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

He found an empty table in the corner and sat down. There were no people at the three tables around him, and the area within a two-meter radius was his private territory.

He set the plate down and first picked up the glass of milk and took a sip.

The milk was warm, with a faint goaty smell and a slight sweetness.

As the liquid slid down his esophagus, he could almost feel his body greedily absorbing every gram of protein, every drop of fat, and every milligram of calcium.

The feeling was wonderful, like parched earth receiving its first spring rain, with every cell opening its mouth.

He spread butter on the black bread, ate a bite of bread and a sip of bean soup, eating with focused concentration and quiet.

The tomato was eaten last. The moment he bit into it, the sweet and sour juice exploded in his mouth, and the fresh taste made his brows relax involuntarily.

Just as Evan was enjoying his meal, the chair opposite him was pulled away.

The scent of a high-end men's fragrance arrived before I did, a blend of sandalwood and bergamot that clashed with the cheap butter smell in the cafeteria.

A slender figure sat down and gently placed the plate on the table, his movements precise and restrained, without making any unnecessary noise.

He was wearing a dark, oversized hooded trench coat, the hood pulled low, covering most of his face.

Underneath the trench coat was a well-tailored pure cotton shirt, and over that was a black wool vest, with a section of a silver pocket watch chain peeking out of the vest's pocket.

The belt was made of pure cowhide, and the brass buckle was polished to a shine.

Needless to say, the luster of leather shoes cannot be achieved by shoe polish alone; it comes from the inherent quality of the leather itself.

He took off his hood, revealing a head of meticulously styled, gray hair combed back neatly.

Black-rimmed glasses sat on a thin, pale face, behind which were a pair of light blue eyes, so pale they were almost transparent, making them quite unique.

Ivan's biology teacher.

The person who gave him the Night Demon Potion: Professor Pulis, a handsome gentleman who looks to be in his early fifties.

It is said that he suffered a serious injury when he was young, and since then his body has required medication to maintain its health, and his skin has become unable to be exposed to sunlight.

So he always wore that hooded trench coat, drew the curtains tightly when lecturing, and always kept the laboratory lights at their dimmest.

The students called him "Bat" in private, but of course no one dared to say it to his face.

"Did you take your medicine?"

There were no pleasantries, no preamble.

His voice was deep and indifferent, as if he were verifying experimental data.

Ivan put down the bread in his hand and nodded: "I ate it, teacher."

Priss sized him up.

Those light blue eyes narrowed slightly behind the glasses, their gaze sweeping from Ivan's face to his neck, and then to his wrist, which was peeking out from under his sleeve.

Like an invisible scalpel, it peels back his skin layer by layer to see what's inside.

"He seems to be in good condition."

Ivan's expression brightened: "Teacher, after I ate it yesterday, I immediately felt stronger."

He subconsciously lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly: "Thank you, Professor."

Pulis gave a curt "hmm," picked up the fork from his plate, cut off a small piece of fried fish, and put it in his mouth with elegance and composure.

What are the side effects?

Evan thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words: "A wave of dizziness, then low blood sugar, and then my muscles felt a little swollen."

Other than that, I didn't feel anything else.

Pulis paused for a moment while chewing, then continued.

He nodded.

"Okay. Keep eating, once a day, for four days."

Ivan hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice, his tone tentative and cautious: "Teacher, are there any other medications?"

He looked into Priss's eyes, trying to appear sincere and eager: "I'm willing to fully cooperate with your experiments as long as it makes me healthier."

He paused after speaking, then added, his tone carrying a deliberately feigned awkwardness:

"After taking the medicine you gave me, I felt much better for most of the day and more confident."

I don't even really care what other people think of me anymore.

Chapter 7: Experiments to Overcome Sunlight

Priss put down his fork.

The corners of his mouth curled up in an extremely subtle arc, so small as to be almost negligible.

That's the kind of satisfaction that comes from when an experimenter observes interesting data.

"Aren't you afraid of dying?" His voice remained calm.

"Experimental drugs are, after all, dangerous."

Ivan gave a bitter laugh, a laugh that contained just the right amount of bitterness and madness: "Professor, in my current state, if I don't give it my all, I'm probably doomed to never get ahead."

Of course, Priss knew about Evan's syphilis.

The whole school knew. He was silent for a few seconds, his gaze behind his glasses seeming to be making some kind of calculation.

"Come to my lab before your afternoon lab class."

The two then quietly finished their lunch.

Pris ate very little; he barely touched most of his plate of food, but he finished his milk.

As he got up to leave, Ivan noticed that his gait was peculiar; his steps were so light they were almost silent, and the soles of his shoes seemed to have never truly touched the ground.

Seeing the soft white bread, sausages, and grilled fish, Evan simply took Pris's plate.

Amidst the snickers and strange looks from the surrounding students, he packed it up to take away, intending to eat it that evening.

After all, this dish would cost at least 20 cents at a restaurant!

At 1:10 p.m. sharp, Evan arrived at Teaching Building No. 2.

The stairwell was filled with the smell of lime and old wood. His leather shoes clattered on the marble steps as he climbed up.

I was slightly out of breath when I got to the fourth floor, but it was much better than yesterday when I had to lean against the wall after climbing just a few steps.

Pris's laboratory was at the end of the corridor.

A heavy oak door, with no nameplate, only a brass room number.

Dim light shone through the crack in the door.

Ivan knocked twice on the door, and a brief "Come in" came from inside.

He pushed open the door and went inside.

The laboratory is about 100 square meters, much more spacious than a regular classroom.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the overhead light was turned down to its dimmest setting, casting an amber glow over the entire space.

Along one wall are tall wooden storage cabinets, with handwritten Latin labels on the doors, and through the glass doors you can see the densely packed bottles and jars inside.

Some contained liquids, some contained powders, and several large glass jars contained some kind of unidentifiable dark substance, floating in formalin.

There was a complex smell in the air: alcohol, herbs, metal, and something deeper, an indescribable sweet-smelling odor.

Priss stood behind a long laboratory table, his gray hair gleaming silver in the dim light.

He heard footsteps, but without looking up, he picked up a small black glass bottle from the table and held it out to Evan.

"Take one pill at a time, once a day, for four consecutive days. Remember, the two medications work better when taken together."

Evan took the bottle and weighed it in his palm.

The bottle was slightly larger than yesterday's, and it also had no label. The stopper was sealed with black wax.

He couldn't help but ask, "Teacher, what's the purpose of this?"

Priss finally raised his head, his glasses reflecting the dim light of the overhead lamp, obscuring the expression in his eyes.

"It helps you become stronger faster by supplementing your previous health medications."

He paused for a moment, then added, "However, the effects of this medicine require a combination of adequate nutrition and high-intensity exercise."

Otherwise you'll find the heat unbearable.

Ivan gripped the medicine bottle tightly, his face revealing undisguised excitement.

To Priss, that kind of excitement was probably the expression of a desperate student grasping at a last straw.

"understand!"

Pulis nodded slightly, thus concluding this brief handover.

Evan carefully tucked the medicine bottle into the inside pocket of his jacket, close to his chest, then turned and left the lab.

His footsteps faded into the distance in the corridor.

After the oak door closed, the laboratory was quiet for a few seconds.

Then, a figure silently emerged from behind a row of lockers against the wall.

She was an ordinary-looking young woman, wearing a white lab coat, with her dark brown hair tied in a simple bun at the back of her head.

Her face was so plain that you wouldn't give a second glance to anyone you grabbed on the street, but she walked in the same way as Pris, so light that she made no sound.

“Master.” Her voice was low and flat, without any emotional fluctuation.

"If an ordinary person takes the Night Demon Potion and the Blood Potion together, they will probably die of anemia."

Even if they don't die, there's a high probability they'll mutate into a mutilated, bloodthirsty demon.

She paused, then continued cautiously, "This is a bit risky. If those people at the University of Michigan find out, they might cause you trouble."

Pulis did not turn around.

He stood in front of the lab bench, stirring a dark red liquid in a beaker with a glass rod, his movements slow and focused.

“His side effects are less than I expected.” His voice was very soft.