Chapter 198: What Was to Come Had Come… [2]
“Look, Pyeong.”
“Whew… That’s it. That’s enough.”
After leaving Parliament, I was still fuming. Were these people even human? No matter how much they hated the Baguette men, this was ridiculous. Just because the French had done it did not mean they should refuse to do what was necessary.
“Well, to be fair, they said they don’t have the money. Really.”
“What do you mean the British Empire doesn’t have money? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, I’m serious. We’re taking massive losses in the fruit and vegetable trade.”
“Wait… what?”
Why was the Qing Dynasty showing up in this conversation? I was caught off guard. It was starting to connect with the history I knew. Of course, Liston did not notice my confusion. But more than that, his tone and posture were strangely subdued. That energetic, larger-than-life personality of his seemed far away. It was intimidating to see him like this. A timid Liston? It was so rare that it actually made me pay more attention.
I listened closely as he explained what I already knew.
“I’m talking about tea. Tea! It’s amazing, isn’t it? But you can only get the good stuff from the Qing.”
“Sure, but how does that mean the British Empire has no money?”
“Well, they don’t buy anything from us. But we buy their silk, porcelain, tea, you name it. So… do you think we have silver left?”
“…Ah. So we’re bleeding silver. That’s why they can’t even maintain the water and sewage systems?”
“They say they want to, but there are too many other urgent problems. You think London only has one issue?”
Riding in a carriage Liston had bought for me, I looked out the window. London was shrouded in gray. It could have just been the dirty glass, but I knew better. This was not only grime. This city was collapsing in on itself under the weight of countless overlapping problems.
“Well, anyway. Let’s do what we can. They said we should start boiling water locally.”
“You’re the one who said our citizens wouldn’t listen.”
“People close to you will.”
Liston raised his fist at me. That same barbarian fist that had seemed so small in Parliament now looked as enormous and powerful as ever. With one punch, he could take out a lawmaker, or even the prime minister or king. The problem was that the law could do the same. But only to people without that kind of power.
“Well, I guess you’re right.”
“So… next time cholera comes around, we’ll point to the people who boiled their water and lived. That should be evidence enough.”
“Shouldn’t it be? That kind of result would be hard to ignore.”
“The French have results too. But no one listens to them either. Barbarians.”
As the nineteenth century barreled forward in chaos, Liston was slowly becoming a true man of science. It was encouraging. Sure, it was disappointing that no real sewer work would happen, but even if they started today, how many years would it take to finish? Meanwhile, I could force people around me to start boiling water immediately. It was something I could do. That was enough, at least for now.
Yes. I should focus on what was possible.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm.”
Unfortunately, that moment of peace did not last.
After we got out of the carriage, we found ourselves at the emergency room. Not by choice. The driver had apparently gotten lost and dropped us there by mistake. London’s roads were a maze, and drivers were not exactly known for their sobriety. Come to think of it, many of our trauma cases came from people being hit by carriages.
As I stepped inside, ready to scold Liston about this later, I was hit by a nauseating sight.
“Eww…”
“Ugh…”
At first glance, it looked like a jaw injury. But the skin was blackened and decaying. If this was the result of initial treatment somewhere else, I would not be surprised. London in the nineteenth century was a place where even a papercut could turn deadly. Paris was not much better.
But no. This was worse.
Far worse.
“What about this?”
The attending doctor was glancing at the patients in confusion. Not just because the treatment seemed daunting. These patients were filthy. Beyond ragged. They looked dead. Could they even pay?
“Pyeong, chins are your specialty…”
Now I was interested. Maybe this had something to do with my medical knowledge. Just as I was about to step forward, Liston stopped me.
“What?”
“No… It’s the money.”
“What?”
“I’ll pay.”
Still guilt-ridden about what had happened earlier, he followed me with a hangdog look. Although to outsiders, it probably looked more like he was about to murder someone. He already had a reputation for dragging a rabid dog victim out of this very emergency room under questionable circumstances. The attending doctor instinctively stepped back.
The patient’s jaw…
My god.
It was rotting away. Visibly, horrifically. Even I did not know what to do. No nineteenth-century treatment I knew of could fix this.
“Patients.”
“Ugh…”
They groaned at my words. The answer came from a woman who had come in with them, in a similar state.
“Yes, yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know… I just went to work, and it started hurting really badly.”
“Work? Where?”
“A factory.”
“Which factory?”
Even getting answers to basic questions was a challenge. These were not educated patients. Even straightforward questions needed to be repeated or clarified multiple times. It was something I had to get used to. The burden was on the doctor to draw out what was important.
“A match factory.”
“Oh, shit.”
That slipped out in Korean. Thankfully, no one understood except Liston.
“At least it’s not the factory I threatened,” he muttered weakly.
“Yeah, that one makes condoms. That would have been more your style to intervene in. But white phosphorus match factories? I warned about them. Are these damn Londoners even listening? Do they even know what that gas does? I didn’t think it would get this bad…”
Liston looked grim too. But probably not as grim as me. Because behind these two patients, there were likely many more. My heart sank as I looked at their disfigured faces.
Damn it.
White phosphorus gas was not just dangerous. It was vicious. It caused acute and chronic poisoning, and I had already warned both Liston and the hospital director. And they still let it get to this point?
“Can we save them?”
“Treatment…”
Yes, focus. I had to start with the patient in front of me. Then I could mobilize the director, the Duke, and everyone else to bring down these factories.
No wonder I had left Parliament thinking this country was hopeless.
Money.
That was what mattered to them. Not human lives. And wasn’t white phosphorus also used in the military? Maybe the suffering of these workers was just “acceptable collateral” to them.
“Oh, would you like to try it?”
“Ah…”
“Hmm…”
It was a terrible sight. The upper jaw looked salvageable, but the lower jaw was a disaster. Probably a result of poor dental hygiene combined with phosphorus necrosis. A decayed cavity had spread into the bone.
“Cut?”
Liston’s hands were itching. He reached for his sword out of habit. These days, he carried it around like a surgeon’s badge of honor, and the police had come to accept it as a medical tool. Still, it gave off the wrong impression.
The emergency room doctor, who had only stepped back before, now ran out of the room.
“Well, isn’t it?” Liston asked, unsure for once.
I wanted to say it was not. But the truth was, we could not save this jaw.
“We’ll have to cut.”
“I’ll do it. One slice.”
“No, wait.”
Cutting might be the only option, but we had to consider the consequences. A person could not live normally without a lower jaw. Even if we cut, how much should we remove? And could we preserve any function?
Flap reconstruction…? No. Impossible here.
In modern medicine, we would use a bone graft from the leg, maybe from the fibula. But I had never done it. I did not even know where to start.
Should I rotate tissue from another area…? No, no. No way.
I stared at the patients, weighing the risks.
There had to be another way.