chapter 17

Maggots?

...

Even if you're lying, at least make it believable.

In a sacred hospital, maggots? Seriously?

'Anatomy lab... How far is it from here?'

Not too far.

Yeah, if you sniff hard enough here...

You can catch a faint whiff of decay.

"Damn it."

I cursed under my breath and reached behind my back.

Even though I didn't want to believe it, my hand touched something... damp.

"F***."

"This... it's real."

"Of course it's real. Why would I lie?"

As I looked at the maggot stuck to my hand, my senior spoke nonchalantly.

Joseph just watched.

Professor!

You can't let this happen, right?

"Well, that's where the patient was."

But Dr. Robert Liston seemed the most at ease among everyone.

No, should I say he treated it as normal?

'If there's something like this where a patient was... that's not right.'

Maybe he knew no one would dare argue with him.

Even as he said something that should've gotten him punched, he smiled.

He smiled?

He actually smiled?

What could I do?

I just nodded.

"Ah, yes."

I stood up, took off my coat, and checked the back.

There was a yellowish stain.

Ah.

It's pus...

At least my clothes were in better shape.

The bed, the one I was lying on, was a nightmare.

'Ugh...'

This is insane.

I'm losing my mind.

Seriously.

'Is this... all maggots??'

They were crawling all over, as if they'd been left to breed for a while.

What happened to the patient who was here?

Probably dead.

"A body was brought to the anatomy lab not long ago."

So, they're dead.

And they dissected them.

"This is the person I injured during the dissection."

It's been a week since the injury.

So, they left it like this for a week?

I looked around, feeling like I should protest.

But I couldn't glare at Dr. Liston, so I glared at the other two.

Of course, it didn't do any good.

Joseph's a newbie like me, and the senior is only a year ahead.

"Anyway... hmm."

I suddenly got up from the bed and thanked the professor.

I'm not sure what I'm thankful for, but you're supposed to thank professors, right?

Even if they give you work, you have to say "Thank you" before hanging up, or they get upset.

Even in the 19th century, it seems no different, and Robert Liston liked it.

"Alright, take care. Leave early today."

"Yes, professor. Thank you."

I kept thanking him until the end, and instead of going home, I headed to the obstetrics ward.

"???"

"???"

Joseph and Alfred both looked at me with question marks.

From their perspective, it was understandable.

'Lord... do they not know what they're doing?'

Feeling like Jesus, I opened my mouth.

"Let's check the condition of the wards."

"AFEH?"

"Our hospital is the best in London."

Bullsh*t.

That can't be true.

It shouldn't be.

"Does thinking we're the best... really help us improve?"

Anyway, I'm confident in speaking my mind.

I might not dare do it in front of someone like Liston, but in front of these two, I can say whatever I want.

"Hmm."

"Listening to you... it does make sense."

See?

It works.

"Let's see for ourselves. What's the thought process behind how the wards are set up and run. Understanding that... might help, right? Especially you, senior... your father might build a hospital for you someday."

"Ah, that's true."

Really?

You're really rich, senior.

Let's be friends.

"Let's go, then."

"You really are an insightful junior."

"Our Pyeong has been impressive since Upton."

I took my two wealthy friends—no, comrades—to the obstetrics ward.

As I saw earlier, the ward consisted of four rooms.

Each room had 30 beds.

Wow.

Even though it's my second time seeing it, the shock hasn't faded.

A 30-bed room? Seriously?

Are human rights not a consideration here?

"Shall we start here?"

I led them to the room where I saw the mother earlier.

I'm not sure if I was just startled earlier or if I didn't suspect anything, but...

As soon as we entered, a foul smell hit us.

I didn't cover my nose.

It would've been rude.

The two following me didn't either.

'They probably think enduring this is some kind of honor.'

But I thought differently.

I'd correct that eventually, even if it took time.

"Wait... why is the window so high up?"

The room was huge, but the ceiling was so high it felt grand.

It's almost a talent to make such a large, high space look dirty.

Anyway, I finally noticed the window was out of reach.

"I don't know."

Joseph couldn't answer.

"I know."

Alfred was different.

"The window used to be lower, but some mothers jumped from it."

"What? Why... why would they do that?"

"You're from Upton, and you're from a wealthy family, so you might not know... but the poor here are really desperate. Some commit suicide."

"Suicide?"

"Yeah."

""

Mothers committed suicide? That's horrific.

If something like that happened, they should've created welfare policies.

But they just moved the window higher?

'Typical 19th century...'

No matter what you imagine, this era always surpasses it.

It's truly the era of madmen.

'I'll... put this on hold.'

I'll tell the senior not to do this when he builds a hospital.

But for now, there's nothing I can do.

So, I decided to keep quiet.

Instead, I examined the beds.

They were filthy, even at a glance.

"This... isn't this changed?"

"Huh? No, it is."

"When?"

"When a patient is admitted... they bring their own. If they can't, they use the old one."

"Ah."

Wow.

So that's the system.

That's why the other place was like that too.

This... this needs to be fixed...

"But..."

"What?"

How do I respond to someone asking so innocently?

'What should I say?'

Would it even make a difference?

Honestly, from my perspective, it'd be better to keep my mouth shut, get my license or whatever, and then say something.

But what about the patients who'll die in the meantime?

If I didn't know any better, I could've let it slide.

But I know.

'I can see it all... the future.'

I can see their future.

How many will die?

Based on my knowledge, it's probably over 50%.

But my gut tells me it'll be lower than that.

If that many died, would people even come?

'19th-century people must've been tougher than I thought.'

But even the toughest have their limits.

That patient I saw earlier, probably with appendicitis, died too.

These guys might not know any better, but I do.

"If it's this dirty, wouldn't it cause infections?"

"Infections happen because it's dirty?"

Isn't that how it works?

Or maybe not?

Looking at Alfred and Joseph's innocent faces, I felt like I'd die first.

'No... think about human lives.'

If it were just about some pain, I'd have backed off.

But people are clearly dying, so I can't let it go.

"..."

What should I say?

What can I say?

Ah.

Right.

I didn't get my position by cheating, did I?

A brilliant idea flashed through my mind.

"Didn't the bodies always have a foul smell?"

"Of course they smell bad."

"Smell here too."

I showed them my clothes.

"Ugh."

Both of them covered their noses.

It's my clothes.

Damn it.

"Doesn't it smell familiar?"

"Huh?"

"The pus I squeezed from your hand, senior."

"Ah... yeah. It does smell similar."

"Could it be the same particles?"

I wondered how long I'd have to use the word "particles" instead of bacteria or viruses.

I felt pathetic, but thankfully, it worked.

"Ah. Then... this is."

"These particles could be anywhere."

"Then everyone should die."

"But we have skin."

I wanted to talk about the immune system too.

But at that moment, I imagined a public square and a crucifixion ending.

Not just any crucifixion, but a burning one.

I heard burning at the stake is an excruciating punishment.

I don't need to experience it firsthand.

"The skin protects us, but if it's torn... the particles can get in."

"Hmm. I see. But what about mothers? Their skin isn't torn, is it?"

Where do you think amniotic fluid comes from!

I wanted to smack the back of their heads.

I did that later.

He's the senior, after all.

The one whose father is rich enough to build a hospital.

"The amniotic fluid breaks, right? For that to happen, something must've torn."

"Ah. Wow... you're really... a genius, aren't you?"

Finally.

It took forever for someone to call me a genius.

Of course, I am.

And I have future knowledge too.

Can you really call that just genius?

"No, you're too kind."

Of course, I'm also a genius at being humble.

"This could be contaminated. So, I think... we should clean the floors... and wash our hands too."

"Hmm. That seems like a bit of a logical leap..."

A leap?

This is...

"Is it?"

"Yeah. If particles are related to handwashing... we don't wash our hands, but we're fine. It doesn't seem to affect patient outcomes."

No, no. That's not it.

Wash your hands.

It makes a difference.

"Is... is that so?"

"Yeah. You're still a newbie, but... we're scientists before we're medical students. It's called inductive reasoning, right?"

I wanted to slap him, but...

I just nodded.

'Then... I'll have to approach it with statistics, after all.'

I was thinking differently inside.

As far as I know... women don't just give birth here, right?

There are plenty of other hospitals.

The systems can't all be the same...

'There must be someone who doesn't like getting their hands dirty.'

What if I find a decent place among them and teach them?

The foundation of your precious inductive reasoning is statistics.

I'll hit you with statistics.

Huh?

"Should we go? On the way, I'd like to see other hospitals. Is that possible?"

"Why?"

"Just... for observation?"

"You're really passionate about learning. We can probably stop by. My father donates to a lot of places."

"Oh."

"Shall we go?"

"Yes."

Let's go!

Please, let there be at least one decent place!