Dave's eyes widened in bewilderment.
"Three hundred thousand?"
"If you think it's too expensive, you don't have to take it," Ethan said calmly. "Either way, I won't be the one suffering a loss. But I should remind you—this medicine isn't a one-time consumable like Viagra. It treats the root cause."
Dave was stunned.
It treats the root cause?
"You're not lying to me, are you?"
Even as he voiced his doubts, he was already convinced. After taking the pill, he did feel different. Still, he pressed, hoping to bargain.
"Yes." Ethan nodded. "Think about it. Your back doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"
Dave froze for a second… then slowly nodded.
The pain was gone.
He suddenly stood up and began pacing back and forth across the ward, twice, as if weighing a critical decision. Then he stopped beside the bed.
"Deal."
Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and began transferring the money.
After confirming the payment, Ethan handed him the Rejuvenation Pill.
Dave left with a satisfied smile.
---
At noon, it was time for the routine check-up.
Doctor Grace pushed the door open and walked in, a medical record folder in her hand.
She stopped beside Ethan's bed, bent down slightly, and looked him up and down—as if examining a specimen.
A chill ran down Ethan's spine.
Not just because of her unusual gaze… but because of the distance.
It was too close—close enough for him to read the name tag pinned to her white coat, and close enough to catch the faint scent of disinfectant lingering on her.
"Ethan," she said, staring at him without blinking. "What diet have you been following these past few days?"
Ethan was momentarily stunned.
There was something different in her eyes.
This wasn't the composed, professional concern she showed during routine rounds. This was something deeper—an almost overwhelming curiosity… no, a thirst for knowledge.
"I'm your doctor," Grace said quietly. "I need to know."
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He turned his head away, avoiding her gaze, and looked out the window. The sunlight was blinding; he squinted.
"Grace," he said sincerely, "don't ask anymore. Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. I just ate whatever the hospital provided. Just… consider it a miracle and leave it at that."
"How do you know I won't believe you if you don't even tell me?" Grace pressed, her voice tinged with urgency.
Ethan turned back.
She was still leaning close.
Her brows were tightly knit. She bit her lip—just briefly—but he noticed.
"Tell me," she insisted, her voice no longer steady. "I'll believe you."
Ethan stared at her for a couple of seconds.
He almost laughed.
A mature woman in her thirties acting this flustered—it was already a rare sight. Paired with her otherwise composed demeanor, it felt almost surreal.
But he didn't laugh.
Instead, he lowered his gaze, adopting a troubled expression, as if genuinely hesitating.
"You…" he began, then looked back at her. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes," Grace said firmly, leaning in slightly. "You must tell me."
Ethan studied her—her tightly pressed lips, the intensity burning in her eyes.
Then he sighed.
"Well… it's actually very simple. Something you've probably experienced yourself. A daily occurrence among adults."
Grace rolled her eyes. "Can you be direct? I don't have time for word games."
Her breath hitched slightly as she spoke.
Ethan looked at her and said casually,
"It's just… having sex."
---
The room fell completely silent.
It was as if even the air had frozen.
Grace stared at him, stunned—her expression a mix of shock, disbelief… and a hint of embarrassment.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating her features.
After a few seconds, she straightened up, looked down, and opened her medical record folder, scribbling something inside with exaggerated care.
"Grace?" Ethan called out, incredulous. Is she seriously writing that down? Does she have a few screws loose?
She didn't respond. The tip of her pen tapped lightly against the folder as she continued.
"I'm recording your medical condition," she said flatly.
"You're holding the folder upside down," Ethan pointed out.
Grace paused.
She glanced down—and realized he was right.
The folder was upside down.
An awkward silence filled the room.
She snapped the folder shut, took a deep breath, and forced a professional smile—though it looked more like a strained twitch.
"Mr. Ethan," she began, trying to regain composure, "you're saying… having sex cured you. Am I correct?"
"Correct."
"…And who did you get intimate with?"
Ethan met her gaze.
"With beautiful women like you."
Grace's face flushed instantly.
Unable to endure the sudden emotional whiplash, she turned and fled the ward.
---
Ethan blinked, stunned.
Was that really necessary?
He hadn't said anything outrageous… had he?
They were adults, after all. It wasn't as if the topic was taboo.
Unless…
An absurd thought crossed his mind.
A 33-year-old virgin doctor?
That would be rarer than encountering a Pokémon.
He mentally asked the system, half-jokingly, "Can you detect that?"
To his surprise, a mechanical voice rang out in his mind:
[Ding!]
Name: Grace
Dating Experience: None
Combat Experience: None
Ethan froze.
That was… outrageous.
He hadn't expected odds like that in real life.
---
Just as he was still processing this revelation, the ward door opened again.
Grace stood at the doorway, her face still faintly flushed, though her expression had returned to something resembling professionalism—or at least, she hoped so.
"Ethan," she said, not stepping inside, her tone firm. "I'm transferring you to another ward."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Another ward?"
"Yes." She glanced at her folder—this time ensuring it was the right way up. "A private room. Quiet. More suitable for your condition."
"My condition?" Ethan chuckled. "What condition?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she turned and left.
---
Half an hour later, Ethan lay in his new room.
A private ward—complete with its own bathroom, a caregiver's bed, and a window facing south. Sunlight poured in, warming the sheets.
Ethan stared out the window, feeling unexpectedly content.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Rose.
[Boss! I sold that pill!]
[100,000! That rich woman didn't even blink before paying!]
[Boss, my cut is 10%, right? Right? Right?]
Ethan chuckled and typed: [Hmm.]
Even though her share was 10,000, he didn't mind.
The Rejuvenation Pill wasn't priced uniformly anyway. Give it to a 20-year-old, and they probably wouldn't even take it for free.
[Thank you, boss! Long live the boss! I love you, boss!]
[Boss, she said if it works, she wants 10 pills!]
Moments later, his account balance updated.
He glanced at the total: 393,008.23.
A smile crept onto his face.
This was the fastest—and easiest—money he had ever made.
---
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Grace stood there.
She had changed into casual clothes—clearly off duty.
It was the first time Ethan had seen her like this.
A simple white T-shirt, dark blue jeans, black flats. Without the white coat, her fair neck and delicate collarbone were visible. Her short hair framed her face softly.
"Doctor Grace?" Ethan blinked in surprise.
She remained at the doorway, hesitating.
Ethan's lips twitched. What, does she think I'll eat her if she comes in?
She pressed her lips together, gathering courage.
"Um…" she began, her voice softer than usual. "May I come in?"
"Of course," Ethan said, nodding.
She walked in and pulled up a chair.
When she sat down, her knees were pressed together, hands resting neatly on them, back perfectly straight.
Ethan almost laughed.
This posture—it didn't suit a 33-year-old doctor.
It was more like a young girl on her first date.
"Doctor Grace," he said, amused, "what's the matter?"