chapter 7: You Guys Shouldn’t Do That.

"OOOOO!"

The patient I had seen earlier was now under the bed.

He was trembling, drenched in cold sweat.

"He seems to have a really high fever."

It was a situation that would scare anyone who wasn't a doctor.

Because the person was shaking.

But I was different.

As I've said many times, I've seen patients in worse conditions than this.

Being a surgery professor in South Korea is no ordinary job.

So I calmly tried to approach, but there was a commotion behind me.

"Hey! What are you doing!"

No, he shouted.

I turned around and saw a chubby middle-aged man standing with a group of men.

"Ah, I'm a student here."

"A student? I haven't seen you before."

"I just enrolled today."

"Enrolled. Ah, right. Today's the day for new students. Well, your initiative is admirable, but step aside for now. A real doctor needs to examine him."

"Ah, yes."

It seemed he was the doctor, Zemel or whatever.

He had studied abroad in Paris, I think.

In the 21st century, South Korea's medical field was far ahead of France's, but what about now?

'It's gotta be better than London, damn it.'

I looked at Zemel with desperate eyes.

Zemel, like a skilled doctor, approached the patient without hesitation.

"You're sweating a lot. That's a good sign."

Then, in a calm tone, he spouted nonsense.

'Why is sweating a good sign...??'

The sweat on this patient wasn't from exercise or heat; it was cold sweat.

Just off the top of my head, there were several causes for cold sweat.

Cancer, serious infections like malaria, metabolic disorders, and so on.

Even if you tried to see it positively, it couldn't be a good sign.

"He said his stomach hurts, right?"

"Yes."

Anyway, Zemel continued to ask his assistant in a calm voice.

The patient was right there, but he didn't ask the patient; he asked the assistant.

I thought it was a rather innovative way of diagnosing.

"Does it hurt here?"

"AAAAAH!"

Then he just pressed the patient's stomach.

You're supposed to position yourself properly and press to know for sure.

It seemed that kind of common sense hadn't become widespread yet.

"It's very hard. The flesh is clumped up."

Anyway, Zemel sighed and shook his head.

"Bring that over."

He gave an order to the assistant.

The assistant ran off and returned with a menacing-looking tool.

He also brought something like a bowl, but it didn't look like it was made for a good purpose.

But since surgical tools all looked like that back then, I decided to watch just in case.

Joseph did the same.

"Wow... that's cool."

His thoughts were completely different.

No, Joseph.

Saying stuff like that isn't cool.

Was there anything medical in what Zemel just said?

He's just calmly spouting nonsense.

"There's too much blood pooled here, so we'll drain some of it."

I thought I misheard.

Drain blood?

Why drain blood from a sick person?

This isn't an era where tests are possible.

"Here, stab here."

While I was in disbelief, Zemel pointed at the patient's stomach with a sharp tool.

It didn't seem like there was any anatomical consideration.

He was just pointing randomly.

"That's not right."

Without thinking, I said that.

"What's not right?"

Luckily, only Joseph heard me.

Zemel and the assistants were too busy moving around to hear my muttering.

"No... why drain blood?"

"It's common sense."

"Huh?"

"If there's a painful area, you drain blood. The blood is pooled there, so that's why."

"OL...."

That common sense is twisted.

Now that patient is going to die......

Thud—

Regardless of my thoughts, Zemel stabbed the patient's stomach.

I wondered if he even cleaned that needle.

'Probably not. He's probably going to spout some nonsense about experience or whatever.'

So, this patient, who already has inflammation in his stomach, just got stabbed with a contaminated needle.

Isn't that just murder?

"Ah, today's not your lucky day."

"Maybe it's because he didn't drink alcohol?"

Meanwhile, the amputation seemed to be completely over, as the hallway became noisy.

At the front stood Dr. Robert Liston, holding a knife.

His assistant was chattering beside him.

"Anyway, since we've received the donation, we'll dissect that patient soon."

"Yes. We'll deliver condolences to the family."

"Good, do that."

Ah, he's dead.

That patient from earlier is dead.

Honestly, this was expected.

Expecting someone to endure that kind of surgery without anesthesia was the mistake.

"Huh? Those two over there are my students, right?"

While I was thinking that, Liston continued.

He had apparently spotted us.

"Ah, Dr. Zemel."

I thought we'd get scolded, but luckily, he walked past us toward Zemel.

They seemed to be on good terms.

"Dr. Liston."

"Bloodletting?"

"Yes."

"I see."

The two experts continued their casual conversation while the patient was dying.

"Stomach pain, you said?"

"Yes. He's been hospitalized for about a week..... but he's not getting better."

"Ah..... then you should try bloodletting."

"Right."

No, that wasn't a casual conversation.

There wasn't a single proper statement in there.

First of all, the fact that he's been here for a week in this condition is already unacceptable.

Even if we assume that IVs aren't possible in this era, shouldn't they have at least given him some herbal medicine?

"Did you use opium?"

"Of course. But when the effect wears off, he's in pain."

"otot."

Ah, they gave him opium......

No wonder the patient's pupils looked dilated.

These damn bastards.

"Bloodletting is an important part of treatment...... Can our students watch?"

"Of course! But is that yellow guy really your student?"

"Ah, yes. He's guaranteed by the Lister family."

"Ah. That Lister. I see. Their alcohol tastes good."

The two bastards graciously gave us the precious opportunity to witness a murder scene.

I didn't feel grateful.

No, I just found it too horrifying.

"Ugh... ugh."

The patient was still in pain.

No, he seemed to be in more pain than before.

It was only natural since they drained his blood when he was already on the verge of death.

'I should endure, right?'

I wanted to step forward.

Of course, there was no guarantee that I could save the patient even if I stepped in.

I had no experience treating patients in a world without anesthesia or antibiotics.

'But even so, this is just wrong......'

However, I couldn't just stand there in silence while a horrifying murder scene unfolded before my eyes.

Right, didn't they say Westerners are good at discussions or something?

When I went to the US for training, I saw students asking questions with their hands in their pockets, right?

"Excuse me...."

That said, I didn't ask my question with my hands in my pockets either.

I stepped forward as politely as I could.

"Yes, what is it?"

Luckily, Dr. Liston seemed open-minded—or maybe it was because he had received a lot of money from our uncle and expected more—but he accepted my question.

"Um. Can I take a look at the patient too?"

"Huh? You just enrolled today, right?"

He gently implied, "What do you know?"

For someone who looked so intimidating, he was surprisingly gentle.

Or maybe my uncle just paid him a lot.

"..."

What excuse should I make?

"In Joseon, where I'm from....."

I was just pondering, but the words slipped out of my mouth.

Wait, why am I talking about Joseon?

"Ah?"

I was confused, so how much more confused must they be?

Especially Zemel, who seemed to be hearing the name "Joseon" for the first time, as his eyes widened.

"It's a country with over 600 years of history, so we do have some medical knowledge."

"Oh ho. Eastern medicine."

"Aren't they barbarians?"

There was a rude comment in there, but I continued.

"We've interacted with the Qing dynasty... so our level isn't that low."

"Oh, Qing."

"They're quite advanced, right?"

Right, I remembered something I heard back in high school.

Even though the Qing dynasty had already fallen, Europeans still thought highly of it due to long-standing prejudices, so I played up the Qing angle, and it seemed to work.

"Actually, it's more than that...... Do you know about ginseng?"

"No."

"Jinseng?"

"It's a medicine from Joseon. The Qing doesn't have it, so they can't use it. Joseon's medicine is better than the Qing's."

Maybe that's true?

We have figures like Heo Jun, after all.

Anyway, huh?

I'm better than you guys.

That's right. Actually, Pyeong is good at dissections too. Not humans, but... shrimp and frogs. I was curious where he learned it... Ah,

"Did you learn it in Joseon・・・ no? You were born here, right?"

Joseph also chimed in to support me.

It got a bit weird at the end, but that didn't matter.

"I heard my father worked as a medical assistant in Joseon."

A lie that's not far from the truth is hard to disprove.

"Let him take a look. It's not like the patient will wear out from being examined."

Liston's permission followed.

"Sure, if he has any points to make, that's good too."

Zemel pouted, but he nodded anyway.

Arrogant bastard.

Pouting while you're just doing bloodletting?

I thought that to myself, but I stepped forward with a polite attitude.

Then I spoke to the patient.

"Sir, could you lie down for a moment?"

"Get lost! You yellow bastard!"

2+....

Crossing the line.......

I'm trying to save you, and you're acting like this?

"Sir, please lie down. This guy isn't saying this for no reason."

"Ugh, ugh."

Is this a relief?

Before Joseph could step in, the patient was in too much pain to even properly resist.

So I laid the patient down on the floor and bent his knees.

Then I pulled up his clothes to examine his stomach.

'Damn it.....'

Now that I think about it, these bastards didn't even check his stomach before deciding to do bloodletting.

They just stabbed him and only looked at the area they stabbed?

It's such a mess that it's hard to even point out where it went wrong.

'At least it's not reddish yet.'

Looking at his stomach, I felt somewhat relieved.

Of course, confirming peritonitis with the naked eye is difficult.

But it hadn't spread to the point where I couldn't do anything.

"Where does it hurt the most?"

"My stomach! How many times do I have to say it!"

"No, the stomach has..... lower, middle, and upper parts. Which part hurts the most?"

"Uh...... lower?"

Lower, so right or left side?"

"Uh... right?"

Anyway, I continued asking questions.

I was so focused on the patient that I didn't notice the others' expressions.

In other words, I didn't see the strange fire that had begun to ignite in Joseph and Dr. Liston's eyes.