chapter 9

"Hey, senior."

"What's up? What's wrong with you? Are you in pain?"

It's not that I'm in pain, it's just that in this world, there aren't only white people, but also people of the yellow race.

"India... I don't think you're from India, are you?"

At least he figured out I'm not from India.

Actually, what worries me in London is that these people might think I'm from India.

Of course, the upper class in India has been loyal to England for a long time, and many come here to study.

Among them, of course, there are many who are more arrogant than the British themselves.

But me... I don't look like that, do I?

So I was worried, but the senior who hurt his hand surprisingly noticed the difference in my face.

"Yes, I'm from Joseon. How did you know?"

"Ah, my family does trade. Well, not exactly my family, but my uncle's family. Anyway, I just had a feeling."

Ah, so you're into trade.

That's why he seems a bit less prejudiced.

He treats me like a stranger, but not like I'm some kind of object.

Well, if it's like this, I guess I should save him.

Though I'm not sure if he'll survive.

"Ah, yes. But didn't you get hurt during practice?"

"Yeah. But... it doesn't look like it's that bad. I'm fine."

Don't say that.

Don't say you're fine...

You're going to die, man.

But what should I say?

What should I say to make him get treatment?

"In Joseon, we say..."

"Yeah?"

Actually, before I came here, after witnessing that shocking amputation, I asked the adults about the state of medicine at this time.

It's astonishing.

They have no common sense.

No, in some ways, it seems like they've regressed compared to the Middle Ages or ancient times.

These so-called scientists, the doctors, are so closed-minded.

Rather than half-baked medical knowledge, it might be better to just sell Joseon, you know?

"There are professions that handle corpses. Don't you have them here too?"

"Of course we do. But why? Our purpose is different from theirs."

Usually, if you don't know much, you tend to look down on professions that deal with corpses.

This guy seemed to think the same way, making a face.

If I get angry, things might get worse, so I quickly continued.

"People in those professions... if they hurt their hands, they don't work."

"Huh?"

"There's a superstition that if a corpse touches a wound, you'll die."

"Ah, what are you talking about? Is this some kind of superstition? Are you saying I'll be cursed or something?"

"No, no."

Damn it.

He made me look like some superstitious person in an instant.

I'm a person baptized by 21st-century science, you know.

The structure of my brain is different from yours.

"Through the wound, the corpse's..."

But since the other person knows so little, it's hard to explain.

Bacteria?

In an era where the concept of microorganisms doesn't exist, if I start talking about that...

-"Burn the child of Satan!"

-"He's Satan from the East!"

I might become the main character of an unexpected London festival.

"That... bad energy."

"Hmm."

The word I struggled to find was 'energy,' and I regretted it as soon as I said it.

But surprisingly, the senior's face became serious when he heard about 'energy.'

Maybe it's because, at this time, hospitals seriously talk about how bad air or underground water can cause illness.

Anyway, it worked.

'LF th...'

Did that really work?

At this rate, if I get hit by a truck again, can I go back?

I thought about it seriously for a moment, but since I've already come back to life against all odds, I decided I should live properly.

My way of thinking has already gone through several loops, so it didn't take long.

"Corpses emit bad energy. If you think about it, isn't that obvious?"

"Hmm. That does sound reasonable."

Reasonable, my ass...

Using the word 'energy' like this is anything but reasonable.

Contrary to my thoughts, I put on the most serious face in the world, brushed back my mysterious black hair, and continued.

"So, first, wash your hands quickly. I've seen someone die after touching a corpse with a wounded hand..."

I've never seen that.

In 21st-century Korea, even non-medical professionals have received higher education, so they're careful.

Besides, in our great Korea, we have antibiotics, right?

Even if you look down on penicillin, we have much stronger stuff, so you can't die from touching a corpse even if you want to.

'Turn, my brain!'

How should I explain this!

"First, the wound will turn red and start to swell."

"Hmm."

"Then you'll get a fever... your body will swell, and you'll lose consciousness. Eventually, you'll die."

"Ah... I see. So what... what should I do?"

I imagined what would happen if the wound wasn't treated and led to sepsis.

Fortunately, the eternal truth that detailed lies work well held true even in 19th-century England.

"First, wash your hands."

"Wash?"

"Ah... I mean, scrub them under running water."

Is it real that you don't even know what washing hands means?

You bastard... You've been in medical school for at least a year or two, right?

Anyway, the senior, scared by the black-haired Asian talking about 'energy,' quickly got up and headed outside.

'Not going to the bathroom... where are you going?'

Well, actually, getting water isn't that easy.

There's tap water, but it doesn't flow well.

And it's not clean.

It's basically water from the Thames River, which is full of sewage.

In Upton, you can drink river water, but here...

'We boil it, but will that work?'

I followed the senior, worried, and saw him stick his hand into the fountain in the middle of the university.

"Senior...?"

"Yeah?"

Can't you tell by looking at the fountain water?

It's dirty.

No, you can tell even before looking.

It smells.

"Running water. Isn't this it?"

Ah, my bad.

My mistake.

Running water...

Yeah, I shouldn't have said it like that.

"Well... just wait a bit."

"Okay. Sure."

I think my eyes might have rolled a bit, but for some reason, the senior became obedient.

No, maybe he's a bit scared?

It's hard to tell.

The power of a black-haired Asian shouldn't be this strong.

Anyway, I decided it was a good thing for now.

I can ask about the details later.

Saving a life is the most important thing right now.

Thinking that, I boiled the water to filter out impurities.

"You're going to pour this?"

"No, you have to let it cool first. If you pour it like this... you'll get burned."

"Ah, right. Sure."

"But..."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you so proactive? I mean, we just met today, right?"

"Ah."

At my words, the senior hesitated for a moment, then whispered.

"Well... the symptoms you mentioned earlier... my friend died like that."

"What? Died?"

"Not just my friend... a few people die like that every year."

"What... what are you talking about?"

"You didn't know? Medical students sometimes die like that. I thought it was just bad air here. Quite a few students from our medical school have died."

"Of..."

I see.

People are dying, and they're still making them do these practices.

These lunatics...

Even if we give them the benefit of the doubt, saying it's an era with limited knowledge and forward-thinking is impossible.

But if they call themselves scientists, shouldn't they at least be capable of backward-thinking?

If people keep dying here, shouldn't they figure out why?

"But it's not the air, it's the energy, huh?"

"Ah."

I almost became the junior who slaps the senior.

Well, in this atmosphere, it might be okay to hit him...

"But is this enough washing?"

"Hmm. No. You need to scrub harder. It'll hurt, but can you handle it?"

"To get rid of the energy?"

"..."

I still hadn't found a better word than 'energy,' so I nodded.

Then I scrubbed the senior's wound area hard with the boiled water.

"Ah... ah. It's bleeding."

"The energy is coming out with the blood."

"Ah. Wow... I see. But it's just red?"

"If the energy were visible, would people die so helplessly?"

"Ah, right. If it were visible..."

I unconsciously looked around.

I was worried someone might be watching.

But this is 19th-century London, and the people I know haven't even been born yet.

No, I'm not even sure if it's the same Earth.

There are theories about parallel universes, right?

"And do you have alcohol?"

"Alcohol? Why? Does drinking alcohol help?"

"Distilled alcohol is good for cleaning wounds."

"Alcohol...? You mean the stuff we use to light fires?"

"Ah, if you have that, it's even better."

Of course, directly rubbing alcohol on a wound isn't a great idea.

Alcohol disinfects well, but it also damages tissues.

If you rub it directly, the surrounding tissue will probably suffer permanent damage.

But that's still better.

Otherwise, you'll die.

Unfortunately, there's no alcohol right now, so I kept pouring boiled water to disinfect.

"Ah, ahhh!"

"Does it hurt?"

"Ah, it hurts!"

"Think of it as the energy screaming."

"Ah... this energy is really strong!"

"Right? But this way, you can survive. It might not work in one go, so we'll do this every day."

"This... every day?"

"Yes. And be careful not to let anything touch it, especially that water."

"Ah, okay."

Maybe the shock of his friend's death made the senior listen well.

No, not just well—even after returning to the classroom, he wouldn't leave me alone while studying with Joseph.

Wondering why he was acting like this, I looked at him, and he suddenly spoke.

"Hey, if it's not too much, I'd like to invite both of you."

"Invite?"

"Yeah, to my house."

He must be really anxious.

Wanting to keep an Asian exorcist close by.

"Where's your house?"

"Huh? Ah, Kensington."

"Let's go."

What goes around comes around.

So I asked where his house was, and he said Kensington.

In Seoul terms, that's like Gangnam, no, Cheongdam or Apgujeong level?

No, no, that's too common.

'Hannam-dong... more like UN Village.'

Our senior is rich.

I want to sleep there too.

Our boarding house is hell.

"Huh? You're going?"

Innocent Joseph blinked, but that wasn't important.

"Let's go. To Kensington."

"Sure, whatever."

This guy does whatever I say.

He's a good kid.

"Then, shall we go now?"

The senior seemed nice too.

No, maybe he's a pushover.

Or maybe my mysterious Asian concept is working.

Maybe I should create a god or something.

Or a fan?

Yeah, a fan.

That's good.