Chapter 113 – School Opening (3)

There are few Koreans who do not know of Nightingale.

From childhood, she has been praised in countless biographies as the White Angel, the Lady with the Lamp, and the godmother of modern nursing.

And there are just as few enthusiasts who do not know about her personality.

Her stories are so well-known that even future games have faithfully portrayed her character, to the point where even her descendants would acknowledge it.

The only real surprise was that she carried a pistol instead of a hammer.

That wasn't a historical inaccuracy? No, more importantly...

I was at a loss for words and asked,

"Uh, may I ask one question?"

"Go ahead."

"Why is it that unclean hands are unacceptable, but a gun is?"

"What do you mean?"

With unwavering confidence, Lady Nightingale raised her pistol toward the ceiling.

And then—

Click.

A hollow, almost pitiful sound echoed from the revolver, mirroring my own sense of bewilderment.

"..."

"Of course, it's empty. Who in their right mind would fire gunpowder in a hospital?"

"Ah… I see."

She really refuses to lose an argument, doesn't she?

In some ways, I was impressed that she was just as I had imagined. Lady Nightingale...!

Well, in any case, cleanliness is important, as she said. So, I began scrubbing my hands with soap and water.

I washed them thoroughly.

By-the-book, in six steps.

"Oh..."

She watched me with evident interest.

What now? She told me to wash my hands—why is she looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong again?

"You wash your hands quite meticulously."

"Uh, well… you can see that?"

"I can make out the silhouette. And I can hear it clearly."

The berserker with a pistol—no, the Lady with the Lamp—spoke slowly.

"Anyway, Hanslow Jin. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Ahem. Yes, I can guess why."

I steadied myself, appreciating her direct approach.

"It's about the lead poisoning case, isn't it?"

"That's right."

Her unfocused eyes gleamed as she answered.

Well, of course.

What other reason would the Iron Nurse, the embodiment of hygiene, have to take an interest in a mere writer like me?

"How did you know? That lead was dangerous?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

I took a deep breath, keeping my composure.

"Lady Nightingale, were you already aware of the dangers of lead poisoning?"

"How could I not be?"

And then, she looked… bitter.

"When you've been on the battlefield, you have no choice but to know. It's a place where rusted lead is scattered everywhere without restraint."

I could only nod. After all, bullets were one of the most common uses of lead.

"But at the same time, it was one of the hardest places to gather data."

"War zones are places where death is expected at any moment. I understand."

It's hard to prove whether someone died from lead poisoning or something else entirely.

Though it's a crude comparison, I've served in the military myself.

There's a reason people say coming back unharmed is already a victory.

"Of course, claiming to understand you because of my own meager experiences would be arrogant."

"The intensity of experience doesn't matter. What matters is sincerity."

Anyway, Lady Nightingale shifted the conversation back on track.

"So, even though I wanted to stop lead exposure, I couldn't. I assume you can guess why?"

"Yes."

Her words just now had already answered the question.

Conventionally, Nightingale is known as a pioneer who, armed with her aristocratic status, broke through many barriers that were either taboo or looked down upon for women of her time.

But logically speaking… would that have still applied when even greater vested interests were at play?

That's exactly what lead was.

The nation's key industries could never be free from parliamentary lobbying, and lead was a business entangled with major corporations to such an extent that it was practically unavoidable.

I had gone into this fight with some level of confidence, but in reality, it was no different from throwing an egg at a rock.

Originally, I planned to delay things under the pretext of adding more case studies, first halting the acceleration of lead use and then gradually implementing improvements over several years.

But the way the bill passed so quickly, far beyond my expectations, was truly astonishing.

Even minor legal amendments usually take ages to go through, don't they? This felt as if some deus ex machina had intervened.

"That's why I wanted to thank you… and ask you something else."

How did I know about lead? And how did I manage to push through a regulatory bill?

Nightingale had asked me, but, well…

"Honestly, there's not much I can say in response."

I mean, it couldn't be helped. The only reason I had prior knowledge about lead was simply because it was common sense.

Heavy metal contamination is a frequent topic—how could I not know about lead?

Naturally, my answer could only remain vague.

"Uh, I don't know if you've heard, but I wasn't the first to raise concerns about lead."

"I have heard. A physician from the Royal Society of Edinburgh wrote the first paper on it, didn't he?"

"Yes. I was asked for help by that physician, and I simply assisted because I believed his concerns were justified."

"I understand. But it was you who successfully pushed it forward to this point, wasn't it?"

Well… when she put it like that, I had no real rebuttal.

"That's what matters more to me."

"Are you saying you need a bill introduced?"

"That's part of it. But more than that, I believe the public engagement strategy you employed was highly effective."

Wait, hold on. That's a bit much. Public engagement strategy? What am I, Goebbels?

I just wrote what I knew from my novels and happened to participate in a discussion.

I couldn't help but be dumbfounded.

"Don't misunderstand me. I'm not accusing you of manipulating public opinion or anything of the sort."

"Th-Then what are you saying?"

"It's simple. Just like telling people to wash their hands… Perhaps your generation doesn't know this, but when I was younger, Ignaz Semmelweis (1818–1865) was treated like a lunatic and met a miserable end in an asylum."

Uh… I have no idea who that is. I know Edelweiss, but not Semmelweis.

Fortunately, Lady Nightingale explained that he was the obstetrician who strongly advocated for handwashing among doctors, only to be ostracized by the medical community.

"Ah, that story? I do know about it. So that was him."

"Yes. The reason the entire medical establishment of his time fiercely opposed his claims was simple. The leading figures of the medical field, unwilling to see their theories disproven, used their authority to suppress the fact that simply washing hands could eradicate puerperal fever."

Is that so…?

From what I remember from internet discussions, Semmelweis was also an extremely combative figure who, instead of persuading others, lashed out and branded fellow doctors as 'murderers,' making too many enemies and ultimately being buried by history.

Now that I think about it, Lady Nightingale seems to have a very similar personality.

So… is this a sense of kinship?

"Alright, I understand what you mean. Well, in my time, too, some idiots refused to wear masks during an epidemic and became laughingstocks."

"Exactly."

Nightingale nodded in agreement.

"What I need is that kind of strong public influence. If you find that phrasing uncomfortable, let's call it a promotional ability instead."

"I see what you mean."

However, I shook my head.

"I think it's a valid point, and I do believe it holds some significance."

"Is that so? Then—"

"But instead of approaching it the way you're thinking, wouldn't it be better to pursue something a bit different?"

Essentially, product placement, right?

It's an incredibly common tactic. But that doesn't mean it's easy.

It could be done in literature, but it would be tricky. I had never attempted it before.

With the lead issue, I had acted on instinct, so it worked out. But in writing, you can't just force something in consciously.

Creativity doesn't work like assembling a machine.

It's the same in reality—things turn out awkward when you force product placements, like those bizarre scenes where someone is drinking red ginseng while reclining in a massage chair in the middle of a revenge plot.

"With the lead issue, Arthur Conan Doyle and I resolved it through a discussion, but that was simply part of what we do—communicating through writing. We're writers, after all."

"Is this a sense of professional duty? Or a matter of specialization? Fine. That's an area I'm not familiar with, so I'll respect that."

Thankfully, Lady Nightingale nodded in acknowledgment.

Huh, perhaps because she's a true professional in her field, she doesn't overstep into others.

Good. If she's willing to take that stance, I can also make a counter-proposal on my end.

"In that case, if you don't mind, I have a request of my own."

"I see a request. Come to think of it, I never did ask why you wanted to meet me."

"Haha…"

Well, that's because you pointed a gun at me out of nowhere. Luckily, it was an empty magazine.

Anyway.

"The truth is, I'm managing a children's welfare foundation alongside the writer Lewis Carroll."

"Hmm. I've heard of it. The Alice and Peter Foundation, correct?"

"Yes. We're planning to open a school soon, but… while we have enough students, we're short on teachers."

"Ah, I see."

Perhaps because she had more experience establishing schools than I did, Lady Nightingale nodded in understanding almost immediately.

"You're hoping to fill those teaching positions with our nurses or instructors from the nursing school, aren't you?"

"Exactly."

I nodded.

Of course, the subjects they teach might be different. But think about it—high school graduates were more than capable of teaching elementary school students, weren't they? It was just a matter of organizing the curriculum flexibly.

Besides, was there any institution in this era that could produce better nursing instructors than Nightingale's School of Nursing? I could say with certainty—there wasn't.

And on top of that—

"Our foundation also has a contract with Elliott Steel Company. High school graduates interested in the field have the opportunity to join the company as contracted workers."

"Hmm, I see what you're getting at. You mentioned the students are from the East End slums?"

"Yes. However, unlike those heading into the steel industry, which requires hands-on training, those pursuing nursing school will need—"

"—sufficient preparatory education beforehand."

Lady Nightingale and I exchanged knowing smiles.

In other words, I was proposing a similar agreement to the one I had with Neville Chamberlain of Elliott Steel, but this time with Nightingale.

Nursing school instructors would teach at our high school, and in turn, high school students influenced by them would go on to pursue nursing.

And if, by chance, I could also gain the patronage of Baron Burney, who had introduced me to Lady Nightingale, along with the support of her wealthy family?

That would create a perfect cycle.

On top of that, our school was located in Whitechapel, East End—still a poverty-stricken area.

Even with ongoing redevelopment, the core reality remained the same. Conditions had improved, but people's mindsets and daily lives didn't change overnight.

Her connections would be a tremendous asset in the area's development.

Strengthening the power of the community itself—I wanted to encourage that.

"I like it. This aligns with my thoughts as well."

It seemed Lady Nightingale found my proposal appealing. She had dedicated her life to improving sanitation and public health, after all.

With a soft smile, she responded.

"Very well. I'll contact our school."

"Thank you, Lady Nightingale."

As she reached out in the wrong direction for a handshake, I deliberately followed her movement and clasped her hand.

"I look forward to working with you, young business partner."