Chapter 132: Improvement [3]
“Are we here?”
“Yes, this is the place. I gave him some coins, and he started talking.”
We followed the driver. He was surprisingly competent and seemed to take this task seriously. Among the people the professor had rounded up, he had tracked down several who lived right here in London. The professor made it sound like no big deal, just using the same coachman he always rode with, but honestly, if it had just been us, we never would have come up with that idea. Credit where credit was due.
“Good. Now swap this for that.”
“This… This is too much.”
“It’s fine. You did great. Really, if you think about it, London might be full of men without testicles.”
“Ah… Thank you.”
Robert Liston must have had the same thought I did, because he handed the coachman a hefty sum. That kind of generosity, despite his usually blunt manner, probably explained why so many people still chose to follow him.
I should try that too…
Money. It always came down to money. And now, I had a decent amount myself. Enough to toss around, even.
Maybe I could offer bribes to the Stomach Society… You don’t become director just by handing out cash, do you?
Still, given that I had neither status nor infrastructure, using money smartly might be my best option.
While I was mulling that over, Robert Liston stood before a shabby house and knocked on the door. I say “shabby,” but this was not even really a house. Back when I volunteered in rural clinics, I saw some rough places, but this…
Is that… a window?
I supposed it counted as one. Through the small hole in the wall, I could see people inside. Several of them, in fact, crammed into a space that should not have fit more than two.
“Nuchu.”
A voice came from behind the door, hoarse and weary, barely more than a plea. Nothing unusual. Everyone around this alley sounded like that. Honestly, if we screened this area properly, we would probably find a dozen cases of advanced laryngeal cancer.
“This is Robert Liston, from London University.”
“A doctor? What’s someone like that doing here?”
“I heard there’s a sailor named Hugh living here.”
“That’s me.”
“We need to talk. Could you open the door?”
“…Are you here to give me money?”
Apparently, he had been paid before. Again, not shocking. This was London, the frontline of cutthroat capitalism. If it could be bought, it would be. Plenty of people had no shame in demanding payment outright. And we did bring money…
Wait, why is this guy hesitating?
I looked at the door. Locked. I tugged the latch, just in case.
“Professor, it’s locked.”
“Really?”
It was not a proper lock, just a crude iron latch, like the kind on a public restroom. Unsurprisingly, it did not budge.
“It was open before—”
Before I could finish, Liston reached forward, jammed his fist into the small opening, and yanked the door open from the inside. It was absurdly effective.
Naturally, the old sailor inside stumbled back and grabbed a rusty iron skewer.
“What, what! You’re not from the hospital!”
Not that we looked like hospital staff. We could not really blame him. And that skewer? Honestly, it was more dangerous than a surgical knife, especially in a world with no treatment for tetanus.
“Professor, just… calm down a bit.”
But Liston did not seem the least bit fazed. If anything, he looked offended by the weapon.
“He pulled a knife on me. Unbelievable.”
“Technically, we did break his door.”
“You didn’t open the door when I asked. Then you ask for money? You think I’m a robber?”
“Well…”
Sometimes conversations just went in circles. I did not expect it to happen with a weapon involved, though.
“You… you bastards, what the hell!”
The sailor shouted in disbelief. By now, curious onlookers had gathered, but none of them came too close.
Shing.
That sound could only mean one thing. Liston had drawn his scalpel. Though honestly, it looked more like a short sword than any scalpel I had ever seen.
“Professor?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s just for defense.”
“Ah…”
“I came here to talk.”
At least he was calm about it. And, to be fair, Liston was not entirely unhinged. Just dramatic.
“Talk? About what?”
Thankfully, the sailor, Hugh, sized up Liston and the oversized blade, then decided to be reasonable. If he had tried anything, it would have been suicide.
Still, this whole thing escalated fast…
I glanced back at the alley. The pedestrians here looked like they could turn into muggers at any moment. I hated to judge by appearances, but one look at them told me that if I had come alone, I would be long gone by now.
“You… You don’t have testicles, do you?”
Liston’s sudden question cut through the tension like a knife. Hugh looked stunned.
“What?!”
Even I was caught off guard. I turned to see Liston still wearing that infuriatingly blank expression.
“That’s nonsense!”
Hugh’s face flushed red. He was clearly mortified. His voice trembled with anger, or was it shame?
“Are you… not standing?”
“You bastard!”
He tried to yell, but his voice cracked. As if the embarrassment was too much, his fury gave way to helpless tears. For a man who had clearly lived a hard life, this was a bitter moment. Liston must have sensed it too, because he pulled out more coins.
“Tell me more and I’ll pay you.”
At that, Hugh’s eyes flickered. I felt a twinge of guilt watching it.
“All right. Let’s just… sit and talk.”
His tone softened. The power of money was undeniable.
“It doesn’t look like there’s much room to sit. Let’s talk here.”
“Then at least tell the others to leave. I still have some dignity.”
“Dignity…?”
Hugh looked at me as if I would know whether that was something he still had.
“There is.”
Liston, surprisingly, stepped back and told the four other people crammed inside to get out. Not that he needed to say much. The knife still in his hand did the convincing. The others filed out quickly, and now it was just the three of us.
“I heard the rumors. Dr. Liston…”
Once the door shut, the stench became nearly unbearable. But Liston had a strong stomach, and after so much dissection practice, I was getting used to it.
If there’s any function left…
If both testicles were gone, then testosterone would be gone too. No doubt about it. But if this injury happened at sea, maybe only one side was damaged? There was still a chance.
“You pee fine, right?”
“Yes…”
Liston stared at the man’s thinning hair. Not exactly polite, but Hugh did not have much left up there anyway.
“Why… why do you keep asking if I have nothing?”
“Pyeong, what’s your take on this?”
Liston turned to me. I was more afraid of him than Hugh, so I did not hesitate.
“If they’re gone, they’re gone. They don’t grow back.”
“I see.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Anyway, are you really okay?”
“Isn’t that… kind of personal?”
“It’s important. The future of London rests on your answer.”
To Hugh, it probably sounded like a joke. But Liston did not smile. And very few people dared joke around with a man holding a knife that large.
“What… are you talking about?”
“Because of you, all of London is at risk of losing its testicles.”
“What?!”
“People like you, who urinate without issue even after losing them, are causing others with urinary problems to seek voluntary castration. As of today…”
Liston’s mind flashed to Dr. Kane.
“The police came and took him away.”
It seemed even the nobility had been caught up in this. Wanting to urinate normally was universal, but they had the means to act on that desire. Still, dragging Harry into it… Harry the Butcher…
“We need to find the critical defect caused by testicle loss before there are more casualties. Tell us.”
“…Well… truthfully, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any urges.”
“Eureka!”
“Jeez, if you’re that happy, give me the money already.”
“Of course. Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Right then, let’s go.”
Footnotes
Translator’s Notes
Nuchu — Rendered as the hoarse, unclear sound Hugh makes from behind the door. The original appears to represent a rough, indistinct utterance rather than a standard word.