The Detective and the Doctor
Tina. After I stopped the baby’s convulsions, I checked the IV line once more to ensure it wasn't kinked, then sat down in the chair beside the bed. The Countess was pressed close to her child, gazing down at the sleeping infant. She held the baby’s tiny hand, letting it grip her finger, her expression gradually softening as she felt the warmth radiating from the small palm. The Count, the baby’s father, was staring out the window at the spring rain. The streaks of water on the glass looked like tears, but I dismissed the thought as a mere trick of my imagination.
Meanwhile, my father was in the hallway, speaking with an aide. It seemed they were planning to begin the investigation once the Count and Countess had calmed down. In that brief moment of respite, I opened my notebook and picked up my pen.
‘I think I have a rough idea of the cause.’
I organized the symptoms of the children in my mind: intermittent rigidity, horizontal nystagmus, hypertonia, and pupil dilation. These symptoms shared a common exogenous factor: they were all caused by substances used in rat poison. It was a logical conclusion. If a substance is potent enough to paralyze the nervous system, it will kill a human using the same principle as it kills a rat. Historically, almost every powerful neurotoxin has been used as a pesticide or rat poison—strychnine being the most prominent, followed by arsenic, thallium, and so on. The rat poisons that defined their eras were always repurposed for human poisoning. Though, for the sake of efficiency, they had gradually been replaced by anticoagulants, the history of rat poison remained inextricably linked to neurotoxins.
‘The question is, how did the child ingest a substance used in rat poison?’
There were three main possibilities. First, accidental contamination in the kitchen while handling rat poison. But this hypothesis had a flaw: it couldn't explain why the adults were perfectly fine while only the child was affected. Rat poison doesn't selectively target baby food. So, that hypothesis was dismissed. Second, someone secretly spiked the food with poison. This was also unlikely. According to the Count’s investigation, the six families shared no common wet nurses or midwives, and their food sources were all different. It wasn't for nothing that they had ruled out poisoning and suspected a curse.
That left the third possibility.
‘Honestly, this feels like the right one.’
Without needing to deduce it, I had suspected this third possibility from the very beginning. But a doctor must always think in terms of Evidence. No matter how likely something seemed, one shouldn't draw a conclusion without proof. Therefore, I needed evidence.
‘Checking the kitchen myself would be the fastest way.’
I closed my notebook and stood up. "Count."
The Count, who had been standing by the window, turned around. "Since Tina has just recovered, I believe it would be best to be cautious with her diet for the time being. To that end, I would like to inspect the food in the kitchen and help you select items that must be avoided."
"...Is food that important?"
"Babies who have just suffered from convulsions have weakened muscles, making their ability to swallow extremely poor. In the worst-case scenario, they might not be able to swallow properly and could choke."
Of course, this was also true. After a seizure, babies are forbidden from eating anything that could cause choking, including peanuts. The Count, sensing the rationality in my words, gave his immediate consent. "Thank you. I will have a maid accompany you."
The Count called a maid and pointed to me. "Guide this person to the kitchen. Show them everything they need."
"Understood, Master."
I picked up my medical bag and followed the maid out of the room. When my father, who was standing in the hallway, asked where I was going, I told him I was heading down to check on the baby’s diet. I followed the maid to the first floor. The kitchen of the Belheim estate was spacious—twice the size of our own, and even equipped with a modern oven. I’d love to try cooking in a place like this. Naturally, I didn't forget my position. Suppressing my rising culinary desires, I searched the kitchen thoroughly. First, I checked for the location of the rat poison.
"Do you keep rat poison in this kitchen?"
"No. The Countess ordered all rat poison to be removed from the kitchen after the baby was born."
"Then where is the rat poison stored?"
"In the basement warehouse. It’s on a different floor than the kitchen."
As expected, the first hypothesis was out. It was common sense that rat poison is dangerous, regardless of the era. Next, I checked the food the baby was eating.
"Could you show me what you feed the child?"
The maid opened the pantry and began placing ingredients on the counter one by one: barley flour, honey, distilled water, and a small ceramic jar containing dried chamomile flowers.
"These are ingredients for rice gruel and honey water."
"Yes."
"Hmm. Honey is unrelated to this incident, but please, do not feed the child honey until she is over one year old."
"Pardon? Is honey dangerous?"
"Yes. Honey can be poisonous to infants. Please make sure to inform the Count as well."
"Understood, Doctor."
While honey was present, it had nothing to do with this incident. A baby could die from honey, but the symptoms would be completely different. Tina’s symptoms were a case of hypertonia, where the muscles were excessively rigid, whereas honey-related symptoms involve hypotonia, where the muscles lack strength. In other words, it was unrelated to this case.
"Is this everything the child eats?"
"Pardon? Yes. For now..."
"Then, are there any special medicines the child takes?"
"Hmm... if it's medicine, the head maid would know."
The head maid. That meant she was likely the person who spent the most time with the baby.
"Could you call the head maid?"
A moment later, a woman who looked to be in her forties came down to the kitchen. True to her title, she was neatly dressed, with sharp, piercing eyes.
"I heard there is medicine you feed the child."
"Yes. We have a medicine we use whenever our young lady suffers from colic."
I knew it. Colic. That’s what they call infantile colic in this world. Infantile colic isn't a particularly serious condition. It’s a symptom where a newborn cries as if in agony every night for no apparent reason, and it usually resolves on its own after four months. It requires no special treatment; it’s just a condition where you encourage the parents to hang in there. And I knew the medicine used for these colicky infants.
"Are you using star anise?"
"Oh? How did you know?"
"By any chance, is the Count from the western or eastern part of the Empire?"
"The west."
"I see. It’s a medicine often used in the west as a substitute for anise, which is commonly given to babies."
"Yes, that’s right!"
The head maid looked at me with wonder. I felt my shoulders puff up with pride for the first time in a while. Lately, the people around me had started reacting to my deductions as if they were obvious, so I’d been losing the joy of the chase.
‘This is why I do detective work.’
Regardless, I had fully grasped the full extent of the incident. Star anise. This little thing was the culprit.
‘Star anise—no doctor could be unaware of this.’
In the early 2000s, there was a similar incident in Europe. The story goes like this: in Europe, particularly in places like Spain, there was a folk remedy of boiling a herb called ‘anise’ for babies suffering from colic. At some point, Chinese star anise, which was cheaper and had a similar scent, began to replace it. The problem was that Westerners didn't know there were two types of star anise: the Chinese star anise used as a spice, and the Japanese star anise (poisonous star anise) used as rat poison. Once dried and crushed, the two are indistinguishable to the naked eye. Merchants from ‘a certain country’ who supplied the Chinese star anise exploited this. To lower costs, they secretly replaced the Chinese star anise with the Japanese variety. As a result, newborns across Europe were collectively poisoned by rat poison. The aftermath of the incident was so great that it even changed pediatric textbooks. It taught doctors to stop using strange folk remedies for colic and simply reassure the parents. Since it’s a disease that heals on its own anyway, there’s no need to feed them strange things.
‘Doctors, especially pediatricians, couldn't possibly not know this.’
It was a major incident that even made it into toxicology textbooks. If I had been a doctor back then, I couldn't have missed it. Well, young doctors might not know it... wait, I was a young doctor. Damn it.
Anyway. The same thing was happening in this world. I bowed my head to the head maid and said, "Thank you. This was a great help. Please stick to breast milk and barley gruel for the child’s diet, remove the honey for the time being, and stop the star anise tea until I tell you otherwise."
"The star anise tea, too? Why..."
"Immediately after a seizure, the digestive system is weakened, so it is safer to remove anything that could be a stimulant."
It wasn't a lie. I just hadn't told her everything. Even if it weren't poisonous star anise, regular star anise is a burden on a baby who has just had a seizure. As the head maid nodded, I left the kitchen. And as I climbed the stairs, I thought:
‘I found the culprit.’
Star anise is the cause. I even have a hunch about how the distribution happened. But the problem is what comes next. How do I tell the parents?
‘This Count’s family is at least better off.’
Because the baby lived. If they find out the truth, their hearts will sink, but that will be the extent of it. But what about the five families who already lost their children?
‘The tea you brewed killed your child.’
Is there any parent who could accept those words? They would probably just drag it out further through factional fighting. Because they can't accept that they were the sinners, they will rationalize it by insisting there was a curse. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to live with themselves.
‘How do I deliver this?’
What I lack in these moments is authority. It’s something Julian, who has just entered high society, and my father, who is merely a Baron, lack.
‘Still, I have to tell my father, at least.’
How to handle the truth would be his burden. I was lost in such thoughts when I entered the second-floor hallway. From the floor below, the sound of many footsteps began to ascend the stairs. I heard a servant’s voice.
"The Inspector has arrived."
The Inspector. The one my father mentioned at breakfast. Since a sixth victim had suddenly appeared, they must have arrived later than us because they were coming from the Imperial Palace. My father emerged from the end of the second-floor hallway. He looked at the stairs, then at me, and gave a short nod. It meant I should greet them together. I stood beside my father.
Creak, creak. The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs drew closer, and two shadows were cast upon the hallway. The first to appear was a man in his mid-fifties. He had neatly combed gray hair, a black coat with the Inspector’s emblem, and countless scars etched into his bulging forearms.
"Hendel, Judicial Officer. You were here first."
"I had to see the child first."
My father gripped the Inspector’s hand and bowed his waist. Seeing my father bow and defer, it was clear the man held a much higher rank. Though, that was to be expected. The Inspector’s primary duty is to investigate corruption among nobles or mediate disputes between them. Naturally, no mere amateur could hold such a position; the Inspector’s authority was comparable to that of a Duke’s house.
"I understand. So, how is this child?"
"My son saved them."
"That child?"
The Inspector’s gaze turned toward me. I bowed to show my respects. "I am Julian Nihilit."
The Inspector stroked his chin and scanned me from head to toe. He seemed intrigued. "You did what three healing priests couldn't?"
"I was lucky."
The corners of the Inspector’s mouth rose slightly. "Humility is the virtue of the incompetent, and the vanity of the capable. Which one are you?"
"I believe that is for history to judge, not me."
"Hah. I like that answer."
The Inspector chuckled. Then, he turned back and gestured. "Come in."
Another person climbed the stairs. Hidden behind the Inspector’s frame was a girl around my age. The first thing that caught my eye was her golden hair. Her hair, which looked like pressed wheat fields, was tied with a sky-blue ribbon. The girl was wearing a navy cape. The attire visible beneath the cape was that of a noble lady, but it was functionally simplified. As soon as I saw her, the thought that crossed my mind was...
‘A detective?’
Yes. That was the perfect description for a typical detective look. If she were just biting on a pipe, she’d be the complete package of a genius detective with a mental quirk. The eyes that had been scanning the small notebook in her hand turned toward me. Golden eyes lazily swept over me. Soon, the girl opened her mouth.
"What kind of patients are usually found in the Limbus Pit’s D-Sector?"
......
The hallway fell silent. The Inspector rubbed his forehead. "Charlotte, I’ve told you repeatedly not to start with that."
The Inspector patted Charlotte’s shoulder and bowed slightly to me. "I apologize, Young Master Nihilit. My child is a bit eccentric."
"It is quite alright."
Despite the Inspector’s apologetic gaze, I shook my head. It was because I could tell at a glance what kind of character this girl was. From the name Charlotte and the detective attire, I had already guessed as much. Thus, despite the girl’s opening line, I wasn't particularly flustered. Instead, I smiled brightly at her.
"Were there traces left on my body? As a doctor, I pride myself on washing thoroughly."
Light flickered in the girl’s lazy eyes. Her pupils dilated slightly. "...Usually, people get offended when I do this upon first meeting."
"Is there any reason to be offended?"
"Because my family is an Inspector’s house. People think their information is leaking, or that they’ve been inspected. Or they think they’ve been spied on by magic."
"Well. I think differently."
I rolled up my sleeves and showed her. "Extremely developed observation and deduction are no different from prophecy. So, did you deduce I was a healer from my father’s words just now, and that I work in the Limbus Pit from the color difference between the back of my hands and my palms?"
"Surprising. I only thought you were a healer who went down to the Limbus Pit—are you working some other side job?"
"No, nothing like that. I do similar work, you see. Reading the traces left on a patient’s body to find invisible diseases. Since our methodology is the same, shouldn't it be expected?"
The girl’s face brightened. Her lazy gaze was now sparkling. "You must be a highly skilled healer."
"It’s a mediocre talent. So, Young Lady, was my deduction correct?"
No sooner had I finished speaking than the young lady began to reel off her deductions as if she had been waiting for this moment.
"Yes. First, the color difference between the back of your hands and your palms that you mentioned. There is pigmentation between reddish-brown and yellowish-brown on your neck and the back of your hands. This level of staining doesn't occur from the air of Sanctum Hill. It only appears if you regularly go outside the red copper walls, and quite deep into the sectors at that."
"But I wash my hands often. And I wear a mask."
"That’s why the color was different only in those two areas."
Her gaze then shifted to my feet. "I deduced the D-Sector from the animal fats stuck to your shoes."
"Ah, the welt color of my shoes has changed."
"That’s right. You seem to frequent slaughterhouses, and there’s a lot of blood and grease stuck there."
"Indeed, no matter how much one polishes their shoes every day, such traces are bound to remain in the seams of the welts. Excellent deduction, Lady Charlotte."
At my praise, the young lady smiled brightly. "It’s just basic, Young Master Nihilit."
"Indeed. Basic deduction."
At my reply, she offered a handshake with a subtle smile. I took her delicate hand in mine. "I am Julian Schnabel Nihilit."
"I am Charlotte von Hausen."
The Inspector, who had been watching this, looked on with astonishment. "My goodness... Charlotte actually initiated a handshake first."
Seeing the earlier greeting and her reaction, I could roughly tell what kind of character this Lady Charlotte was. The name Charlotte Hausen. The deductive power to read traces on a body upon first meeting. The social skills that made the Inspector react like that. Anyone with enough experience in web novels would know exactly who this character was modeled after.
‘What on earth was the original work?’
No, I could accept mixing magic with steampunk and medicine. But mixing in Sherlock Holmes too? ‘This misunderstanding story has artistic character placement.’
If so, here is the question. The protagonist of the original work—that is, ‘me’—is a doctor character. And the girl in front of me is modeled after Sherlock Holmes. Then, according to genre conventions, what would my role be?
‘I was Watson all along.’
With this, I was certain. What kind of character Julian Schnabel was in the original. ‘As expected, the protagonist of a misunderstanding story must be an ordinary citizen.’ A doctor with mediocre skills, as diligent as the average doctor, and a bit fond of gambling. Aside from the last part, it wasn't much different from who I was now.