At the afternoon memorization class, Evan was flawless as ever.
He answered every question put to him without hesitation and could recite chemical equations backward.
Even Instructor Wright glanced at him a few extra times. Behind his metal-framed glasses, his gray eyes held a hint of approval that was hard to read.
Morales sat behind Evan, barely paying attention throughout the class.
His gray-blue eyes, half-hidden beneath his side-parted hair, kept studying Evan's back.
"His posture looks normal, whether he's sitting or walking."
Morales observed him silently.
"He doesn't look like someone who's been used."
Ever since he was little, Morales had possessed a curiosity and focus rare among his peers.
That gift had let him study his way into Sage University with almost no urging from his parents.
But today, none of that focus went toward his books. It was all on Evan.
Evan had changed too much over the past few days.
So much that Morales couldn't explain it by any ordinary logic.
He had to find an answer, or the cat clawing at the walls of his mind would never stop.
After the class came PE, as reliably as ever.
Evan stepped onto the coal-slag track and drew in a deep breath of cold air.
Since his Physique had passed two, his lung capacity had multiplied several times over compared with a week ago.
This track had once been the place he feared most.
Every run had ended with him vomiting, his lungs feeling as though someone had stuffed them with red-hot coals.
But now...
Evan stood at the starting line with only one thought in mind.
Avoid its edge?
I'll trample it flat.
The starting whistle blew. He broke into a run, his boots crunching lightly over the coal slag.
While the others were still adjusting their breathing, he had attention to spare for the students around him.
Most of those who chose running were students from poor backgrounds.
Baseball required a proper bat and glove. Boxing meant paying for a venue and a sparring partner. Rowing was out of the question—that was for rich kids.
Only running needed no equipment or rules. Just a pair of legs that worked.
Most of the students running with Evan looked unwell.
Sallow or pale faces, bluish lips, and deep-purple bags under their eyes.
One look told him they were taking medication.
He spotted Lane in the crowd.
Lane looked much better than he had the last time Evan saw him.
A hint of color had returned to his sallow face. His stride was still unsteady, but at least he no longer looked as if a breeze could knock him over.
The Copper Pill's pain relief and blood-boosting effects are that strong?
Evan made a mental note.
Judging by appearances, the Copper Pill did more to improve a patient's condition than actual medicine.
But he knew it merely pushed death back a few weeks. In exchange, people from the lower classes became more obedient, more optimistic, and more devout before they died.
Just what he would expect from the Healing Church.
The run soon ended.
Everyone else sprawled across the wooden benches beside the track, panting as their chests heaved.
Only Evan remained standing. His breathing had quickened slightly, but his face showed no fatigue.
He sat at the end of a bench and pulled his Pocket Watch from his jacket to check the time.
Just then, a rhythm of footsteps came from the entrance on the north side of the Sports Ground.
A group of around twenty female students ran in, their strides uniform and light.
In this era, any girl who could enter Sage University came from money or status.
Even for running, they wore finely tailored athletic outfits.
Pale blue, cream, soft pink—every shade was gentle.
Their hair was tied back with ribbons or pinned in place with clips.
Their makeup was light, and even as running warmed their cheeks, it only lent them a healthy blush.
Each of them carried an elegance and reserve that seemed to come from within.
Even in vigorous exercise, they moved as though dancing a waltz at a slightly faster tempo.
The poor students on the benches, in worn jackets, patched trousers, and Leather Shoes with split soles, stared open-mouthed.
These swans were beyond their reach for life.
As the girls ran past and a breeze sweet with floral perfume swept over them, several of the boys puffed out their chests and took deep breaths of the mid-November cold.
"They smell amazing."
A Round-Faced Student beside him closed his eyes and sighed.
Lane came over and sat beside Evan, leaning against the backrest as he caught his breath.
"How are you feeling?"
Evan nodded. "Good. It doesn't hurt as much."
Lane broke into a grin. Against his still-sallow face, it looked especially contented.
"Same here. I've never felt better."
He lowered his voice.
"I even told a few classmates where to get the medicine. People like us have it hard enough. We should help each other when we can."
Evan murmured in acknowledgment but didn't argue.
He knew the Copper Pill was a slow poison. He also knew that, for people like Lane, it was the only lifeline they could grasp.
Trying to stop them would accomplish nothing. It would only make them think he had no sympathy.
After what had happened to Lebon, the school's unspoken rule to ignore Evan seemed to have quietly fallen apart.
Today, the poorer students even nodded to him first. A few of the braver ones came over to talk.
Evan merely nodded back and said little.
The distance between him and these people had grown far wider than it had been a week ago.
But he had no intention of showing it.
Several students nearby began complaining under their breath.
"Do we really have to take this medicine? I feel like I'll turn into an idiot if I keep taking it."
"The school checks. They draw blood every few days, too."
"What if just one of us takes it each time? They can tell the rest of us about the side effects afterward. We could take turns."
"You think they wouldn't find out?"
Evan listened to their complaints, and his eyes suddenly lit up.
If you don't want yours, give it to me.
The thought had barely occurred to him, and he hadn't yet worked out how to ask, when his ears caught an unusual sound.
Ragged, stifled panting.
Not the kind that came after a run.
It was something more primal, more wrong—like a caged beast bracing itself to slam into the iron bars.
Evan's pupils widened slightly.
He whipped his head around.
The girls were just passing the boys on their second lap, less than ten meters away.
The fragrance was stronger now.
Three meters to Evan's side, a thin, pale student was slowly rising from the bench.
Evan recognized his face.
Gilbert. He was one of the students testing the medicine.
Gilbert's breathing grew harsher, his chest pumping like a bellows.
His eyes had taken on an unnatural dark-red hue. They weren't bloodshot; the color seemed to be seeping out from within his irises.
A powerful stench of blood slammed into Evan's nostrils.
It wasn't coming from the ground. It was coming from Gilbert.
Rich and fresh, with a warmth like heated steel.
"Do you smell anything?" Evan asked the people beside him in a low voice.
Lane shook his head, bewildered.
A skinny young man named John grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth.
"What else would it be? Those rich girls' perfume."
Evan's brow furrowed sharply.
The smell of blood is this strong, and none of them can smell it?
"Hey! Gilbert! What are you doing?"
John had noticed their classmate standing up and called out to him.
The next second...
Gilbert's body moved as though something had ignited inside it.
He lunged wildly toward the flank of the girls' group.
He was far faster than a sickly, skinny man had any right to be.
Coal slag sprayed beneath his feet as he shot forward, almost skimming the ground. None of the seated boys even had time to react.
The girls were even less prepared.
In their world, poor boys like these barely dared to look at them. They could never have imagined one would leap at them.
"Aah!"
A piercing scream shattered across the Sports Ground like breaking glass.
The entire running formation fell apart. Pale athletic skirts scattered in the sunlight.
Evan moved.
He didn't even think. His body reacted first.
Two steps forward, a third to close the gap. The strength of his two-point Physique made him a beat faster than Gilbert.
Gilbert's right hand had sharpened, its nails lengthening into claws. Just as it was about to tear into a blonde girl's shoulder, Evan grabbed him by the shoulder with his left hand.
"Aah!"
The girl shrieked, her voice cracking.
Evan ignored her and kept his grip on Gilbert's shoulder.
An inexplicable instinct rose from deep in his spine, directing his muscles through a move that was both impressively smooth and practiced.
Use his momentum. Turn. Lower the waist. Throw.
Gilbert's skinny body flipped over Evan's shoulder in a textbook throw and slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of coal slag.
But he wasn't out of the fight.
Low, animalistic growls came from his throat—sounds no human throat should have been able to make.
Muscles bulged beneath his skin at a visible rate, some inner force swelling his gaunt frame.
Evan narrowed his eyes and leaned closer.
The two canine teeth in Gilbert's upper jaw were slowly growing longer and sharper.
Is this... a chain reaction of Side Effects from the Night Demon Potion and the Blood Potion?
Evan immediately thought of the Basic Sanguine Beyonder Characteristic on his Panel.
He hadn't mutated because his Panel reversed Side Effects.
But the other test subjects had no such miracle. The Chain Reaction between the two Magic Potions tore and twisted their bodies until they became some kind of half-formed monster.
Gilbert thrashed violently beneath him.
That strength couldn't possibly belong to a frail, sickly student.
His nails gouged deep furrows through the coal slag, and his body writhed like a crocodile rolling madly over and over.
"Someone help! Help! Another poor person's gone mad!"
The young ladies scattered, screaming in terror.
The word "another" made Evan's heart sink.
Apparently, this had happened more times than he knew.
As Gilbert struggled fiercely, memories Evan had never learned yet knew intimately surged into his mind.
They were like the soft whispers of the old Demon Hunter in a tricorn hat, speaking beside a campfire.
"Incomplete Bloodthirsty Beast."
"Its weak point is the bulge on the side of its throat, called the Bloodthirst Sac."
"It constantly stimulates the host's nerves, driving them into a bloodthirsty state."
"Destroying the Bloodthirst Sac can temporarily break the Bloodthirsty Beast's urge to attack."
"But the Bloodthirst Sac will regenerate after about two hours."