When it came down to it, everything in this world cared about what others thought of it, or was affected by their evaluations. The only difference was what kind of evaluation they cared about.
A restaurateur hoped people would say his food was delicious. A driver hoped people would praise his skill. A dancer hoped people would compliment their figure. A singer hoped people would say their voice was wonderful. A crosstalk performer hoped their peers would die... Well... you get the idea. Everyone wanted others to say they were good.
Drug sellers were naturally no exception, but there were generally only two evaluations they cared about. First, that the medicine was real. Second, that it truly had good effects. Everything else was irrelevant.
"Their mouths are on their own faces. They can say whatever they want. If they want to boycott our company's business, that's actually very easy to deal with..." Moira shook her head and said disdainfully. "As long as, when they fall ill and are close to death, they discover that only our company's medicine can cure them, and they would rather choose death than use our medicine, then their boycott can be considered a success."
In short, it came down to one sentence: your life is yours, the medicine is mine. Take it or leave it!
It was that simple. When people were healthy, they would not buy such medicine in the first place. Let them boycott it if they wanted. They could even say the drugs reeked of the deaths of innocents, because no matter how much they said, they were merely being generous with other people's suffering.
Only when they fell ill and stood at death's door would their resolve be tested. When they suffered under the torment of disease, barely clinging to life