation. Batch #17 would be the last.
Jiho should've felt relief. He didn't.
He felt something else.
Something strange... awakening inside him.
"You're the last one still reacting... interesting," said a soft, dangerous voice behind him.
A figure stepped forward — her robes silk, her eyes cold and curious. One of the senior poison researchers. She looked at Jiho not like a person, but like a puzzle she was close to solving.
"Let's see how far you've come, Jiho…"
It had been two years since Tang Meiyin took over Batch #17. She arrived not as a torturer—but as a scholar. A woman cloaked in silk and silence, with sharp eyes and steady hands that danced between poison vials and pressure points.
Among the few survivors of her batch, one stood out more than others.
Shin Jiho.
Unlike the others—who trembled, bled, or wept—he endured. Every drop of venom, every infusion of toxin… was met not with resistance, but adaptation. His body evolved. Slowly. Painfully.
She had watched it all. Logically, clinically. At first.
But over the months, her gaze lingered longer.
His once-sickly form had grown lean and defined, like a blade tempered by fire and venom. His skin, once pale, held a strange hue—touched by the alchemy of countless poisons.
When preparing him for full-body toxin assessments, robes were always removed. Protocol. But Jiho's body—mutated in ways unrecorded—his manhood became bigger than most men. The veins on it shimmered faintly, a blend of violet and green. And… that was one thing she could never unsee, no matter how she tried.
She, Meiyin, became obsessed like maiden in love.
"You're a marvel, Jiho…" she had once whispered, when he was half-conscious. "What exactly are you becoming?"
She never expected him to answer. Yet in time, he began watching her too.
His eyes had changed. From dull submission to sharp calculation. Hunger. Understanding.
Now, at nineteen, he was no longer just a test subject.He was a man—dangerous, beautiful, and unknown.
One evening, she brought him proper food. Real meat. Hot tea. Fresh rice. She said nothing, just placed it before him and waited.
He looked at the food, then at her. "Why?"
Meiyin met his gaze, her lips curling slightly. "Because you're worth more than bones and pain now."
That night, Meiyin whisper words that makes Jiho craves for her.
"Let's rinse your mouth clean from poison so I can taste you..."
Hearing it, his bulge between his legs hardened.
As the air between them grew thick with unspoken tension, Jiho couldn't help but notice the way Tang Meiyin's gaze lingered on him. Her eyes, usually so calculating and composed, now shimmered with something far more dangerous.
She stood across from him, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of jasmine, yet distant enough to keep their connection charged with anticipation.
Without thinking, he leaned slightly forward, his body instinctively reacting to the subtle pull between them. Tang Meiyin's lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.
Then, it happened.
Jiho's breath caught as he watched her. Slowly, her tongue slipped out of her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips. The motion was deliberate, almost teasing, and he felt a jolt of heat surge through him. She caught his eye, a mischievous glint flickering there.
"Do you want to know what it feels like, Jiho?" she whispered, her voice soft, yet laced with something deeper—something darker.
"What it feels like to love a woman properly, like picking a flower..."
That night was Jiho's first time feeling bliss from a woman, yet unbeknownst to him, it was Meiyin's first time as well.
---
The next morning, Shin Jiho stepped back into the dimly lit ward where the remaining test subjects were kept. It was a long, narrow room carved from stone, lined with straw mats and thin blankets — barely enough to keep the cold from gnawing at the bones. This was their only sanctuary, if it could even be called that.
Four other survivors sat in silence. Three boys and one girl, all around his age, though the years of poison and pain had aged them in ways that numbers couldn't explain.
The girl looked up as Jiho walked in. Her name was Sohee — sharp-tongued, fiercely observant, and one of the few in the batch who still smiled from time to time.
"You're late," she said, raising an eyebrow. Her voice was light, but there was a shadow of concern beneath it. "You were gone all night."
Jiho hesitated. His gaze drifted to the far wall as he slowly took his place on his worn-out mat. His body ached, though not entirely from poison this time, but passionate physical activity. yet there was a weight on his chest — not physical, but emotional.
He forced a shrug, trying to sound casual. "They wanted extended observation, that's all."
Sohee leaned forward slightly, her tone quieter now. "You sure? Usually, they wrap it up by midnight…"
The others glanced over but said nothing. In this place, curiosity could be dangerous. Still, they all knew — staying in the lab overnight meant something out of the ordinary.
Jiho didn't answer. His fingers clenched lightly over his thin blanket. A part of him wanted to speak, to share… but something held him back. The truth was complicated. Strange. It felt like it belonged to him alone.
Sohee studied him for a moment longer, then let it go. She shifted back and stared up at the stone ceiling, arms behind her head.
"Well, whatever. Just don't go dying before I beat you in chess again."
Jiho let out a small breath — not quite a laugh, but close. The tension eased slightly.
For now, the secret would remain his.
But something had changed.
Inside him… and around him.
And deep down, Jiho knew: the era of being a passive experiment was ending. A new chapter was coming — one where he would no longer just survive.
He would take control.