After drying himself, Evan stood in his bedroom and called up his Attribute Panel.
[Profession: None] [Slots: None] [Characteristics: Basic Sanguine 8%; Demon Hunter (digesting)] [Physique: 1.903 → 1.915] [Spirit: 1.004 → 1.025] [Spirit Vision: 0] [Talent: Power of the Nine Dragons] [Regeneration: 108% → 124%] [Blood Quality: 104% → 116%] [Syphilis: 46% → 48%] [Pneumonia: 6%] [Liver Damage: 41%] [Digestive tract ulcer: 8%] [Brain nerve damage: 13%]
Everything was improving steadily.
His Physique, Spirit, Regeneration, and Blood Quality had all risen.
But one number caught his eye.
"Damn. The syphilis got worse."
Forty-six percent had become forty-eight.
While every other indicator had improved, the syphilis had worsened.
"An Overall Physique of 1.915 means roughly a thirty-five percent increase in strength and endurance combined, but only about a twenty percent increase in immunity."
"The number still isn't high enough. My immune system can't keep the syphilis in check yet."
Evan glanced down at his crotch and checked carefully. He found no warts.
"That's good, but I need to deal with it soon."
After his shower, he twisted around in front of the cracked Washroom mirror to look at his back.
Two raised, purplish-red marks stretched beneath his shoulder blades, like snakes lying under his skin. Dark purple bruising edged them.
On closer inspection, though, the swellings were slightly lower than they had been a few hours ago, and their color had faded a little.
"My Regeneration has already started working."
As he left the Washroom and passed through the hall, he saw that the spare bedroom door stood open.
The room was empty.
The bedsheet was gone, along with the pillow. A few empty bottles Mary hadn't taken and a torn stocking lay scattered on the floor.
There was no sharp smell of smoke, no cheap perfume, no irritating moans or muffled thuds of the bed frame striking the wall.
Just quiet.
Evan stood in the doorway for two seconds, then turned back to his bedroom.
He took two Phenobarbital tablets, and the familiar reversal notifications appeared on the Panel.
[Your memory has improved. Spirit permanently +0.001.] [Your reaction speed has improved. Spirit permanently +0.001.]
Sleepiness washed over him like a tide.
He climbed onto the iron bed and pulled up the blanket. The instant his head hit the pillow, he lost consciousness.
At three in the morning, Evan opened his eyes on time.
The gate of concentration dropped into place, and the world became clear and quiet.
But the cramping in his stomach woke with him.
The digestion of the Demon Hunter Characteristic had spread from his stomach to his intestines. It felt as though someone had stuffed a ball of barbed wire into his abdomen, and every movement of his bowels was torture.
"Ji-ni!~"
With the spring's strange squeal ringing out, Evan gritted his teeth, sat up, grabbed the Aspirin bottle, and tipped it into his palm.
Three white tablets rolled out. He saw that only eleven remained inside.
He tossed the three tablets into his mouth and swallowed them dry.
[You have reversed the Side Effects of Aspirin.] [Your digestive function has improved. Physique permanently +0.001.] [Your hearing has improved. Physique permanently +0.001.]
"Study first. The money crisis has eased for now. Today's main goal is getting medicine."
He sat at the desk, opened his textbook, and set his Fountain Pen racing across the page.
After four hours of efficient study, the first gray-white light of morning seeped through a gap in the curtains.
Evan put down his pen and began planning his Saturday.
"First, go to Yuri Clinic and look for work testing drugs."
"Then check Byron Company's drug-testing site and see if I can get some free Aspirin and other medicine."
With his plan settled, Evan pulled on a gray shirt and a patched jacket. Just as he was about to leave, a violent cramp twisted up from deep in his abdomen.
He grabbed the doorframe and doubled over, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead.
"This Magic Potion really hurts. Three tablets aren't enough anymore."
The six Aspirin tablets he had taken last night had kept him relatively comfortable for eight hours.
Today he had taken only three. His four hours of focused study had barely ended before the pain returned, deeper than before.
It spread from his stomach through his intestines, as though someone were slowly wringing a wet towel inside his abdomen.
He took another three tablets and reversed their Side Effects.
[Your digestive function has improved. Physique permanently +0.001.] [Your hearing has improved. Physique permanently +0.001.]
He slipped the Aspirin bottle, now more than half empty, into his jacket pocket and went out.
By seven, Gooding Street was bustling.
Dockworkers' steel-toed boots thudded against the cobblestones. Newsboys shouted the day's headlines, while freight wagons struggled to pass each other on the narrow street, their wheels splashing muddy water from between the stones.
The air held its usual blend of smells: horse manure, coal smoke, fried fish, and cheap tobacco.
As usual, Evan turned into the Lucky Bee restaurant and spent sixteen cents on a hearty breakfast.
Two sausages, a large piece of brown bread, a glass of milk, a tomato, and a cup of black coffee.
His body needed fuel, and digesting the Demon Hunter Characteristic required plenty of nourishment. He couldn't skimp on this.
After eating, he headed west through the noisy crowd.
The intersection of Gooding Street and Miley Street was one of the few relatively respectable spots in this rough-and-tumble neighborhood.
A renovated four-story row-house apartment building stood on the corner. The brown brickwork had been repointed, the window frames painted white, and an Electric Light had even been installed above the entrance.
It was currently the only building on Gooding Street with electricity. Among the dingy old buildings around it, where people still burned Kerosene Lamps, it stood out sharply.
That was also why its ground and second floors housed a few relatively respectable businesses.
A clinic, a law office, a labor agency, and a little shop selling secondhand typewriters.
Yuri Clinic occupied the third and fourth floors.
It was also where Evan had sold blood and contracted syphilis.
The crowd thickened near the stairs.
All kinds of people packed the narrow passageway like ingredients in a pot of stew simmering slowly.
Middlemen held up handwritten signs recruiting blood sellers and drug-testing volunteers. The lettering was crooked, and the ink had not yet dried.
Pale-faced patients with purple lips leaned against the wall, pleading feebly for something.
A few shifty-looking men wove through the crowd, their eyes fixed on other people's pockets.
There were also several Nuns in spotless white robes, utterly out of place amid the gray, noisy crowd.
Their robes were so clean they seemed never to have passed through Gooding Street's air. Pale gold crosses were embroidered on their collars and cuffs.
Each wore a matching Copper Badge on her chest, engraved with a dove spreading its wings and holding a cup beneath its claws.
They belonged to the Healing Church.
Beside the stairs, they had set up a simple folding table. An open wooden case stood on it, with rows of small, dark medicine bottles arranged neatly inside.
The leader was a Nun in her forties, dignified and compassionate, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and thin, resolute lips.
Her voice was steady and carried well, clearly audible over the crowd.
"Turn to the Heavenly Father and enjoy good health."
"The Healing Church distributes free medicine to treat bilious disease, edema, swollen liver, and other illnesses."
"May the Heavenly Father heal us all."
Two young Nuns stood beside her, heads lowered as they reverently arranged the bottles in the case with gentle hands.
A short line had formed at the table, but not many people were waiting.
For somewhere giving things away free, such a sparse turnout was unusual.
Those in line had one thing in common: their faces had an odd waxy yellow cast, the whites of their eyes were yellowish, and their abdomens were swollen to varying degrees. Some even had to support their bellies with both hands to stay upright.
They plainly suffered from various liver diseases.
"The Healing Church. Liver disease."
Evan's gaze darted between the medicine bottles and the forty-one percent Liver Damage displayed on his Panel.
"Let's try it and see what the Healing Church is really handing out."
He walked to the back of the line. As soon as he stopped, a voice came from behind him.
"Arkham?"
Evan turned.
A tall young man stood there, swaying like a reed bent by the wind.
"Lane?"
Jack Lane.
He was the lanky fellow who, while running on the Sports Ground a few days ago, had suddenly stopped and bent over dry-heaving.
Both were freshmen at Sage University, and they had met during a drug trial.
Evan lived on Gooding Street, while Lane lived on Miley Street. They had run into each other a few times on the Streetcar and knew each other well enough to exchange nods.