Chapter 142: No, There Was This? [3]
Alright. The carriage sent by Lord Damien had a very different style from Robert Liston’s. I hated to say it, but while Robert Liston’s carriage had an air of wealth, this one had more of an old-fashioned charm. Given what I knew of Lord Damien’s background, it was not surprising.
“And… the carriage…”
“Exactly.”
Everyone else seemed to be reacting the same way.
Ugh… I’m tired.
I leaned my head against the back of the carriage and closed my eyes for a moment. I could not rest properly, not with him constantly trying to draw blood whenever I looked even remotely ill. But surely he would not pull a knife out in someone else’s carriage. And this was not just any carriage. It was Lord Damien’s. That made it feel safer.
Alright… Wait, what?
Even as I tried to rest, I had to peek at Liston every now and then. Fortunately, he was not paying much attention. Probably because Jémel was not around. That man was the real master of Bloodletting. It still felt weird calling anyone a “master” of Bloodletting.
“You have to drain the dead blood!”
That phrase from my dream suddenly resurfaced. Maybe I had heard it before. That kid said it all the time.
How am I supposed to convince them there’s no such thing as “dead blood” in a living person?
Sure, some blood looked darker when cut from a vein, but that was just deoxygenated blood, not “dead.” Expired red and white blood cells were filtered by the spleen, and new ones were produced by the bone marrow.
Will I even live to see that concept accepted?
When was Hematopoiesis even established? Had it been established yet? Judging by the current state of medicine, it felt like a far-off dream.
This is still Earth, right?
I could not believe this level of misunderstanding persisted, especially with less than two hundred years between this time and mine.
“We’ve arrived. Please disembark.”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked around. We were already at the hospital. The trip was faster than usual, but that made sense. This was a noble’s carriage. In the slums of London, no one would dare block its path.
“Hm.”
Maybe it was the opium tincture, but the hospital looked slightly different, even though I had seen it just that morning.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
No, that was not it. When I saw Liston try to draw his knife again, I realized what it was. I was experiencing the fear of someone who had come back from the brink of death. I told them yesterday. I almost died because of people I trusted.
I really need to focus on survival…
There was danger everywhere. The scariest part? I could die at the hands of someone trying to help. If I really died…
I’d probably be buried alive.
Even if I was not fully dead, there was a good chance they would bury me anyway. In those moments before death, hearing often lingered, so maybe I would still hear them.
“He’s dead.”
“That’s a shame…”
“My poor friend, Pyeong…”
“Should we dissect him?”
“Feels like a waste otherwise.”
“No, no. Better ask first.”
Those bastards. Would that be the end of it? No. Body snatchers would probably dig me up soon after. I was not a noble, so I would be buried in a public cemetery. And during this era, “public” cemeteries were shared like community property.
“Hey, Boss.”
“What?”
“He’s alive.”
“Let’s just say he lived.”
“Sure.”
God, it was terrifying. And the worst part? It was not a delusion. This sort of thing was probably happening somewhere in London right now.
“Okay, it’s fine.”
I walked inside, forcing a smile to avoid spiraling into that dark future. Lord Damien was technically in the hospital, but really, he was in my lab. The hospital rooms here were so poor that putting someone of his status in one would be an unforgivable offense.
Knock knock.
I headed straight to the lab. One of the attendants at the door recognized me and knocked.
“He said you may come in.”
“Thank you.”
As I stepped inside, my habit kicked in: assess the patient’s complexion. In modern medicine, I would have drawn blood first thing in the morning, but not here. Especially not when people still tried transfusing blood from random donors. I had to estimate everything, like red blood cell count, based on appearance alone.
Looks okay.
His lips were a bit dry, possibly slightly dehydrated, but overall, his color looked fine.
“May I look at your eyelids for a moment?”
“Huh? Eyelids?”
Of course, this was not enough to feel confident in the diagnosis, but I had to do what I could.
“Why…?”
“It helps assess your condition.”
Lord Damien seemed confused, which was understandable. The attendants behind me, even less informed, looked just as puzzled. I figured I would explain it later and gently lifted his eyelid. There was a healthy pink glow. That was good.
“Looks fine. Any sharp pain here?”
“When I move…”
“When it moves?”
“Yeah, inside. It hurts when it touches.”
Ah, he meant the catheter. The irritation was from the tube rubbing against a wound.
“Would you mind lowering your trousers a bit?”
“Sigh…”
“I’ll need to examine it more closely. Everyone here already saw it yesterday.”
“Fine… Do as you must.”
You could not diagnose this sort of thing by guessing. I had to inspect for infection.
Grunt.
I helped him lower his trousers. It reeked, which was not surprising. Hygiene among nobles was questionable at best.
Queen Elizabeth supposedly had tuberculosis… and only bathed once a month.
For most people, getting caught in the rain was considered a bath. How did we fall so far from Roman standards? They had public baths, and now…
Because people think bathing gives you syphilis…
It sounded ridiculous, but at the time, there were outbreaks in bathhouses. People believed you could catch syphilis just by washing. That was why soap use declined. No wonder perfume became a thing in Europe.
“There’s no swelling, no heat… That’s good. Very good.”
“That’s a relief.”
I was a skilled doctor. I could evaluate a wound even while my thoughts wandered. It was not surgery, just an infection check.
“Your Excellency.”
“Hmm?”
After a brief Q&A, one of the attendants quietly informed Lord Damien about my collapse yesterday. He mentioned I fainted from pain and took opium tincture. I worried it might come off as addiction. These people were not nobles, so they had no self-awareness, but Lord Damien was a real aristocrat.
“Oh… You must have been in terrible pain. And yet you came here for me… How can I ever repay you?”
“Your Excellency, it seems Dr. Pyeong has quite the fondness for opium tincture. He chose it over Bloodletting.”
Liston, naturally, said the worst thing at the worst time. No, no, no. That was not what I meant!
“Oh really?”
“Hmm… Then perhaps I have something to offer you.”
No. Please, not more opium…
“Have you heard of morphine?”
“What?”
When I heard “morphine,” I was caught off guard and pleasantly surprised. Morphine! A drug still used even in the twenty-first century. Sure, we had better options now, but it was still in use. It was an extremely potent painkiller, albeit dangerously addictive.
“Haha, I knew it. He really likes opium.”
No, that was not what I meant! But it was not the time to object. I was too curious about how morphine even existed in this timeline.
“Morphine can be used as medicine.”
“Of course. It’s a good remedy for colds.”
Wait, what? You were using morphine for the common cold? I mean, technically, it suppressed coughing, but—
You’re suppressing respiration, too.
Morphine dulled pain so effectively that it even masked the body’s instinct to breathe. Which meant prolonged use caused hypoxia. Your brain slowly died without you realizing it. It was way worse than alcohol-induced blackouts.
Still… one time should be fine.
I forced a smile. And that smile caused more misunderstandings.
“Alright, then! I’ll give it to you. I recently got a batch of morphine from Germany. I haven’t used it yet, so I’ll give it to you.”
“Ah… thank you.”
Even my gratitude was misread. But still, yes, I wanted to use it. Not for fun. As a real painkiller. London was a city full of deadly labor accidents. Most people received no help at all. Even if they came to the hospital, nothing could be done.
But with morphine?
At least they won’t suffer.
This should have been available in hospitals already. Still, I was grateful to get it now. Only then did I allow myself a genuine smile.