I'm a Proper Student, I Only Take Nine Types of Potion

In this shabby clinic, he was the only one who looked like a real doctor.

Doctor Yuri. The owner of this clinic.

"Arkham, you came at a lucky time." Yuri stood and smiled.

Evan froze. "New work?"

Yuri nodded and picked up a document from the desk, handing it over.

"It suits you very well."

"You've heard about the Magic Bullet going on the market, right?"

606. Arsphenamine. The magic bullet.

That name had appeared frequently in the medical pages of newspapers over the past few months.

The only drug of this era capable of truly killing Treponema pallidum had just entered the market this year.

The newspapers praised it as a gift from God to mankind, but its price was godlike as well.

A full course of treatment cost between one hundred and three hundred dollars, depending on the severity of the illness and the doctor's conscience.

To the people at the bottom of society, that was an astronomical sum beyond reach.

A dockworker could toil without eating or drinking for half a year and still fail to save enough.

The five people in the room raised their heads at once. Carey was so excited that he stood straight up from his chair.

Yuri waved a hand, signaling everyone to sit.

"You won't be testing the drug that's already on the market. This trial is for a new drug of the same kind."

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone turning professionally calm.

"We're currently in the screening stage. We need to confirm whether you can initially tolerate this new drug. The process is simple."

"Two days. Take it orally twice a day."

"Meals and lodging are provided. No blood draws. You only need to report your physical condition and let me examine you once a day."

"I guarantee a one hundred percent reduction in symptoms. There may be relatively severe side effects. The pay is one dollar per day."

"The experiment will take place in my clinic. You cannot leave the ward during those two days. If you withdraw midway, you will receive no payment, and the medication will be stopped."

He swept his gaze across the five faces in the room.

"Are you willing?"

The five of them barely hesitated.

They were.

One dollar a day, with food and lodging included, and treatment for syphilis.

For everyone present, it was not a question that required thought.

Is This Blood or Medicine!?

Yuri took a stack of contracts from the drawer and handed them out.

"Then sign the contracts."

Evan accepted the contract but did not sign immediately.

He first looked at the symbol printed at the top of the contract.

A circle containing an equilateral triangle, with a flame burning at the triangle's center.

The flame's lines were simple and sharp, as though drawn in a single stroke.

Beneath the symbol was a line of small print: Red King Laboratory.

"The perfect Red King."

Evan silently repeated the name to himself.

In alchemical tradition, the Red King was another name for the Philosopher's Stone, representing the final stage of the Great Work: reddening.

Just from the name, he could tell it was definitely a major player.

He hesitated no longer. Picking up the dip pen on the table, he signed his name at the bottom of the contract.

The process that followed was uneventful.

The five changed into the gray-white hospital gowns provided by the clinic and were assigned to separate wards.

Evan's room was at the end of the corridor. Four iron-framed beds stood against the walls, and he was the only occupant.

The sheets had been washed stiff and pale, and the pillow was as thin as a pancake, but at least they were clean.

The door was locked from the outside to prevent any accidents.

After they were settled in, Doctor Yuri gave Evan and the others a full set of basic examinations.

Consultation, pulse measurement, blood pressure testing, checking the location and size of every rash and needle mark on their skin, drawing a tube of blood, and collecting a bottle of urine.

Yuri's movements were skilled and professional. His gaze behind those gold-rimmed glasses was calm and focused, completely unlike the rough style of the blood-drawing factory on the third floor.

Once everything was finished, at exactly nine in the morning, Evan took his first dose.

The pill was not small, about the size of a pinky fingernail. It was gray, rough-surfaced, and odorless.

He placed the pill on his tongue, picked up the cup of warm water from the bedside table, tipped back his head, and swallowed it.

[You have taken the Three-Stage B Virus. Duration: Permanent.]

[Effect: Devours Treponema pallidum and concentrates its toxicity; your body's flexibility has increased.]

Evan's heart jolted.

"B Virus? It devours syphilis and concentrates toxicity?"

How was this treatment?

It was like putting a snake into the body to eat the rats, except the snake itself was more dangerous than the rats.

[Would you like to reverse the side effects?]

"Reverse!"

[Reversal progress: 2 hours.]

Immediately afterward, another line of red warning text suddenly appeared on the panel.

[Warning! Drug chain reaction detected.]

[Copper Pill and Three-Stage B Virus have formed an unknown fusion! Would you like to reverse the side effects?]

Evan stared at the words, his pupils widening slightly.

Then he smiled.

"Well, damn. No wonder the nun was handing out Copper Pills downstairs at Yuri Clinic."

"Could the Healing Church have discovered Red King Laboratory's plan?"

"Otherwise, this is just too much of a coincidence."

The Copper Pill's Copperization properties and the B Virus's devouring properties had triggered a chain reaction.

Two drugs from different forces had unexpectedly collided inside his body.

One gave out medicine for free downstairs, while the other paid people to test medicine upstairs.

One belonged to the Healing Church, and one belonged to Red King Laboratory.

Two threads had converged in the same building.

Whether it was an accidental coincidence or someone's deliberate arrangement, he did not know.

After Evan ordered the reversal, the panel immediately gave a new prompt.

[Reversal progress: 5 hours.]

He put the medicine bottle back on the bedside table and leaned back. The thin mattress gave a soft creak against the iron frame.

"Then let me see what tricks you two can come up with."

He closed his eyes and pretended to rest.

Meanwhile, in Yuri Clinic's laboratory.

Doctor Yuri respectfully held a wooden tray. Five test tubes were neatly arranged on it.

Each contained a dark-red blood sample, with a number written on the tube wall in crayon.

He placed the tray on the workbench, standing as though he were a servant before his master.

A young man sat on a high stool opposite the workbench.

He looked around twenty-four or twenty-five, with a lean build.

He wore a carefully tailored dark-gray suit, with a black bow tie fastened impeccably beneath his shirt collar.

His golden hair was combed neatly back, sleek and glossy.

His facial features were sharply defined and his nose high, but the corners of his mouth habitually drooped, giving him an aloof, arrogant impatience.

Pierson. Red King Laboratory's supervisor stationed at Yuri Clinic.

He said nothing. Extending a finger clad in a white glove, he picked up the first test tube from the tray.

The glove was made of lambskin, with fine stitching.

He lifted the test tube, which bore Carey's name.

He examined the color and fluidity of the blood beneath the incandescent light, then pulled out the cork, drew out a drop with a long, thin glass pipette, and placed it on the tip of his tongue.

He closed his eyes.

Savoring it.

Like a sommelier appraising the vintage of an aged wine.

Three seconds later, he opened his eyes.

"Mid-to-late-stage syphilis. The condition is ideal, the blood is pure, and there is no contaminant pollution. He can proceed to the second-stage experiment."

Yuri immediately scribbled notes into the notebook beside him, his fountain pen scratching across the paper.

Pierson set down the first test tube and picked up the second, which belonged to a prostitute.

The same sequence: inspect it under the light, draw a sample, taste it, close his eyes, and judge.

"Late-stage syphilis. Extremely high spirochete density. The host's organs are close to failure. She can serve as a cultivation mother."

"Find an excuse and send her to Saint Mary's Sanatorium in the suburbs."

A trace of fear flashed through Yuri's eyes. His pen paused on the paper for a moment, but he quickly resumed writing steadily.

"Understood." His voice was very low.

Pierson put down the second test tube and picked up the third.

Written on this one in crayon was "Arkham."

As usual, he examined it under the light, pulled out the cork, drew a drop, and brought it to his tongue.

He closed his eyes.

His expression.

Froze.

"Ptooey!!!"

The next second, the young man who had just been savoring the blood so elegantly suddenly bent forward as though someone had stuffed a lump of shit into his mouth.

He sprayed the blood from his tongue out along with a mouthful of saliva, splattering it across the workbench as dark-red stains rapidly spread over the surface.

"Damn it!"

His face twisted instantly. His handsome features crumpled together as he stuck out his tongue and flailed it wildly through the air, as if trying to fling away the taste.

"Is this human blood? Why is it full of such high concentrations of medicinal compounds?"