Chapter 141: No, There Was This? [2]
Just in case, I checked places other than my ankles. In the traditional method of Bloodletting, which dated all the way back to Hippocrates, the ankle was the standard site. I did not know why, but they really did draw blood from the ankle. It could not have been the only place, though. I’d heard they drew blood from forearms, necks, and even the nose. I was not exaggerating. I saw some guy named Jémel do it.
Was that guy here yesterday? Ugh… my memory… I feel dizzy.
Was he? I thought so. Maybe.
And the opium tincture… They say it’s because I had a sip of that.
I could not remember clearly. Like a hangover, my thoughts were foggy and dreamlike. Thankfully, the drug wore off, and I did not feel any cravings or withdrawal symptoms. Physically, at least, I seemed fine.
Phew.
I looked myself over again. Nothing was out of the ordinary. At least they had not stabbed me yesterday. That was what they said, anyway.
“…Huh?”
Only then did I realize I actually felt much better than yesterday. No fever. Less pain. It probably was not the opium. I must have simply gotten good rest. Besides, was I not better nourished than most Londoners of this era? My body was not in poor enough shape to catch a cold just from stress or exhaustion.
The problem is, they’ll probably credit the opium again…
I could already hear it. This was an era where statistics, theories, hypotheses, and experimental verification did not mean much, at least not in medicine. I heard they still conducted experiments in other fields, but for some reason, medicine was still dominated by anecdotal universalism.
“Ugh.”
As that thought crossed my mind, a dull headache bloomed. It felt like a surge of cortisol. My heart rate quickened. Ha…
“Huh?”
Maybe he heard me moaning, or maybe he just happened to wake up. Either way, Robert Liston stirred and opened his eyes wide.
“…Hi.”
That face. I had seen it somewhere before. Where was it…? Oh, right. Zombies. Why was his face so terrifying?
“Oh, you’re awake?”
Despite his terrifying expression, he was actually a pretty decent guy. As soon as he saw I was conscious, he hurried over.
And then it hit me. His breath. It smelled like rot, or sewage. I could hardly breathe. Still, I was not dumb enough to show it.
Later… I need to explain the importance of brushing your teeth.
Strange. I used to play this old game, Caesar III. Did they not have something like dentistry back then? Treatment mostly meant pulling rotten teeth. Why did people not even brush their teeth in this era?
“Yes, thank you.”
“Thank the opium tincture.”
“No, I think I just slept really well…”
“Haha! This lad was moaning and mumbling nonsense in his sleep. I think he kept saying something like Joseon… completely out of his mind!”
Of course I was out of my mind. I drugged myself. Mixed opium with alcohol, no less.
When I think about it now… I really could’ve died.
Sure, my odds were better than if I had been stabbed. But Liston still did not sterilize his knives. Maybe they were not dirty, but they were not disinfected either.
“Oh? That’s good, then.”
“Still, you never know what might happen next…”
“I was worried, Professor.”
Our conversation seemed to wake the others. Joseph, Alfred, and Colin gathered around one by one. Sure, they almost killed me with their medical “care,” but I could tell their concern was real. That alone made me feel a little better. That, and the easing pain.
“Haha, it’s all thanks to me! For a mild cold, opium tincture beats Bloodletting!”
At that moment, Professor Blundell burst out laughing, completely missing the point. A doctor prescribing opium like that… did that even make sense?
Just thinking about it gave me another headache, but I did my best to keep a straight face.
“Ugh, it hurts!”
“One more sip!”
“No, no! Bring me a knife!”
I did not need to look to know what was going on. Just imagining the nineteenth-century doctors doing their best to kill me again was enough. No wonder rich people stayed home when they were sick. Call a doctor, and you might end up dead.
“Haaah…”
“Are you unwell?”
“No, no. I think I’m getting better.”
“Haha! Of course you are! The opium tincture did the trick!”
And just like that, a dangerous idea began to take root. No, it had already become a belief. But what could I do? I had to prioritize my own survival. If this era became addicted to opium because of me, the world might lose a great doctor. And I meant that seriously. I was not just being arrogant.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“Oh, yes. I actually asked my father to prepare something healthy.”
“Health food?”
“Ah! I mean, healthy food!”
Health food. Food meant to protect and restore the body. Scientifically speaking, that idea was both true and false. Sure, if you were nutritionally deficient, some foods helped. But in the wealthy twenty-first-century world, most so-called health foods just made you fat.
If it’s me right now…
I looked at my forearms. Compared to the average worker’s arms, I was doing okay. I had decent muscle mass, probably just the baseline I was born with. I was not bulky, but I was not frail either.
I think I’ll be fine.
Surely they would not put opium in the food, right? That was just common sense.
…But does common sense even exist here?
Feeling uneasy, I turned to Alfred.
“Hey… this doesn’t have opium in it, right?”
“Huh? No, it shouldn’t. Want it?”
“No, no thanks!”
“I can put some in if you want.”
“No! Please. I just want food to be food.”
“Okay, then. This one has eel. We caught it yesterday.”
“Oh.”
Eel? They had that here? I started drooling without meaning to.
Eel… It’s such a good fish.
A bit bony, sure, but if you filleted and grilled it properly, it was amazing. Sprinkle some salt, and it was perfect. I would love a little red pepper paste too. Even in England, eel had to be good.
“You like eel? I should’ve made it more often. I didn’t know you were so delicate.”
“Ah, Pyeong’s always been weak, even back in the countryside… He got even weaker after coming to London.”
“City life’s hard on rural folk.”
“Exactly. I’m fine. But he’s especially frail.”
That was such an unfair conversation. Nineteenth-century Londoners were calling me, a Seoulite, weak? I only got sick because I did not have my mom’s cooking anymore.
Now that I think about it… I miss her. If I have time, I’ll go visit.
Mom. She was not the same as the mother I remembered, but still. She raised me with so much love, even though I was always a bit… off. Even now, I was in my second life, from the future, and I still could not walk the streets here alone.
Anyway, when’s that eel coming?
Rather than getting mad at their nonsense, I waited. I could endure anything for eel. Just then, someone knocked.
“That must be it.”
“Oh!”
“This kid really loves eel. I’ll tell my father to prepare it more often. It must have been hard to catch, but if my benefactor and teacher likes it that much, what’s a little effort?”
“Thank you, senior.”
“Thank you? Hah! I fed you and let you sleep here, but you only start thanking me after an eel? Come in!”
He seemed pleased by my reaction. Actually, everyone looked excited.
Rattle.
The door opened, and a servant entered carrying a bowl.
Hmm.
No savory aroma. No grilled eel smell. Well, maybe it had cooled down on the way.
“Huh?”
“It’s eel jelly.”
“Haha. It’s delicious.”
“It’s true health food. Doesn’t it taste like it’s good for you?”
I had been excited, but now the others were making weird noises as they ate. I was still lying in bed, waiting my turn.
Eel jelly…?
What kind of sick joke was that? Jelly? Out of eel? Why? Was that even possible?
Eventually, my plate arrived.
What is this?
“Go on, eat.”
“Yeah, eat up.”
“The eel jelly fan is here.”
“Hurry, Pyeong. We’re all fine.”
“Yes, Professor, eat.”
They all thought my hesitation came from politeness. Meanwhile, I was wondering what kind of monstrosity this was. Chopped-up eel, suspended in yellow jelly. Was it even fully cooked? How did anyone mess up eel this badly?
Only in England.
I wanted to throw it out, but under everyone’s gaze, I had no choice.
Chomp.
“You like it that much?”
“He’s crying. Crying!”
It tasted like tears. Seriously. That strange fishy taste…
Chew.
“Stop crying and eat. I’ll have to catch more eel.”
“…Sure.”
Amid the strange cheers, I kept eating, bite by bite. When I was halfway through, someone knocked. The door opened before anyone answered.
I looked up to see who dared just barge in, and it was the butler.
“Young master.”
“Huh?”
“Lord Damien sent me to ask when he could see you. What should I say?”
“Ah… I forgot I collapsed.”
Before Alfred could speak, I got up. I felt dizzy, and if I ate any more eel jelly, I really might throw up.
“I’ll go.”
“No, Lord Damien is sick. You should rest.”
“But I’m his doctor. I have to see the patient I operated on!”
“Hah… He’ll be impressed.”
I was moved. Shocked. And my stomach was dying. But I followed the butler outside anyway.
Everyone came with me, even the sick ones. I was their “benefactor,” after all.
I discreetly spat the eel jelly into my hand and tossed it out the window.
And all I could think of was Lord Damien. I did not even care about the surgical site anymore. I was just grateful to escape that meal alive.