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

"Alright, shut your mouth."

The sound wasn't loud, but LeBon immediately fell silent.

A few minutes later, the office door was pushed open again.

The class tutor and the science supervisor walked in one after the other.

The class tutor was named Carls, in his early forties, from a middle-class background, and well-dressed.

The gray-blue suit was well-tailored, and gold-rimmed glasses sat on a straight nose.

He habitually pushes up his glasses with his index finger when he speaks, his demeanor exuding a carefully maintained elegance.

He was the kind of teacher who was very popular at parent-teacher meetings—gentle, polite, and always on the side of the "majority."

The cause and effect of the matter were quickly clarified.

Four people ganged up on Evan, humiliating him by covering his head with a blanket and pouring smoke into his mouth with a pipe.

Ivan fought back, injuring one person.

After listening, Karls glanced at the four students and showed a perfectly timed expression of disappointment.

It wasn't because of bullying, but because of embarrassing oneself.

Then he turned to Evan, his tone carrying a condescending dissatisfaction.

"Arkham, your behavior has gone too far."

Ivan did not refute.

He knew very well which side Karls was on.

LeBon's father was an importer in the East End, Thomson was a star rookie on the football team, and the other two also came from middle-class families.

And he, Evan Arkham, was a poor student in a patched jacket, a syphilis-ridden outcast.

On Karls's scales, the weights were unequal from the start.

He is waiting.

Waiting for the head tutor of science.

When the door was pushed open again, Professor Mons walked in.

The old gentleman was still the same: bald, wearing reading glasses, a white shirt buttoned up to the top, and a dark gray wool vest.

His gaze swept over everyone in the room from above his glasses, lingered on Evan for a second, and then landed on Kars's face.

“Karls”.

His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried weight.

"To be surrounded and attacked by four people and put up a heroic resistance, is that considered excessive behavior?"

Karls paused for a moment.

He hadn't expected Professor Mons to speak up for Evan.

In his mind, Mons was known for being strict and cold, treating all students equally harshly and never showing favoritism to anyone.

Mons didn't look at Karls again, but turned to the dean.

What do you think?

The dean of academic affairs was silent for a few seconds, then tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

He didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

If word gets out that four students ganged up on a classmate, covered his head with a blanket, and forced him to smoke, it would be a devastating blow to the school's reputation.

Parents will complain, newspapers will write about it, and the board of directors will intervene.

Both sides are at fault.

His voice was steady and formulaic, as if he were reading a pre-prepared verdict.

"Arkham, excessive self-defense, participating in a brawl. One written warning."

“Write an apology letter to the frightened female classmates. Pay LeBang two dollars in medical expenses.”

Two dollars. Ivan's eyelids twitched, but he didn't say anything.

Apart from the two dollars for medical expenses, everything else was under his control.

He was outnumbered and outgunned, and his only injury was a minor superficial wound.

The other three will only feel pain for a while; it's nothing serious.

After all, schools still need to maintain the prestige of being prestigious institutions.

They won't take any drastic measures against themselves.

"LeBon, Thomson, one written warning."

The dean's tone suddenly turned stern, and his gaze shot from behind his glasses to the four students standing on the right.

“Gathering a group to bully classmates seriously damages the reputation of our school and is a serious breach of discipline.”

"If you do it again, I will not let you off lightly."

And so, there was no real punishment.

Faced with such blatant favoritism, Ivan said nothing.

He knew very well who the school favored, and he also knew very well that he couldn't change the rules at the moment.

Two dollars for medical expenses, half of his savings, and five days' worth of food.

But he was willing to pay the money compared to being harassed by the school.

Do you approve of the school's handling of the matter?

The five people spoke almost simultaneously: "We agree."

The matter was thus resolved.

At least that's how it appears on the surface.

The group returned to their respective classrooms.

LeBang took leave early due to a problem with his pants.

As he walked briskly down the corridor with his head down, the gauze on his forehead and the water stains on his crotch were equally conspicuous.

Every student who passed by saw it, but no one laughed.

They were scared too.

Ivan followed Professor Mons on their way back to the classroom.

The corridor was long, and the sound of two people's leather shoes tapping on the marble floor came from one after the other, with different rhythms but the same direction.

Professor Mons only said one sentence from beginning to end.

Study hard.

Ivan nodded without saying anything more.

As soon as the classroom door opened, 39 pairs of eyes turned to look at us.

The classroom fell silent instantly.

The quiet was different from yesterday.

Yesterday it was whispered mockery; today it is breathless with awe.

Every pair of eyes conveyed the same thing: shock.

Ivan's old canvas backpack hung on his shoulder, the broken strap temporarily tied with a piece of rope, crooked and twisted.

There was a dark red bloodstain on the side of the backpack, already dried, standing out starkly against the gray canvas.

Under everyone's gaze, he walked to the corner of the last row, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He put his schoolbag on the table, took out his textbooks and stationery, and acted as calmly as if nothing had happened.

Professor Mons walked up to the podium, opened his lecture notes, and glanced at the entire class.

"Yesterday we learned about the application of heavy metal compounds in medicine."

He picked up the chalk and wrote two chemical formulas on the blackboard.

"Now, can any student tell me the chemical formula, valence, and solubility of calomel and mercuric chloride, and why the former can be taken internally while the latter is highly toxic and only used externally?"

Unlike his reserved demeanor yesterday, Evan didn't wait for others to fall silent today.

He immediately raised his hand.

"Professor, I know."

Mons nodded.

Ivan stood up, his voice clear and steady, without the slightest hesitation.

"Calmorrhoids are mercurous chloride, with the chemical formula HgCl. Mercury has a positive valence and is almost insoluble in water. It is mild in nature and was formerly used as a laxative and anthelmintic. It can also be taken orally in small doses."

"Mercuric chloride is mercuric chloride, with the chemical formula HgCl. Mercury is divalent and easily soluble in water. It ionizes to release a large number of Hg ions, which can strongly coagulate proteins and kill microorganisms. Therefore, it is highly toxic and can only be used as an external disinfectant and wound washing solution."

"The core difference between the two lies in their valence state and solubility."

Hg and Cl are difficult to ionize, and most of them are excreted unchanged after entering the digestive tract, resulting in low toxicity.

HgCl₂ is easily ionized, and the released mercury ions can directly damage body tissues, causing irreversible damage to the kidneys and digestive tract.

Professor Mons nodded in satisfaction.

"Very good. You understand it very well."

The morning classes were still spent in a busy atmosphere.

After chemistry came physics, and after physics came a biology class taught by Professor Price.

The vampire stood on the podium, his hooded trench coat replaced with a dark suit vest for indoor wear, and the curtains were, as usual, drawn tightly shut.

His voice was deep and calm as he lectured, at a pace that was neither too fast nor too slow. Occasionally, he would draw a precise anatomical diagram on the blackboard, so accurate it looked like a printed image.

There were no abnormalities.