The tall, bare-chested man sat before the Doctor. The Doctor studied his imaging results, rattled off a long list of technical terms, and then handed him an examination report.
When Paul walked out of the consulting room, the manager waiting outside was already growing impatient. "You don't understand medicine anyway, so what was the point of listening to all that? Don't worry. Since we promised you, we'll treat you. When are you planning to kill Tompkins?"
"Tomorrow." Paul swallowed and said, "But I haven't been feeling well lately. You need to treat me first, or I can't guarantee nothing will go wrong."
The manager looked even more impatient. Still, he said, "Fine. Go back to your ward and wait. I'll go ask."
Paul said nothing and returned to his ward with the examination results. Once there, however, he opened the report and studied it carefully.
He truly could not understand most of the technical data, but he could compare it with the data of the other people he had obtained from Tompkins. Then he discovered that his results were astonishingly similar to theirs.
The same type of cancer, the same development pattern, the same rate of deterioration—even the shapes in the imaging results were nearly identical. Naturally occurring tumors could not possibly be this similar.
Paul slowly closed his eyes. The string in his heart tightened further and further.
Then, when the manager handed him several red pills, that string finally snapped.
"Here. This is a miracle drug. Once you take it, your cancer won't worsen anymore. Hurry up and swallow it, then get to work!"
The manager tossed the pills to Paul.
The instant he turned to leave, a longsword pierced straight through his body. Blood sprayed everywhere as a tall figure descended like a shadow.
Paul smiled as