A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 289: Symptoms (3)

“Trouble? Not at all! Rachel stays over for several days every time she visits too!”

Jessie winked playfully.

“This time, you two can stay together!”

After the wedding, we headed to David and Jessie’s house.

“Sean, this is your first time here, right?”

The two of them greeted us warmly and quickly showed us around the house. Of course, it didn’t take long. The place was barely the size of a palm. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and just a living room and kitchen.

“I’m worried it might be uncomfortable for you, Sean. Haha, the place is still not completely organized.”

“It’s cozy and nice.”

That’s what I said, but I wasn’t sure how sincere my smile looked. My gaze quickly landed on one side of the living room. A table cluttered with all kinds of papers. The sofa had barely enough space for two people to sit.

“At least the window is big.”

But Jessie quickly added that the house across the street was practically right in front of them, so they always had to keep the curtains closed. In other words, there was no real sunlight to expect.

“Not easy.”

Could I really endure a week in this environment? But the real problem lay elsewhere.

“There’s only one guest room…”

There were two guests, but only one room prepared. Of course, there was the master bedroom. But letting a guest into the couple’s most private space was out of the question.

“The bed’s a queen size, so can’t the two of you just share?”

Jessie winked mischievously, making Rachel flinch and ask again.

“T-Together?”

“What’s the problem? You’re just sleeping.”

That was definitely teasing. No matter how open the West might be, it was still weird for a man and a woman who weren’t lovers to share a bed.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

I said firmly, but Rachel quickly jumped in.

“No! I’m shorter, so I’ll take the sofa.”

“It’s fine. It’s only for a few days.”

But honestly, it wasn’t fine at all. Still, the thought of me taking the bed while Rachel slept on the couch didn’t sit right either, so I had no choice.

At that moment, Jessie shrugged and dropped a line.

“Just share the bed already.”

When I gave her a look of disbelief, she grinned and added.

“It’s not like you two will ever sleep at the same time anyway. You’ll be on alternating shifts.”

“...Oh!”

That’s right. Rachel and I couldn’t sleep at the same time. If, by chance, a Castleman patient had a seizure and the medical team urgently contacted us, one of us had to be awake at all times. That rule had been set after the Milo incident.

“Since Sean’s a night owl, Rachel can sleep first, and then he’ll take over.”

Jessie smirked playfully.

“What were you two thinking? You’re both so sneaky.”

“T-That’s not it…”

“All right then, let’s settle this. We don’t have much time.” 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

After that, Rachel and I quickly worked out the sleeping schedule. From 9 p.m. to 3 a.m., Rachel would use the bed, and from then until morning, it would be mine. Just like shift work, we’d take turns with the bed.

As soon as the decision was made, Jessie clapped her hands brightly.

“Then Rachel, go get ready for bed! David, we need to book right now! Sean, you’ll help us, right?”

And just like that, a whirlwind began. The couple had to leave for their honeymoon—completely unplanned—“right this instant.”

“Europe’s too far! If something happens, it’ll be a problem. Somewhere close!”

“How about Mexico? Like Cancún?”

“Perfect! I’ll find the hotel, you get the flights! Sean, please help! David’s terrible at this stuff!”

Normally, I would have suggested my private jet, but this time I couldn’t. That would have raised too many suspicions about my condition.

Anyway, after an hour. Despite it being peak winter vacation season, we miraculously secured both hotel and flights.

“Now we’ve got to pack! David, where’s your swimsuit?”

“In the storage room—oh wait! We need summer clothes too!”

“Hurry! If we don’t finish in an hour, we’ll miss the plane!”

The two of them stormed through the house like a typhoon, frantically throwing things into their bags.

“Sean, we’re counting on you!”

“Thank you so much! Take care of Rachel!”

They dragged their suitcases out the front door, slamming it shut behind them, and disappeared. The silence that followed felt even heavier after all the noise. My wandering eyes stopped at the guest room door. The fact that it was now just Rachel and me left in this house hit harder than ever.

“…Is this really okay?”

Honestly, it would be a lie to say it didn’t bother me. A whole week. Sharing this space with Rachel alone for that long…

“If I think of it normally, it’s just like having a roommate.”

I was used to roommates. Living in this country, sharing space with others was practically the default. Even during my college years, med school, and the early Goldman days, I always lived with others.

But. I always had one rule. A roommate had to be someone completely unrelated to me. Someone I could cut ties with at any time—walk away without hesitation if things got awkward.

But in that sense, Rachel didn’t fit at all. For one, I was already entangled with the Marquis family in many ways… And Rachel herself was a core figure in the Castleman Foundation, an indispensable part of the treatment’s development. No matter how I looked at it, this was not a bond I could easily walk away from. If anything, she was someone I had to be more careful around than anyone else, to make sure our relationship didn’t get strained in the slightest.

But then.

‘She’s a woman, too.’

From past experience, sharing a space with a woman had never ended well. Usually, things wouldn’t even last three days before she stormed off, red in the face. Of course, it was hard to compare Rachel to those cases.

‘Because that’s not the kind of relationship this is.’

We hadn’t spent the night together, so there was nothing either of us would expect emotionally. So unlike before, there wouldn’t be any emotional clashes that usually came with sharing a space with the opposite sex.

But. Even so, some strange possibilities kept circling in my head. What if. Even if it was unlikely, what if something unexpected happened? Of course, it was ridiculous. Something that must never happen.

‘Should I just move to a hotel right now?’

The thought flashed across my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to act on it. Part of it was that I didn’t want to risk triggering my symptoms by spending on hotel bills. But more than that, if I left now, it would be obvious I felt uncomfortable, and that might just make things more awkward between us.

‘Let’s just try staying one night. If it really doesn’t work, I can move later.’

***

As planned, Rachel and I switched at 3 a.m. She went out to the living room, and I lay down in the guest room bed at David’s house.

“Can I really sleep like this…?”

I’d always been sensitive about where I slept. And when you added in a stranger’s lingering warmth, faint scent, and the rough feel of cheap bedding, sleep seemed impossible.

But…

“…?”

For some reason, I slept deeply. A surprisingly restful sleep, even for me. However.

When I woke up, I felt an unpleasant dampness on my skin. When I checked, the sheets were soaked. So were my pajamas. I had sweated through them in my sleep.

That’s when a sickening sense of déjà vu hit me.

“…Is it starting again?”

Normally, my body temperature was low, and I barely ever sweat. Night sweats were extremely rare for me. But.

“In my previous life, I had nights like this too.”

Looking back, that was when my anxiety really began to surface.

“Is this another early sign?”

In my last life, I’d been fine, until around this time of year, when the anxiety worsened. That’s when I started visiting psychiatrists. Back then, I dismissed it as just stress. But in reality, it was the first signal that the ‘illness’ had begun.

“So it’s finally here.”

I had expected it, and I had prepared myself. But facing the reality of “onset” right in front of me, my body froze with cold fear. After showering to wash off the uneasy feeling, I stepped into the living room.

“Sean! Good morning!”

Rachel greeted me with a bright smile from the kitchen. She was in casual loungewear. Her wet hair dripped over her shoulders. It wasn’t anything strange, just an everyday sight—yet it felt too unguarded, and I found myself turning my eyes away.

Naturally, my gaze slid toward the mug on the table.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, that would be great.”

Rachel poured me a cup, and I downed it the moment I got it. The sweat I’d lost overnight left me unbearably thirsty. By the time I set the cup down, Rachel came over holding two plates.

“I made breakfast!”

On the plate was a perfectly cooked omelet, golden and neat. The smooth cut surface was pressed clean, and when the fork sank in, the moist inside glistened softly. Unnecessarily flawless.

“This is almost professional.”

“Omelets are my specialty! It’s one of the few things I can actually make… But don’t expect much else. I can’t even cook instant ramen properly…”

“Then I’ll make dinner.”

“If you do, I’ll be so grateful.”

She smiled, and I smiled back. But after that brief exchange of smiles, silence quickly filled the space. It felt strangely… awkward.

We had simply slept separately, woken up separately, washed separately, and now met at the table. There was no reason for it to be awkward. And yet, the room was too quiet. No—beyond quiet. It was oppressively clear.

Clink, clink.

Swish.

The sound of a coffee cup being set on the table. The scrape of a fork against a plate. Even the faint sound of Rachel brushing her hair behind her ear. Every noise pierced my ears with unnatural sharpness.

‘Is this another symptom?’

If so, it was something I hadn’t experienced in my previous life. Heightened sensitivity. That too, I would need to check with patients.

“The coffee’s good.”

I lifted the cup again, trying to start a conversation. Rachel, too, picked up her mug again.

“You’re right… I should ask what beans these are later.”

“…I thought David had no sense for food.”

“Exactly…”

The conversation flowed, but the tempo was off. Always a half-beat late. The air felt slightly warped. Rachel’s fingers slowly traced the handle of her mug.

“Thank you for the meal. I’ll do the dishes.”

“No, I’ll—”

“I should, since you cooked.”

And just like that, breakfast ended. …It was awkward. But not enough to call it uncomfortable. In fact, it was less uncomfortable than I’d expected. I had even considered the possibility of being so uncomfortable that I couldn’t fall asleep at all.

“At this rate… maybe I don’t need to move to a hotel after all.”

The moment I quietly reached that conclusion, Rachel came out dressed and smiling brightly.

“Shall we go now?”

***

There was only one reason I stayed in Philadelphia. To confirm the changes happening in my body. The top priority was finding out whether I had really developed Castleman’s disease.

So Rachel and I went to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. There, I underwent a battery of detailed examinations. As one of the hospital’s largest benefactors, there was no waiting list for me.

“Do you feel any health issues at the moment?”

“No, nothing serious. I just thought I’d get a check-up since I was here anyway.”

While I dodged the question like that, the test results came back.

“Your CRP and ESR levels are slightly elevated, but this could be from a cold or just stress. The CBC shows mild anemia, but nothing you need to be seriously concerned about…”

Medically speaking, I was still in the normal range. But that didn’t mean I was reassured.

‘It could just be too early for the tests to detect anything.’

Like in the case of cancer—at the very earliest stage of abnormal cell growth. Too minute to be caught by any test, but silently progressing underneath.

“Should I try a biopsy…?”

Castleman’s is usually diagnosed through a lymph node biopsy. I considered that option, too.

‘But even that would likely come back normal.’

My inflammation markers were still within normal range, and there was no lymph node swelling. No test could tell me for sure. So I changed direction. The method was simple.

“Sean, this is Kyle.”

Meeting other Castleman’s patients. There were 142 patients currently participating in the rapamycin clinical trial. None had been hospitalized from seizures yet, but I could meet those who came for their regular checkups.

I asked them just one question.

“Before the seizures started—or before the illness fully manifested—did you ever feel anything unusual? I’m trying to gather data on possible early-stage symptoms.”

The key was “symptoms.” If they had experienced the same things I was going through…

“Well, I felt kind of foggy, like anemia. It was hard to focus.”

“I think I became more sensitive… kind of sharp and irritable.”

“I felt like my heart was racing, so I got checked, but the hospital said nothing was wrong and recommended I see a psychiatrist instead.”

They matched my symptoms almost exactly. But I couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Anemia, mood swings, palpitations—these could all stem from countless other conditions or psychological causes. I needed something more specific, more distinctive.

And then.

“Oh, now that you mention it, I sweated a lot at night. It was strange.”

“Sweating?”

“Yes, sometimes I’d wake up to find the sheets drenched… could that be related?”

Night sweats. A relatively uncommon symptom. And most of all, it was exactly what I had gone through just this morning.

‘But still, there aren’t enough cases to be sure.’

So I reached out to patients outside Philadelphia as well. With help from the Castleman Foundation, I obtained a nationwide list of patients and started calling them one by one.

And the result… Over 90%—an overwhelming majority—reported experiencing the same early symptoms I had. They had dismissed them as nothing serious until now. More than a hundred patients sharing the same symptoms. That was undeniable evidence of an early indicator.

But. There was also a symptom none of them had experienced.

“Did you ever feel any pain?”

“Pain?”

“Yes, like sharp, cutting pain—as if an organ was being carved out…”

“No, nothing like that.”

Every patient answered firmly. They had felt no such pain. Which meant that this pain was unique to me.

“In the end… both were true.”

There were two possibilities behind my symptoms. Onset—or warning. And both turned out to be real. The anxiety, shortness of breath, and night sweats were early signs of the disease’s onset. So it was highly likely I had already developed it.

But the “pain that appeared whenever I spent money”… That was something else—an omen, a warning from my cells. And the message was clear.

Don’t spend money.

But I couldn’t understand.

‘My finances are still more than stable…’

At the start of my regression, I budgeted to cover ten rounds of clinical trials. So far, I hadn’t even spent one-tenth of that. Russian Roulette treatment didn’t cost much. Because it used existing drugs off-label. That meant I didn’t need to develop new medicine. No costs for R&D, testing, or production from the start.

As a result, I had funds in abundance. And yet my cells persistently demanded frugality.