Coagulant Poison 2
There were several advantages to using the venom of a Russell’s viper.
For one thing, these creatures packed an extraordinarily potent toxin. The LD50—the median lethal dose that indicated just how vicious a venom was—came out to a mere 0.16 milligrams when injected intravenously. That was the amount that would kill half the test animals, so for a human the lethal dose sat somewhere between forty and seventy milligrams.
An adult specimen was said to carry roughly 250 milligrams of dry venom. Snake venom was known to be about ninety percent water, which meant the liquid yield ran closer to 2,500 milligrams. Taking the midpoint of the lethal range at fifty-five milligrams, a single Russell’s viper held enough venom to kill around forty-five people.
That was precisely why, in my previous life, the Indian cobra, the saw-scaled viper, the Russell’s viper, and the common krait had been called the Big Four of India’s venomous snakes. The Russell’s viper alone was responsible for roughly forty percent of all snakebite fatalities across Southeast Asia in a given year—an especially vicious piece of work.
In other words, even a tiny amount would be enough to freeze the blood of those Blood Cult bastards. Coat a throwing needle with it, and even if the target escaped the internal energy disruption, there was no guarantee they would make it out alive.
“Looks like we’ll have to catch a few more from Yunnan.”
Grandfather smiled as he examined the ink stick we had made from blood, completely forgetting how he had been wringing me out like a wet rag for the past few days. It really was excellent poison, after all.
One solid hit delivered a cool, refreshing rush of relief for our side and a heavy, choking agony for the enemy—truly a fine toxin by any measure.
“Yes. It would be best to send warriors to bring more of them in. These creatures don’t favor forests; they prefer open plains and the edges of villages. Search around those areas and you should find them.”
“Oho, wide grassy fields near settlements? Understood.”
“Ah—and you won’t need to catch all that many. We can increase their numbers quickly.”
“Is that so?”
And that was another of their virtues. Because they lived in open grasslands rather than deep woods, they were easy to collect. Their main diet consisted of mice and lizards, so they made their homes near the very villages that attracted such prey. Yes, that made them a serious hazard to people—but it also made them simple to harvest.
Was that all? Another key trait was that they were ovoviviparous. Unlike most egg-laying snakes, Russell’s vipers gave birth to live young—a tremendous advantage. A single litter could number twenty to forty offspring. In an era without incubators or thermometers, having the mother hatch the clutch inside her own body made scaling up production far easier. Once the young were born, raising them was a walk in the park. After all, our pinky factory was already running around the clock; the endless stream of pinkies would feed the hatchlings with almost no effort.
All of which made them one of the most useful venomous creatures the Tang family could keep. We would just have to be extremely careful while raising them, given how aggressive they were.
“Yes. Because they give birth to live young instead of laying eggs, increasing their numbers is straightforward.”
“Oh! Is that so? They bear live young? Excellent. Excellent. Then I’ll send the warriors who accompanied us to Yunnan, along with the Poisonous Creature Garden’s chief steward, back there at once to capture as many as possible.”
“Please do.”
Grandfather’s mood, which had been foul for days over Bin-i’s disappearance, brightened for the first time in a while.
While So-ryong was off discussing matters at the Poisonous Creature Garden with Grandfather, Hwa-eun—who had been scolded for days—called all the children to the pavilion. She felt she needed to give them a firm talking-to today.
It might come out as nagging, but after watching what had happened with Bin-i she had decided that pure, unconditional affection alone was not always the best approach. After days of reflection she kept wondering whether, if she had indulged Bin-i’s whims a little less, she might have prevented the child from running away in the first place. If she had scolded him firmly when he sulked and told him that was no way to treat Father, none of this would have happened.
So she flicked the contact bell to summon Yo-hwa, then dragged Cho—who had grown much sleepier ever since becoming a Flying Centipede—out of So-ryong’s quarters where the great blue centipede had been dozing. Of course she brought Yeondu, the Flying Divine Snake curled up beside Cho, as well. Aside from the day every two or three days when it ate baby fire carps, Yeondu barely moved and spent most of its time coiled in So-ryong’s room.
Before So-ryong left for the Poisonous Creature Garden, Hwa-eun had already collected Hyang-i, Seol-i, and Bing-i, so before long every venomous companion except the still-missing Bin-i had gathered beneath the pavilion.
“Everyone’s here.”
Hwa-eun looked them over one by one: the beautiful, massive azure Flying Centipede that Cho had become; the handsome Yeondu who had only recently joined the family; the adorable Seol-i and Bing-i; and Hyang-i, still cute with her yellow and blue spots. And of course Yo-hwa, who wore Hwa-eun’s own face.
As her gaze moved across the children assembled under the pavilion, they all tilted their heads and stared back at her, wondering what this was about. The way Seol-i and Bing-i blinked and cocked their heads was so unbearably cute that Hwa-eun nearly abandoned the lecture and simply rushed over to scoop them into her arms.
She almost forgot she was supposed to give them a serious warning. Those sparkling eyes, bright with curiosity like clear wine poured into a cup, made it nearly impossible not to reach out and stroke them.
Ugh… I-I have to hold back.
She forced down the surge of affection, took a deep breath, and reminded herself of the moment that had steeled her resolve. When Grandfather had scolded her this time, one particular line had driven her to deep reflection.
That single remark made her realize that even while she called herself their mother out loud, some corner of her heart might still have been thinking, They’re not really children. Her own mother and father loved her deeply, yet they had never hesitated to scold her when she needed it. Simply doting on them without discipline meant she was failing as a mother.
It had all started as a sort of game with So-ryong, she supposed. Originally she had only wanted to show him that she had already accepted him in her heart. But as they played at it, the game had grown fun, and before she knew it she had fallen completely into the role, feeling almost like she truly was So-ryong’s wife.
Treating such precious children as a game, however, was no longer acceptable. How terrified she had been when Bin-i vanished.
Having finished her deep breath, Hwa-eun looked at the six children and spoke.
“The reason Mommy gathered you all here is to give you a few rules. You…”
—Koo-koo?
—Tsrut?
—Kishi?
They tilted their heads again, and the sight made her chest tighten so much that her words faltered. Hwa-eun bit her lower lip hard and pressed on.
“…You must never, ever run away from home the way Bin-i did. Do you understand?”
—Kku-kku!
—Tsrrrr!
—Kishit!
—Shaaaah!
“You saw Mommy and Daddy get scolded by Grandfather, right? Daddy especially got an earful. If you’re upset, you have to tell Mommy and Daddy. You can’t just leave home like that…”
She had never once lectured the children before, so she was simply saying whatever came to mind when—
—Kku!
Seol-i’s sudden cry cut through. Hwa-eun turned and saw Bing-i pressing its nose lightly against Seol-i’s cheek, as if taking a sniff—playful, she thought.
“Pay attention.”
Getting a group of non-human children to focus was never easy. She gave a light warning and was about to continue when—
—Koo-koo!
Seol-i cried out again. The irritated sound made every other creature turn to look. That was when they saw Bing-i lightly gripping the side of Seol-i’s neck in its jaws. Hwa-eun reached out to pull them apart, but the play suddenly escalated into a full brawl.
“Bing-i, let go. Why are you—”
—Koo-ooo!
—Kku! Kku! Kku! Kku!
What had started as a gentle nibble turned into Bing-i clamping down hard on Seol-i’s nape—hard enough that it looked painful even from a distance. Startled, Seol-i bolted out of the pavilion.
“S-Seol-i! Bing-i, stop that right now! Mommy is trying to talk to you and you’re bothering your friend and starting fights! Bing-i!”
Neither her shouts nor her scolding made Bing-i stop. The little gecko chased Seol-i up onto the pavilion roof, then back down again, pursuing the fleeing Seol-i across the trees and rocks of the rear garden. The two geckos raced through the garden without pause—one fleeing, one relentlessly following.
—Thud-thud-thud-thud.
—Koo-ooo-ooo!
—Kku! Kku! Kku!
Seol-i’s panicked cries and Bing-i’s short, determined calls filled the air.
“S-Someone stop them!”
She appealed to the others, but they only blinked. Realizing she couldn’t handle this alone, Hwa-eun decided she needed So-ryong. If she left them like this, Seol-i could get seriously hurt.
“M-Mommy’s going to get Daddy, so everyone wait right here.”
After that quick instruction she launched herself toward the Poisonous Creature Garden, a helpless frustration rising in her chest at the fact that she couldn’t even break up a fight among the children.
I had just finished milking every last Russell’s viper we had captured into self-sealing vials when it happened.
“So-ryong! It’s an emergency!”
That voice of Hwa-eun’s carried a familiar sense of déjà vu. Once again she came rushing in, flustered and declaring that something terrible had happened. How many emergencies could one person possibly have?
“An emergency?”
I blinked, wondering what it could be this time, and she grabbed my hand and started pulling.
“I-It’s bad. Seol-i and Bing-i are fighting! Seol-i is screaming and running away, but Bing-i won’t stop chasing. If this keeps up Seol-i could get really hurt!”
“They’re fighting!?”
Gentle, mild-mannered Seol-i and Bing-i going at each other—that really was an emergency. Bing-i had been the one who had so carefully tended to Seol-i when the little gecko was dying; there was no reason for the two of them to fight.
Alarmed, I took off after Hwa-eun toward the pavilion. The sample work was finished and my conversation with Grandfather was over, so there was no particular reason for me to stay behind.
“Yes, I had all the children gathered at the pavilion in the rear garden and was… t-talking to them when it suddenly started.”
“How on earth did a fight break out?”
“I don’t really know. It looked like they were just playing, and then Bing-i bit Seol-i’s neck…”
“The nape?”
Lizards fought for all sorts of reasons, so as I ran I asked for details about the form of the fight, trying to figure out the cause. Hwa-eun explained while I sorted through possibilities based on which species’ instincts ran strongest in Seol-i and Bing-i. Hierarchy was the first candidate. They got along well, but after Seol-i’s injury and the loss of its tail it had grown weaker; the two of them might have been sorting out who was dominant. To people it might not matter much, but among animals the question of who led was vital.
“Yes, it bit the nape and kept making this weird sound—kku! kku! kku! Like that.”
Hwa-eun’s cute imitation of Bing-i’s cry almost made me laugh. I held it in and repeated,
“Kku! kku! kku!?”
“Yes. Making that same sound the whole time while holding onto Seol-i’s neck and chasing.”
“Holding the nape and chasing.”
Leopard geckos and crested geckos both bit the opponent’s neck or cheek when they fought, so on the surface it looked like an ordinary scrap. But just as we burst into the rear garden a sudden thought struck me.
I had checked both of their cloacal regions before, yet they looked so identical I had never been certain. Normally there were clear external differences, but these two were nearly the same. Even so… they were almost certainly a pair.
If Seol-i is female and Bing-i is male, then this is probably…
I stopped in front of the pavilion. Hwa-eun urgently asked the others,
“Where are Seol-i and Bing-i?”
Yo-hwa pointed toward a nearby thicket.
—Kishi!
Hwa-eun started to dash for the bushes, but I caught her wrist.
“Hwa-eun, what looks like fighting might not actually be fighting.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, how do I put this…”
I was still searching for the right words when she shook free of my hand and pushed into the undergrowth.
“I need to make sure Seol-i’s all right. Why did Bing-i bite—?”
Despite my attempt to stop her she forced her way through the brush. Her scolding voice floated out.
“Bing-i, why did you bite Seol-i, and why are you climbing on top of—hic…”
A startled little hiccup, and then Hwa-eun backed out of the thicket with a face so scarlet she looked as if she had been poisoned by something that turned the skin bright red. She stared at me blankly and said,
“W-We’re going to be a-a grandfather and g-grandmother soon.”