The television screen flickered with a cold white glow as the news anchor reported the latest update in a steady yet slightly excited tone—
"RPD Pharmaceuticals is developing a ground-breaking new anti-cancer drug—S-12."
The screen switched to an earlier press conference, where a spokesperson in a suit stood under the glaring stage lights, facing countless cameras and flashes. His voice echoed through the spacious venue.
"S-12 is a revolutionary drug meticulously developed by RPD Pharmaceuticals to combat cancer. During animal testing, the results were remarkable—the cancer cells significantly shrank, and in some cases, even disappeared entirely, while the side effects were almost negligible."
A murmur spread through the audience as reporters hastily jotted down the astonishing news. The screen then cut back to the anchor, who continued:
"This could become a major milestone in the history of cancer treatment. However, RPD Pharmaceuticals has stated that S-12 has now entered its final phase of development and requires human trials to collect further data. They have officially begun recruitment, seeking volunteers who meet the criteria..."
The television's flickering light cast shifting shadows across the dimly lit restaurant, reflecting faintly on the glass window—an obscure omen quietly brewing.
I chewed on my noodles, frowning slightly, then took a spoonful of soup and swallowed it down. The warm liquid slid past my tongue, carrying a subtle saltiness and the lingering trace of oil. I grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped the corner of my mouth.
"The texture of the handmade noodles is decent... too bad the broth isn't made from fresh ingredients." I thought, as a faint artificial seasoning taste lingered on my tongue.
"Bill, please!" I looked up and called out to the waiter standing at the cashier, his eyes fixated on the television screen.
But he didn't respond, still engrossed in the broadcast, seemingly forgetting his job entirely.
"I heard that RPD Pharmaceuticals isn't just recruiting cancer patients for the trial—they're allowing even healthy individuals to participate. And they're offering payment too!" the waiter suddenly spoke, though not to me, but to his colleague beside him.
"Tch, you actually believe what those big pharma companies say? No drug comes without side effects, let alone something for cancer! You might not die after taking it, but you'll probably go completely bald, hahaha!" The other waiter clapped him on the shoulder, his tone laced with mockery.
Annoyed, I waved my hand to signal that I was done eating. That finally caught their attention. After hurriedly settling the bill, I got up and left the restaurant.
"Does it come with payment...?"
As I walked along the road home, I replayed the conversation in my mind. A cold wind blew from the street corner, carrying the dampness of the night. Under the streetlights, my elongated shadow flickered unsteadily.
For most people, this news might just be a casual topic of conversation, but for someone like me—just graduated and utterly lost—it could be an opportunity to escape reality.
Three months before graduation, I had already started sending out job applications. At first, I was filled with hope, but now, three months after graduation with no offers, the frustration was suffocating. My savings were running out, and my life had fallen into uncertainty. My friends had moved on, stepping into promising careers and beginning new chapters of their lives, while I remained stagnant, standing alone in the same place.
When I reached my apartment door, I pulled the key from my pocket and slid it into the lock. With a soft "click," the door swung open.
On the floor, an envelope lay quietly by the entrance, as if waiting to be discovered.
"Is it a job offer?"
A faint hope rose in my chest as I picked up the envelope, my fingertips trembling slightly. I quickly tore it open.
But what met my eyes were cold, impersonal words—a rent collection notice from my landlord.
I let out a helpless sigh, shook my head, crumpled the letter into a ball, and tossed it onto the table. Frustration spread through my chest. Trying to distract myself, I walked into my room and turned on my computer.
Driven by curiosity about S-12, I typed "RPD Pharmaceuticals" into the browser and clicked on their official website. Sure enough, they were publicly recruiting volunteers for human trials—the final stage of S-12's research.
I scrolled down and carefully read through the application conditions:
Applicants must be adults. People of any health condition may apply. Participants must adhere to strict dietary restrictions and can only consume meals provided by the pharmaceutical company. The study will last for six months, during which participants must stay in the designated company dormitory with no freedom to come and go. Selected participants will receive a monthly payment of 60,000 dollars.
I stared at the terms, my brow furrowing unconsciously.
"No freedom to leave... isn't that basically like being in prison?"
Though the conditions were unsettling, the company was offering free room and board—plus a decent amount of money. It would solve all my immediate problems in one go.
"What reason do I have not to apply?"
Almost instinctively, I clicked on the application form, quickly filled in my personal details, and pressed "Submit."
However, I didn't hold much expectation. RPD Pharmaceuticals was one of the world's top pharmaceutical companies, and this recruitment must have attracted a massive number of applicants. There was no guarantee I would be selected.
—— Knock! Knock! Knock!
The urgent knocking jolted me awake from my sleep.
"Damn, who's knocking this early?"
Rubbing my drowsy eyes, I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand—11 AM. I yawned, stretched lazily, and sluggishly made my way to the door.
"Is it the mailman?"
Looking down, I saw several letters lying quietly by the door. I picked them up and casually flipped through them.
"Tch..."
Utility bills, a bank payment reminder, junk flyers... just a pile of annoying letters. I impatiently stuffed them into a drawer, leaving only the last one.
In the top left corner of the envelope, the letters "R.P.D" were printed.
I froze for a moment, my heartbeat unconsciously quickening. My gaze followed the words on the letter downward—
"Congratulations! You have been selected to participate in the final research phase of S-12."
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** Hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you again next Friday! Feel free to leave a comment! :D**