The burlap sack weighed about forty pounds. It was filled with tobacco leaves, and a rich, fermented, spicy smell seeped through the coarse weave.
The sack settled on his shoulder. His knees bent slightly, but he steadied himself.
The experienced burly men beside him could carry three sacks at once. With more than a hundred pounds on their shoulders, they still strode along briskly, their boots thudding against the wooden dock.
Evan carried his sack of tobacco leaves about thirty meters with the crew, brought it into the warehouse, and stacked it in the designated spot.
"Where did you come from? One sack at a time? You think this is a charity?"
A shrill voice cut in from the side.
Evan turned and saw a long-faced, skinny foreman standing there with his hands on his hips. Spittle flew from his mouth, and he looked as though he had stepped in something filthy.
He wore a gray jacket slightly smarter than the ordinary workers' clothes, with a red band around his sleeve marking his position. A pencil for recording hours was clenched in his hand, its tip jabbing toward Evan.
Evan did not get angry.
He smiled, humble and tactful. It was a skill he had learned during his years in sales on Earth.
"Sorry, sir. I'm new here and still getting the hang of it."
"How about this? I'll make sure I meet my quota. After the other workers leave, I'll stay and work longer. Would that be all right?"
The foreman looked Evan up and down.
Fair skin, a scrawny build. One glance told him the kid was not cut out for this work.
He was about to say more when Parker came up from behind. The tobacco in his pipe had gone out, but he kept it between his teeth out of habit.
"Easy, Carey, easy." Parker patted the foreman's shoulder. His tone was casual, but it carried the weight of a crew boss.
"This is Anta's son. A top student at Sage University."
He paused, then added, "You might need a favor from him one day."
At the words "Sage University," understanding flashed in Carey's eyes.
Someone who could get into a school like that would become a doctor or a lawyer. Either way, he was not someone to cross.
The nastiness left his face. He grunted. "Fine. If you don't meet your quota, work longer to make up for it. Don't make things difficult for us."
These low-level supervisors did not rank high, but they had plenty of room to maneuver.
One pencil, one ledger. Whether a worker gained or lost an hour depended entirely on which way that pencil tip leaned.
Evan smiled, nodded his thanks, and ran back to the dock to grab another sack.
It was not easy work.
Carry a forty-pound sack on his shoulder, walk thirty meters there and back, set it down, run back, pick up another, and walk again.
Over and over.
The wooden dock thudded beneath his feet. Sea wind blew in from the harbor, chilling his sweat.
Around him were grown men three times his size. Their shouts and curses mingled with the dull thumps of sacks hitting the ground in one noisy jumble.
But thanks to the boost from the two Magic Potions, Evan could clearly feel something incredible.
Every trip made his body a little stronger.
It was not like the vague changes from before, the kind that took days to notice.
This was real growth he could feel with every trip.
The weight on his shoulders grew lighter. His legs grew stronger. His breathing steadied.
Two hours later, a notification suddenly appeared on the Panel.
[Physique +0.2] [Further improvement in health detected. Mental energy has recovered naturally.] [Mental energy +0.2]
Taking the two Magic Potions together made them digest faster.
His Physique was 0.903, and his mental energy was 1.002.
He was about on par with a normal person now.
So Evan began carrying two sacks at a time.
Eighty pounds pressed down on his shoulders. His back bent, but it did not buckle.
He gritted his teeth and started walking. His boots struck the dock with twice the force they had before.
Time slipped by as he worked.
Evan gradually found his rhythm. He still could not carry three or four sacks at once like the veteran workers under Parker.
But he was moving back and forth noticeably faster.
With two sacks of tobacco leaves on his shoulders, he covered the thirty meters at almost a jog. When he put them down, he even had enough strength left to stack them neatly.
Carey stood at the warehouse entrance with his pencil tucked behind his ear, watching Evan run in and out. At some point, the nasty look had left his face.
In its place was a confusion he could not quite put into words.
Two hours ago, the kid had struggled with one sack. Now he was running with two faster than the old hands?
Evan worked a total of four hours at the dock.
For those four hours, he was like a machine wound tight, barely stopping.
He took only two short breaks, five minutes each. He crouched against the warehouse wall, gulped down some cold water, caught his breath, and went back to carrying sacks.
His body was growing stronger so quickly that it burned through energy at an astonishing rate.
Professor Pulis's leftovers, which he had eaten for dinner, were long gone.
His stomach felt like a bottomless pit, protesting without pause.
On his first break, he ran to an all-night food cart by the dock and spent eight cents on a big chunk of dark bread, a large bowl of mixed-bean soup, and a sausage.
It was the cheapest kind of sausage. The casing was coarse, and he had no idea what meat was inside. When he bit into it, his mouth filled with the taste of fat and garlic powder.
But he wolfed it down, then used his finger to wipe the last bread crumbs from the bottom of his enamel bowl and licked it clean.
His body needed fuel. He could not afford to care how it tasted.
At ten that night.
Evan had just stacked two sacks of tobacco leaves in the warehouse when a notification suddenly appeared on the Panel.
[Blood Potion Side Effect reversal complete] [Your anemia has improved significantly! 30% → 5%] [Your Regeneration has permanently increased by 2%] [Your Blood Quality has permanently increased by 1%]
[You have reversed the Side Effect of the Night Demon Potion.] [Your anemia has fully healed, and your Blood Quality has permanently increased by 1%] [Your Regeneration has permanently increased by 2%]
The change came fast and hit hard.
It was as though someone had lit a lamp inside his skull. The fog that had clouded his mind for so long vanished at once.
His vision turned sharp and clear. The ringing in his ears disappeared completely. Even the noisy voices on the dock became distinct.
His body felt utterly transformed.
Solid strength filled his limbs. The dull ache and cramps that had plagued his abdomen for who knew how long were gone, replaced by a warm, relaxed feeling of fullness.
His appetite grew even stronger.
He felt as though he could eat three more bowls of bean soup.
"The anemia's gone, but what does Blood Quality mean?"
He opened the details.
[Blood Quality: Your blood can carry more nutrients and vitality.]
"Heh, now that's interesting. Blood can get stronger too."
He gave it no more thought and ran back to the dock to carry more sacks.
In the end, Evan worked an hour longer than the other workers.
When the big dockside clock struck eleven, he finally set down the last sack and straightened up.
Parker was waiting by the warehouse entrance, a few coins in his hand.
"Four hours on the clock. Thirty-two cents."
The crew boss handed him the money. Evan took it, the coins clinking in his palm.
Thirty-two cents was not much, but he had earned it with his own strength. Every cent felt solid and real.
Parker handed over the money but did not leave right away.
Pipe between his teeth, he looked the young man up and down with undisguised puzzlement.
The Evan who had arrived four hours ago had been as thin as a pole, with a grayish face. A single forty-pound sack of tobacco leaves had made him stagger.
The Evan standing before him now was drenched in foul-smelling sweat, but his face glowed with health.
His shoulders strained the seams of his canvas shirt, and the lines of muscle were just visible on his forearms.
"Well, kid, how come you look a size bigger than when you got here? Your color's better too."
Evan laughed. "Exercise is the key to a long life, Uncle Parker."
Parker pursed his lips, took the pipe from his mouth, and tapped the ash against the sole of his boot.
"Then I ought to live forever."
He waved a hand. "Be careful on your way home. Don't catch a chill."
Evan put on his jacket, pulled the collar tight, and pushed through the warehouse side door into the night.
It was early November, and the temperature had fallen to around four degrees Celsius.
His sweat-soaked canvas shirt and denim overalls clung to him. When the cold wind hit, they turned stiff, like a layer of icy sheet metal.
With every step, the rigid fabric rubbed against his skin, cold and rough.
Fortunately, the Blood Wine Enhancement from the Blood Potion was still in effect.
Evan broke into a run, his boots thudding on the cobblestones.
In less than a minute, heat began radiating from his body. He warmed up, and a fresh, thin layer of sweat even formed on his back.
At night, the streetlamps cast dim yellow light over the empty cobblestones of Hain Street and Gooding Street. Buildings loomed dark on either side like two rows of gravestones.
But those gravestones were not quiet.
Behind one window came a drunk's broken howling, half song and half sob.
Gang members yelled deep in an alley, punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.
A stray dog crouched beside a garbage heap, barking into the dark in sharp, frantic bursts.
At a third-floor window of one building, a woman cursed her child in English with an Irish accent. Halfway through, she suddenly began to cry.
That was Gooding Street's nocturne.
It played every night without fail.
Evan walked briskly, humming a tuneless little melody.
Back at his apartment building, he picked up his repaired leather shoes from outside Old Tom's shop. At last, the two heels were the same height.
He tucked the shoes under his arm, went upstairs, and took out his key to open the door.
He had barely pushed it open a crack when a smell rushed out.
It was no longer just the scent of Mary's cheap perfume. There was another, murkier stink mixed with lingering smoke.
Strange moans and a man's slurred curses came from Mary's room. Their uneven rhythm was punctuated by the dull thud of a bedframe hitting the wall.
Evan's brows knotted, and cold disgust flashed in his eyes.
Soon, you stinking bitch.
He swallowed the words without making a sound.
He took off his sweat-soaked, stiff work clothes and draped them over the back of a chair to dry.
Once the sweat on his body had cooled a little, he took an old towel into the washroom.
There were no water heaters in those days.
The fact that every apartment in this building had a private bathroom was rare enough. Most apartment buildings had a communal bathhouse downstairs with a line that never seemed to end.
He turned on the tap. The pipes coughed twice, then spat out a stream of icy water.
Cold water poured over his skin, but he did not even feel cold.
The Blood Potion was still working.
It felt as though an undying fire burned inside him.
"Blood Potion really is good stuff."