I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

Ivan calmly put away the panel and gave the nun a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Sister. May God bless you."

The middle-aged nun nodded lovingly, her gaze gentle and kind.

Ivan turned and left the stall, his mind racing.

He had a basic understanding of what Hill said: that man is the foundation of the extraordinary.

Looking at the compassionate nun, at the sallow faces of those queuing for medicine, and at the unknown symbol engraved on the bottom of the bottle, Evan was certain of one thing.

This hides an unspeakable conspiracy.

How could such a large number of ordinary people be given drugs containing supernatural properties?

Or is it the kind of thing that gradually makes people lose their sense of pain and slowly turns their bodies bronze?

What are they experimenting with?

What do they want to turn these poor people into?

Evan sighed inwardly, then his gaze returned to the black medicine bottle in his hand.

"But it must be said that the dosage of products from church workshops is really strong."

"This pain reliever is much stronger than aspirin."

After consuming the copper pill, not only did the abdominal cramps caused by the demon-hunting trait subside significantly, but the dull pain from the two bruises on his back was also greatly reduced.

It felt like an invisible shackle had been removed from my body, and I could breathe easily.

"For an ordinary person, eating this is like committing slow suicide, but I have a control panel that allows me to monitor my physical condition in real time."

"Eating a little bit is fine; it can even improve your pain tolerance."

"Come back more often to get more freebies."

Ryan, who was next to her, also took the medicine.

His reaction was much stronger than Ivan's.

Less than a minute after swallowing the pill, he felt as if he had been pulled out of the water, gasping for breath.

An unnatural flush appeared on her sallow face.

"God Father, I feel so much better now!"

His voice trembled, not from pain, but from excitement.

For someone already struggling on the brink of death, even temporary relief from pain feels like a miracle.

The nun looked at him with a smile, her tone gentle yet firm.

"Your condition cannot be cured by medication alone."

"If you have time, you can visit our church on East Reston Street."

"We have many medical options that can help you."

Finally seeing hope, Ryan burst into tears, his knees buckled and he almost knelt down, expressing his gratitude with fervor and fervor.

He rambled on, thanking God, the nuns, and his mother all at once.

Ivan stood to the side without saying a word.

With current medical technology, there is no medicine that can cure Ryan's illness.

As for surgery? In this era before penicillin was invented, and when stopping bleeding relied entirely on compression and hot irons.

The survival rate for liver and gallbladder surgery is only about 30%, and the price is so high that ordinary people can't even dream of it.

All Ryan could grasp was this bottle of copper pills.

This bottle of copper pills will make his death more comfortable.

The two left the nun's stall and stood at the top of the stairs.

"Arkham, how are you feeling?" Ryan's spirits had clearly improved, and his voice had regained some strength.

Ivan smiled and said, "It really doesn't hurt as much anymore."

"Where do you plan to go next?"

Ivan sighed. "Keep looking for drug testing jobs. What about you?"

Ryan's eyes dimmed for a moment, but quickly brightened again.

"I can't do it anymore. I'm planning to find some light handicrafts, like sewing buttons or making cardboard boxes."

He gripped the small black medicine bottle tightly in his hand, a fragile yet stubborn fire burning in his eyes.

"With the church's help, I think I will be able to get through this difficult time."

He lowered his head, his voice becoming very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

"I'm going to earn some money to buy Lisa a birthday present."

"Then I'll buy my mother a new pair of glasses. Her old pair has a crack, and she's just using tape to keep them together."

Ivan hummed in agreement.

"Good luck, Ryan."

The two separated at the top of the stairs.

Ryan walked out, his steps lighter than when he came, his back thin and frail, and he quickly disappeared into the crowded throng.

Ivan turned and walked into the staircase, going upstairs.

The stairwell on the third floor was filled with all sorts of old chairs and benches, where all kinds of people sat waiting.

There were homeless people dressed in rags, huddled in a corner dozing off, their bodies reeking of alcohol and the sour smell of not having bathed for a long time.

There were students like Ivan, nervously clutching their appointment slips.

Some dockworkers rolled up their sleeves, revealing their thick forearms, waiting to sell their blood for a few coins.

Not many of them come to see a doctor.

Most of them came to sell their blood.

Ivan walked to the main entrance on the third floor and pushed the door open to go inside.

The hall was packed with people.

The renovation was far from good; large patches of paint had peeled off the walls, revealing the gray bricks underneath.

Dark green mold was crawling in the corner of the wall, and there was a water stain on the ceiling that looked like a distorted human face.

The ground was covered with scratches and stains, and the rubber tubing used for drawing blood was blackened and hardened.

Some were hung on iron hooks on the wall, while others were simply tossed onto the control panel.

It's more like a blood-drawing factory than a clinic.

Ivan walked to the front desk and said to the nurse, "Nurse, I made an appointment with Dr. Yuri last week. Are there any opportunities for drug trials?"

The nurse at the front desk was in her early thirties, with a face full of freckles and a muscular build like a dockworker; her arms were thicker than Evan's thighs.

Without looking up, she flipped through the greasy register in front of her, her finger tracing the names down the list.

"Fourth floor, room number two."

Ivan went up the stairs to the fourth floor.

It was much quieter here than on the third floor, and the smell of disinfectant in the air was stronger.

The walls of the corridor were painted white, and although they had turned yellow, at least there were no mold spots.

The floor is made of wood and is fairly clean.

The lobby directly in front faces three offices, with a corridor extending to each side, and a total of six wards with twenty-four beds.

Ivan knocked on the door of room number two and went inside.

Then he paused for a moment.

There are already four people in the room.

Two men and two women, aged between twenty and thirty.

You can roughly tell their identities from their clothing: the two men are low-level workers, and their clothes still have factory oil stains and a fishy smell.

The two women were heavily made up and had very low necklines; they were clearly in the sex trade.

One of the men, Evan knew.

Kerry.

The foreman from Bryce Transport Company.

Kaili looked much more haggard after just a few days.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were dry, cracked, and peeling.

But his attire was the most presentable among them:

He wore a grey jacket that was about 70% new, a pair of fairly crisp dress pants, and a brand-new baseball cap.

The brim of the hat was pulled low, as if to cover something.

Evan noticed a few red spots on his neck and cheeks, the color and distribution of which he recognized all too well.

When Carey saw Ivan walk in, he froze for a moment, then instinctively lowered his head, the brim of his baseball cap obscuring most of his face.

That kind of embarrassment couldn't be hidden.

A supervisor who once spat at Ivan now sits in the same drug trial ward as him, waiting to exchange his body for a few dollars.

Ivan didn't look at him much, turning his gaze to the person behind the desk.

A middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat, gold-rimmed glasses, and a white face mask had his hair neatly combed and his nails trimmed.

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

Dr. Yuri. The owner of this clinic.

"Arkham, you're very lucky to have come," Yuri said, standing up with a smile.

Ivan was taken aback: "A new job?"

Yuri nodded, picked up a document from the table, and handed it to him.

"Perfect for you."

"You probably already know about the news regarding the release of the Magic Bullet, right?"

606. Arsvanamin. Magic Bullet.

This name has appeared frequently in the medical sections of newspapers in recent months.

The only drug in this era that can truly kill Treponema pallidum has just been launched this year.

The newspapers touted it as a gift from God to mankind, but the price was also at God's level.

The cost of a full course of treatment ranges from one hundred to three hundred dollars, depending on the severity of the condition and the doctor's conscience.

For people at the bottom of society, this is an astronomical figure that is beyond their reach.

Even if a dockworker didn't eat or drink, he couldn't save enough money in half a year.

All five people in the room looked up at the same time, and Kerry was so excited that he stood up from his chair.

Yuri waved his hand, gesturing for everyone to sit down.

"You don't need to try drugs that are already on the market. This trial is for a new drug of the same type."

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone shifting to a professional and steady one.

"This is the screening phase, where we need to confirm whether you can initially tolerate this new drug. The process is very simple."

"Take it orally twice a day for two days."

"Food and lodging are provided. No blood tests are required. You only need to verbally describe your physical condition, and I will check your body once a day."

"Guaranteed 100% symptom relief. There may be serious side effects. Compensation: one dollar per day."

"The experiment will take place at my clinic. You cannot leave the ward for two days. If you quit halfway, you will not receive any compensation and your medication will be discontinued."

He glanced around at the five faces in the room.

"Are you willing?"

The five people acted almost without hesitation.

willing.

One dollar a day, including food and lodging, and it can even cure syphilis.

This is not a question that needs to be considered by anyone here.