Checking the Anchor, Hill's Bustling Tavern

Once the commotion died down, the students gradually returned to their dormitories.

Morales, Saddam, and the others were medical students, after all. They lived in the main part of Building 1.

The students living near Evan were mostly from the bottom rung.

Lane was one of them, as was John.

A group of poor students in neat uniforms had gathered in the clean hallway.

John, his face gray and his expression vacant, muttered under his breath.

"What kind of monster could scare someone that badly?"

"Think the Byron Group is behind it?"

"Are those damn rich people trying to experiment on us again!?"

As he spoke, John's vacant face twisted with anger.

"They make us live in this dump, then spend the day soaking us in the sea!"

"Those damn animals!!"

Like Evan, John was a poor student who had signed a drug-trial contract.

Over the past few months, John had taken all kinds of drugs, and his health had deteriorated by the day.

Fortunately, poor students like them had Lane's help.

The Church's medicines had kept their bodies going.

But their condition made it clear that their bodies were gradually changing, and their emotions were growing unstable.

Lane hurriedly patted John's shoulder. "Calm down! Getting angry won't solve anything!"

An ordinary student nearby, who had not taken the drugs and came from a reasonably comfortable family, frowned. "What are you talking about!?"

"Professor Byron has been considerate and generous enough. You ate so much at lunch!"

"You were praising him then, and now you're turning on him!?"

"You really are a stray dog!"

The other ordinary students chimed in. "Exactly! Throwing accusations around without a shred of proof—who do you think you are!?"

Even among the poorer students, there were divisions.

The poorest had signed drug-trial contracts and were