The Devil's Disease
Devil's Disease (3)
Blister Plague. Red Fever. Black Rot. Curse of Decay. Bone-Melter. These were the names used in this world for smallpox, scarlet fever, the bubonic plague, leprosy, and bone tuberculosis, respectively. Furthermore, malaria was called Southern Fever, and the cinchona tree was known as the Tirun tree. It seemed this world often used different names for the diseases I already knew. Once I realized this, the first thing I did was translate the local medical terminology into the names I was familiar with. And in that process, I discovered a rather peculiar illness.
The Devil's Disease. A sickness that, the more healing magic it received, the worse it became instead of getting better. It couldn't be cured by healing magic or medicinal herbs; the only way to "fix" it was through prayer to the gods. It was the ultimate, incurable disease of this era.
Immediately after hearing about it, I confidently scoured the literature. 'It’s probably just cancer or some rare disease, right?' Just as smallpox was the Blister Plague and the plague was Black Rot, I assumed the Devil's Disease was simply another name for a condition I already knew. But after compiling every recorded case of the Devil's Disease in history, I fell into confusion.
'What on earth is this?'
The first historical case I saw was the story of a certain Marquis: — A lump grows on the body. The lump grows larger the more healing magic is received. At first, I thought the Devil's Disease was cancer. But the subsequent cases were strange.
— High fever, to the point where the body is boiling. (Estimated around 40°C)
'Huh? A fever?'
Cancer does not fundamentally cause fever. Of course, "tumor fever" exists, but that is a rare symptom that only appears in stage 4 cancer. It is extremely, extremely rare for it to exceed 40 degrees. In other words, the Devil's Disease resulted in the contradictory conclusion of being a "tumor disease accompanied by systemic high fever."
The problem was that the symptoms of the Devil's Disease didn't end there.
— Sudden cardiac arrest.
— Unstoppable bleeding.
— The entire body turns black.
. . .
The Devil's Disease had no consistency from patient to patient; it recorded every type of symptom a human could possibly experience. Since then, I had tried to decipher the Devil's Disease whenever I had the time. And it was only relatively recently that I found the answer.
— "Come to think of it, in the old days, people sometimes confused the Pus Plague with the Curse of Decay. They diverged as time passed, though."
According to my master, hundreds of years ago, people couldn't distinguish between smallpox and leprosy, so they called both the Curse of Decay. But as time passed and healing arts developed, it was revealed that they were two different diseases. Consequently, smallpox came to be called the Pus Plague, and leprosy the Curse of Decay. The moment I heard that historical fact, I realized my misconception about the Devil's Disease.
A world where medicine is less developed. A worldview where all medical standards are determined by healing magic. Because of that, they were calling "all diseases" that worsened rather than improved with healing magic the Devil's Disease. In short, the Devil's Disease was a catch-all for every unidentified illness—cancer, autoimmune diseases, genetic disorders, and so on.
So, classifying those Devil's Diseases one by one had been my recent interest, but...
'And Freya has the Devil's Disease at a time like this?'
Freya was showing symptoms that fit the Devil's Disease. 'Should I be happy about this, or not?' Looking back on my life, it was always like this. As soon as I finished researching and perfecting quinine at age eight, my father caught malaria. After I went to the red-light district to gain experience, my mother and Freed almost ended up in danger. And now that I'm researching the Devil's Disease, Freya catches it.
It certainly fits the tropes of a misunderstanding-based story, but...
'I didn't cause this, did I? Right?'
I just happened to be here at the right time, right? I'm not like some famous detective boy who brings death wherever he goes, am I? ...Please, tell me I'm not. That's not what's important right now.
'First, I need to classify this Devil's Disease.'
As mentioned, the Devil's Disease is not a single illness. Cancer, autoimmune diseases, genetic disorders—it is a collective term for everything that cannot be cured by healing magic. Naturally, to treat a disease, understanding it comes first. Therefore, to treat this Devil's Disease, I must figure out exactly what it is.
'Let's organize Freya's symptoms.' High fever, non-pale erythema, conjunctival injection, dry mucous membranes, splenomegaly. And crucially, it worsened after receiving a Lesser Heal.
'The principle of Lesser Heal is the enhancement of regeneration and immunity.' A list of diseases that could be exacerbated by Lesser Heal flashed through my mind: Cancer, autoimmune diseases, rheumatism, anaphylaxis... From those, I narrowed it down to only the diseases that could cause a high fever of over 41 degrees. That alone significantly narrowed the candidates.
'Combined with her history of frequent colds and the fact that she is a 14-year-old girl...'
Cytokine storm. Yes. This is the most likely culprit.
When the immune system fights a pathogen, the body raises its temperature to create a home-ground advantage. By doing this, germs vulnerable to heat struggle in the high-temperature body and are unilaterally purged. — Hey, that's cheating! Even the brain, which usually keeps a limiter on body temperature, allows the limiter to be released and the temperature to keep rising at this moment.
The problem occurs when the immune system fighting the bacteria goes out of control.
— I will no longer be under your control!
Originally, the immune system should raise the temperature moderately, but drunk on its own power, it raises it without end. The brain, which should be controlling this, has already released the limiter. In this state, the fever rises without knowing its limits. As a result, the brain is cooked sous-vide and the patient dies. This phenomenon is called a cytokine storm.
'It's like burning down the house to catch a single thief.' Well, strictly speaking, it's more complex, but that's the gist of it.
'And I cast a Lesser Heal in this situation, which is why the symptoms worsened.' The pathogens inside Freya's body are probably all dead by now. They must have vanished without a trace due to the high temperature and the two rounds of healing. But the price for that is her body temperature, which is currently nearing 42 degrees. I needed to lower her temperature immediately.
Finishing my thoughts, I called out to the priestess who was wiping cold sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief.
"Sister."
"Y-yes!" The priestess flinched.
"The child's condition clearly worsened every time you cast Heal. Isn't that right?"
"Y-yes..."
"Then why did you keep casting Heal?"
The priestess's face turned pale. "T-that... the fever wouldn't go down... I thought it was because my divine power was insufficient..."
"If your divine power is insufficient, it just has no effect; it doesn't cause a counter-effect."
"...Yes, that is correct."
"Then if the patient's condition worsens, you should stop and call a superior. Why did you keep attempting it alone?"
"I am sorry..."
"Hmm. You must have learned about the Devil's Disease in school. Are you perhaps a novice priestess?"
"I-I am a junior."
Damn it. As expected of a dark fantasy where romance lives and breathes. Of all things, they sent a resident-level priestess on a house call. No, wait. Come to think of it, even in the 21st century, they sent interns to local emergency rooms. ...Damn it. Even if the world changes, the tiring work is always for the subordinates.
"It's late at night and it's a house call, and since they heard it was just a cold patient, they must have sent you."
"Y-yes..."
She didn't not know about the Devil's Disease. It's just that because she lacks practical experience, the knowledge didn't pop into her head at the right time. It's a phenomenon commonly seen in residents who haven't been in the field for long. 'Tsk tsk. You must have come thinking it was just a cold patient. How flustered you must have been when it suddenly turned out to be the Devil's Disease.'
In terms of my past life, it's like an intern on night duty suddenly having a patient with a knife in their heart pushed in on a cart. The patient is gasping for air, the professor isn't answering the phone, and when the heart stops, they just start doing chest compressions. On a patient with a hole in their chest! And that patient is the family of a noble. If I were an intern, I think I would have cried too. I actually did. Tsk. What a pathetic bastard I was. It's a miracle I managed to handle it well back then. Come to think of it, I got roped into thoracic surgery by the professor who helped me clean that up. Why did I do that? I should have just done radiology and enjoyed my work-life balance.
I keep drifting off-topic, but anyway, the accident the junior priestess caused was that big. She failed to properly notice a noble young lady, a patient with the Devil's Disease, and cast Heal on her repeatedly. Thanks to that, the Devil's Disease had worsened.
"Sister."
"I am sorry. Please, forgive me, sir. I still have daughters..."
Oh, so you have daughters too. To think you were a working mom. Looking at the wrinkles, you seem to have some age on you. And yet, to still be a junior priestess...
'Is she a late bloomer?' Well, it was a common sight in medical school. There were older brothers and sisters who entered medical school after turning 30.
"I understand."
I calmed the sobbing priestess. As a family member, I wanted to be angry and argue, but that wouldn't change anything. The priority right now is Freya. And to treat Freya, I need the priestess. 'In the off chance an emergency situation arises, I need to keep her life tethered, even if it's by casting Heal.' Although it worsened the condition, Heal is still essential in emergencies. Because it increases not only immunity but also vitality and regenerative power, it can delay multiple organ failure. The fact that Freya is holding on right now is because her vitality has been strengthened by the Heal that also caused her immune system to go berserk. Therefore, this junior priestess is no different from Freya's life insurance.
"I was wrong... I was wrong..."
However, I didn't think I could even use her as an assistant in this state, so I needed to calm her down first. Shall I try to break the ice with some small talk?
"Please, calm down. You said you have daughters; how old are they?"
"14 and 16... and unlike me, they are both good at studying, have good personalities, and oh, the older one is going through puberty lately..."
"Yes. That's good." I cut off the rambling priestess. "My younger sister is 14. Why don't you think of Freya as your own daughter and do your best to treat her?"
"...Please, just spare my daughters!"
No, how did it get translated like that? What I meant was for her to squeeze everything she's learned so far out of her head. Could she have thought that if Freya dies, her daughters wouldn't be safe? There's no way I would do that. ...Well, maybe my father would. Hmm. Come to think of it, I don't think this family would be safe if something happened to Freya.
"...Please calm down. What I mean is, haven't you learned how to control the symptoms of a Devil's Disease patient?"
The priestess shook her head. As expected. The treatment guideline for the Devil's Disease that I know is to just leave them alone and offer prayers. Don't cast divine magic and cause unnecessary pain; just go through the hospice procedures. And if they don't die? Then the prayer reached the gods.
'I asked just in case, but now I don't have to worry about reading the room.' From that moment on, the priestess transferred to being a "Heal Totem." I truly feel sorry for ignoring the authority of an expert, but this is a situation where a family member's life is at stake. I immediately brought the procedure to treat Freya to mind.
'First, I must kill the immunity.' The cause of a cytokine storm is excessive inflammation. Therefore, I need to calm this inflammation down. And there was a specific medicine for this.
'Steroids are... here.' Fortunately, I had steroids in my bag. Steroids are anti-inflammatory drugs made by grinding up pig adrenal glands. However, there was a minor problem with these steroids. The yield extracted from the adrenal glands is incredibly poor. This is because, unlike insulin, steroids are not a hormone stored somewhere. They are a hormone made on the spot whenever needed. Because of this, even if you split open a pig's belly, you don't get even a rat's tail worth of steroids. It's to the point where if you crush one ton of pig adrenal glands, you only get 1g of steroids.
Because of this terrible and desperate yield, steroids were a precious medicine that I didn't have much of in my possession.
'One 1g vial.' You can think of this small ampoule as having thousands of pigs concentrated inside. I'm not joking; this one bottle contains money equivalent to the research fund I donated to my master this year.
But, 'What am I thinking?' There was no hesitation. She is my one and only younger sister. Making money. Trying to succeed by using the misunderstanding. It's all to make my family happy. Why would I save this medicine now? Where would I use it?
I took out a syringe. Without delay, I tied a tourniquet around Freya's slender arm. Over the bluish, protruding vein, the 1g of medicine, compressed from a ton of material, began to slowly seep in.
'Please, hold on.' Originally, you don't administer 1g of steroids at once. The pills that allergy patients usually take are 10mg, which is 0.01g. So, I am currently administering 100 times the amount those people take at once. But there was a reason for this.
'I have to go with pulse therapy.' It was an extreme prescription to force a shutdown of the runaway immune system by slamming a high dose of steroids at once. Originally, it's a crazy act that could stop the heart. But right now, saving the brain is the priority, so I had no choice.
'If the heart stops, I can just cast Heal or perform CPR.' But if the brain cooks, there's no answer. So, I had no choice but to gamble.
5 minutes. 10 minutes. Over 15 minutes, I administered the entire 1g. Slowly, as slowly as possible, adjusting the speed by hand. It was like a final struggle to put as little burden on the heart as possible.
'Please...'
I pulled out the syringe and pressed a piece of sanitary cloth firmly onto the injection mark left on Freya's arm.
"Sister."
"Y-yes!"
"Please bring me a towel soaked in cold water. And also some boiled and cooled water. She shouldn't get dehydrated."
"Understood!"
The priestess, who had transferred to being my assistant, rushed out of the room. I placed my hand on Freya's forehead. It was still hot.
'Of course it is.' Steroids are not magic. Just because I pushed the syringe doesn't mean the fever drops immediately. It takes at least 2 hours. At most, I have to wait 4 hours for the effects to start appearing. Even though I know that fact rationally...
'Please...'
My mind was filled with impatience. At that moment, Freya's weak voice reached me.
"Brother..."
"Why? What is it?"
"Are you there?"
"Yes. I'm here."
I held my sister's hand, which was soaked in sweat. The hand of a fourteen-year-old girl trembling. She was too young to accept death, even if she knew what it was.
"It's okay."
I squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm here, so it's okay."
"..."
"What did I say last time, when Freed was born and got sick?"
"... I trust you, brother."
"That's right."
Upon hearing my answer, the strength in Freya's hand loosened a little.
An hour passed. 41.0 degrees. No change.
2 hours passed. 40.7 degrees. It dropped a little.
3 hours passed. 41.0 degrees. It went back up.
'Damn it...' There's no sign of the fever going down. Was the amount of steroids insufficient? Or is the immune system that went berserk due to the Heal too strong?
I clicked my tongue and gave the priestess a new instruction.
"Sister. Do you know how to make holy water?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes. I learned it at the seminary... but here, the symbolism is lacking, so it's difficult to make..."
"Then go outside right now and make it. There's a prayer room in the annex, so it should be possible there."
"Yes! I'll be right back!"
The priestess hurriedly left the room. With the priestess sent away, I looked down at my younger sister, who was trembling. Actually, there is one more card besides the steroids. The problem is that it's a treatment with zero clinical data accumulated. Thinking that I was performing an unverified treatment on my family made it difficult to bring out that method. But... now I had no choice.
'Tsk.' I was bold when Freed was born. To think I'd become so timid after she entered my fence. 'Pull yourself together, Julian.' I am the protagonist of a misunderstanding story. A protagonist who succeeds at everything. And, a genius of black magic recognized by the Great Sage. So there's no need to worry about anything.
'What have I been hesitating about until now?' It was already too late to worry. With determination, I held Freya's hand tightly. I held both of her hands and quietly began to weave the formula. The catalyst was the steroids flowing in her blood. The grammar of the formula was a curse. And the symbol I used was...
'... I am sorry.'
The Y-shaped cross the priestess had left behind. I used that cross as a catalyst. 'Apostle. If you possess the symbolism I think you do...' Please, sacrifice yourself this time as well. I held the cross tightly in both hands and chanted as if singing.
"Expurgatio angeli custodis inepti atque fervidi."
Immediately after the incantation ended, my mana drained from my body. Just as I was worrying if it had failed, the brass cross I was holding melted, and soon, Freya's fever began to subside rapidly.