Yuri took a stack of contracts from a drawer and handed them out.
"Then sign the contracts."
Evan took his copy but did not rush to sign it.
He first looked at the emblem at the top.
A circle enclosed an equilateral triangle, with a flame burning at its center.
The flame's lines were simple and sharp, as though drawn in a single stroke.
Beneath the emblem, a line of small print read: Red King Laboratory.
"The perfect Red King."
Evan repeated the name silently.
In alchemical tradition, the Red King was another name for the Philosopher's Stone. It represented the final stage of the Great Work: rubedo.
The name alone told him this was no minor operation.
He hesitated no longer. Picking up the dip pen on the table, he signed his name at the bottom of the contract.
The rest of the process passed without incident.
The five of them changed into gray-white patient gowns provided by the clinic and were assigned separate rooms.
Evan's room was at the end of the corridor. Four iron-frame beds stood against the walls, but he had the room to himself.
The sheets had been washed until they were faded and stiff, and the pillow was as thin as a pancake. At least everything was clean.
The door was locked from the outside to prevent any accidents.
Once they had settled in, Doctor Yuri gave Evan and the others a complete basic examination.
He asked questions, checked their pulses and blood pressure, examined the location and size of every rash and needle mark, drew a vial of blood, and collected a bottle of urine.
Yuri moved with practiced professionalism. His gaze behind the wire-rimmed glasses was calm and focused, nothing like the rough manner of the blood-drawing factory on the Third Floor.
When it was all done, Evan took his first dose of medicine at exactly nine in the morning.
The pill was fairly large, about the size of his little fingernail. It was gray, rough to the touch, and odorless.
He placed it on his tongue, picked up the cup of warm water from the bedside table, tilted back his head, and swallowed.
[You have taken the Three-Stage B Virus. Duration: Permanent.] [Effects: Devours Treponema pallidum and concentrates toxicity; your body's adaptability has increased.]
Evan's heart gave a violent thump.
B Virus? Devours syphilis and concentrates toxicity?
This was not treating a disease.
This was putting a snake inside his body to eat the rats, except the snake was even more dangerous.
[Reverse the side effects?]
Reverse them!
[Reversal Progress: 2 hours.]
Immediately afterward, a line of red warning text appeared on the panel.
[Warning! Drug interaction detected.] [The Copper Pill and Three-Stage B Virus have formed an unknown fusion! Reverse the side effects?]
Evan stared at the words, his pupils widening slightly.
Then he smiled.
Well, well. No wonder the nuns were handing out Copper Pills downstairs from Yuri Clinic.
Had the Healing Church discovered Red King Laboratory's plans?
Otherwise, this is too much of a coincidence.
The Copper Pill's copperization characteristic had reacted with the B Virus's devouring property.
Two drugs from different factions had collided inside his body by chance.
One side gave out free medicine downstairs; the other paid people to test medicine upstairs.
One belonged to the Healing Church, the other to Red King Laboratory.
The two threads met in the same building.
This was no coincidence.
It was a covert struggle between two supernatural factions.
Once Evan ordered the reversal, the panel immediately displayed a new message.
[Reversal Progress: 5 hours.]
He put the medicine bottle back on the bedside table and leaned back. The thin mattress creaked against the iron frame.
Let's see what the two of you come up with.
He closed his eyes and pretended to rest.
Meanwhile, in Yuri Clinic's laboratory...
Doctor Yuri held a wooden tray with a deferential expression. Five test tubes stood neatly arranged on it.
Each held a sample of dark-red blood, with a number written in crayon on the glass.
He set the tray on the workbench and stood like a servant before his master.
A young man sat on a high stool across the workbench.
He looked about twenty-four or twenty-five and had a slender build.
He wore a finely tailored dark-gray suit, with a black bow tie fastened meticulously at his shirt collar.
His golden hair was combed straight back, sleek and glossy.
His face was sharply defined and his nose high-bridged, but the habitual downward turn of his mouth gave him an air of cold, haughty impatience.
Pierson. The supervisor Red King Laboratory had stationed at Yuri Clinic.
Without a word, he reached out with a white-gloved hand and picked up the first test tube.
The glove was made of lambskin, with fine stitching.
His nails were neatly rounded and clean, even polished.
The tube bore Carey's name.
He held it up to the incandescent light to inspect the blood's color and flow, then pulled out the cork, drew a drop into a slender glass pipette, and placed it on the tip of his tongue.
He closed his eyes.
He savored it.
He looked like a sommelier identifying the vintage of an aged wine.
Three seconds later, he opened his eyes.
"Mid-to-late-stage syphilis. Just the right condition. The blood is pure, with no contamination. He can proceed to the Second Stage of the experiment."
Yuri immediately scribbled in a notebook beside him, his fountain pen scratching across the paper.
Pierson set down the first tube and picked up the second. It belonged to a prostitute.
He repeated the same steps: hold it to the light, draw a drop, taste it, close his eyes, and judge.
"Late-stage syphilis. The spirochete density is extremely high, and the host's organs are close to failure. She can serve as a breeding host."
"Find an excuse to send her to Saint Mary's Sanatorium on the outskirts."
Fear flickered in Yuri's eyes. His pen paused on the page, but he quickly resumed writing.
"Understood," he said quietly.
Pierson set down the second tube and picked up the third.
"Arkham" was written on it in crayon.
As before, he held it to the light, pulled out the cork, drew a drop, and touched it to his tongue.
He closed his eyes.
His expression
froze.
"Ptooey!"
The next instant, the young man who had been savoring his samples so elegantly doubled over as though someone had shoved a lump of shit into his mouth.
He spat out the blood along with a mouthful of saliva. It splashed across the workbench, and a dark-red stain spread rapidly over the surface.
"Damn it!"
His face twisted, his handsome features scrunching together. He stuck out his tongue and flailed it through the air as though he could shake off the taste.
"Is this even human blood? Why is it full of high-concentration drug compounds?"
He glared up at Yuri, his eyes burning with indignation.
"Whose blood is this?"
Yuri took a frightened half-step back. He had worked beside Pierson for nearly a year and had never seen the young man lose his composure like this.
Even when tasting the pus-tinged urine of a patient with late-stage syphilis, Pierson had only frowned.
"Arkham, Mr. Pierson," Yuri said cautiously.
"The young university student. One of the syphilis cases we deliberately produced in bulk two months ago, on your orders."
At the name "Arkham," Pierson's frown deepened.
"Arkham."
He repeated the surname under his breath, as though chewing a sour fruit.
"What an unlucky surname."
He clenched his teeth, his expression growing uglier.
The lingering taste on his tongue kept unfolding. Through his supernatural taste, the impossibly complex mixture spread into a pattern that made his scalp crawl.
"What drugs has this fellow been taking these past few days?"
His voice held an irritation bordering on despair.
"The taste of Sanguine blood. The stench of the Demon Hunters. And the taste of a Healing Church dungeon!"
Yuri's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly.
He was only an ordinary man.
But as a servant on the fringes of Red King Laboratory, he knew a little about the supernatural world, especially how the various factions divided up territory and influence in Bolton City.
The Sanguines. The Demon Hunters. The Healing Church.
Yuri would not dare provoke any one of them.
Yet traces of all three were present in a poor student's blood.
Pierson's complexion worsened.
Pinching his nose with one hand, he felt around the workbench with the other, grabbed a bottle of water, and gulped down a large mouthful.
"Ugh."
His supernaturally modified senses of smell and taste magnified the strange blend of supernatural substances without limit, battering his mind and senses.
His tongue felt less like a tongue than a rag soaked in sewage.
"Damn it. He even took the Copper Pills those nuns were giving out downstairs."
He forced the words through gritted teeth, his voice strained by the urge to retch.
"Is his head full of shit? Does he swallow every drug he sees?"
He rinsed his mouth several times, spitting each mouthful hard into the Enamel Basin beside him.
He kept dry-heaving between rinses, his shoulders jerking. His refined bearing had fallen apart completely.
After the sixth rinse, Pierson finally managed to suppress the last of the strange taste.
He spat out the water and straightened. His face was pale, and fine beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.
"I knew it."
He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice tight with anger.
"Those nuns have been handing out Copper Pills downstairs lately. I knew they were up to no good."
He turned to Evan's file on the workbench.
He had barely scanned two lines when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him.
He swayed and braced a hand against the edge of the workbench, barely steadying himself.
Pierson raised a hand to his forehead.
Then his pupils dilated sharply.
He had been poisoned.
All because he had tasted two drops of that poor student's blood.
He, a Beyonder of the Treant Pathway, had actually been poisoned.
The dizziness was slight, but it was unmistakably poison!
Leaning against the workbench, he slowly steadied his breathing and pulled the file toward him.
Sage University. Chemistry Department.
Signatory to a Financial Aid Agreement.
His gaze swept over the name "Pulis" and stopped.
"Sage University."
His voice had regained some composure, though his breathing was still weak.
"I remember the Batrus Family has vampires there."
He turned the page and kept reading.
"Looks like this fellow has been taking plenty of those vampires' Magic Potions at school."
He paused and shook his head, as though confirming that what he had just seen was real.
"But he's still alive? And he even looks healthy? What the hell."
Yuri stood to one side, hardly daring to breathe.
Pierson remained silent for several seconds, then slowly straightened. The dizziness was gone.
His supernatural constitution had quickly neutralized the tiny dose of supernatural toxicity.
"Let's watch him for two days and see what happens."
His voice turned cold.
"If he doesn't show the changes we expect in the next two days, send him away."
He paused, then added,
"Don't say anything more. Just tell him he failed the screening and doesn't meet the requirements for the Second Stage experiment."
Yuri lowered his head. "Understood."