Chapter 22: Dr. Liston's Place.

Robert Liston.

London's top surgeon.

It seems he didn't rise to that position for nothing.

His thinking was quite flexible.

After all, wasn't it said that the Liston Knife, which became his trademark, was designed and made by himself?

He had creativity, that's what it meant.

"Certainly, this will be a new... a new attempt. Isn't it quite remarkable to have thought of this, Blundell?"

On top of that, he was a man who could also wield violence.

I hadn't seen him hit anyone, but look at that face, those fists.

Wouldn't he obviously hit someone?

"Well... if that's what you think, then it must be remarkable."

Blundell seemed to share a similar thought, as he didn't dare to make eye contact.

Honestly, if anyone could offer a different opinion in that situation, I would have respected it.

That's not the realm of courage but of conviction.

Even if it's a misguided conviction, if someone has that level of belief, then...

"Then shall we try it? But applying it to all wards at once would be too much. First, we need to decide how to wash our hands."

Dr. Liston, having subdued Blundell with a single word, turned to look at me.

A sense of intimidation I hadn't noticed while observing from the side now overwhelmed me.

If I hadn't had the experience of a past life, I might have been on my knees by now.

No, in fact, my knees were trembling, and it was still unsettling.

"Yes, yes."

So, like a slave, I bowed my head.

While bowing, I glanced at Joseph and Alfred, and they were even worse.

They were gasping like they had forgotten how to breathe.

If this keeps up, they'll hyperventilate, you idiots.

"First, how about we try it in just one ward as a pilot?"

Anyway, seeing those fools like that made me think I couldn't afford to be like them, so I managed to spill out the words I had prepared earlier.

"Hoh."

Liston seemed impressed, tilting his chin up to look at me.

Whether it was the content that impressed him or the fact that I spoke up, I couldn't tell.

But it was a good thing.

Whatever it was, the reaction wasn't bad.

"Washing hands with just boiled water seems a bit insufficient."

"Why?"

"Actually, I'm not completely against the miasma theory either."

My mouth itched.

I wanted to shout, "Miasma, damn it."

I don't know if it was named after someone or just arbitrarily named, but people back then liked to name things after themselves.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I think miasma can cling not just to the air but also to our bodies."

"That could be possible."

"If it's really strong enough to kill people, would just washing with water be enough?"

"Hmm... That's a reasonable thought, but then what would you use to wash?"

Dr. Liston's question was quite sharp.

I've thought about this a lot too.

The first thing that came to mind was alcohol, but it was too expensive.

Alcohol itself wasn't cheap, and distilling it every time would be...

"I've heard there's a disinfectant called chloride of lime."

"That's very toxic."

Yes, it was toxic.

...

I unconsciously looked down at my hands.

I tried washing with it once yesterday, and it hurt.

Goodness, washing hands hurts?

But there was no other way.

Water alone wasn't enough.

"I tried it, and it was manageable."

"Really? Hmm... But would they follow that?"

Dr. Liston stroked his chin.

Whether it was because he shaved quite a bit or because his beard was thick, I could feel the roughness even from here.

It seemed like I shouldn't oppose this man.

Being only half-dead would be a blessing.

"How about trying it as an experiment... for just a month."

"A month. Hmm... What about the two who came with you? Did they come with the intention to do this?"

"Ah, yes."

Joseph and Alfred also didn't want to be half-dead, so I answered for them.

The back of my neck felt slightly warm, but I ignored it.

Having slightly sore hands is much better than killing people, after all.

Of course, the guys behind me didn't know my thoughts and ideals, so they poked me in the back.

"Alright. Then you three... Blundell. How about you wash your hands before entering the ward I mentioned?"

"Well... if it's an experiment, I guess I have to."

Blundell also ended up washing.

It was a bit scary seeing him glare at me while avoiding Dr. Liston's eyes.

But he didn't seem like the type to cause physical harm.

It would probably end with me before it even got to Joseph.

"Four people and one or two more assistants washing their hands should be enough to cover one experimental ward. Let's do it that way. I'll also decide whether to wash my hands before surgery based on the results."

"Yes, thank you."

"Thank you? I'm always waiting for fresh ideas."

To think I once called such a great man a butcher.

I reproached myself for my past mistakes as I walked out, and Joseph and Alfred each gave me three hits.

"Ouch..."

It hurt.

They hit me with all their might.

"Why did you drag us into this!"

"I, I also ended up on Professor Blundell's bad side!"

They each had their reasons.

Well, these guys deserve it.

They don't know anything.

"Wait and see. This will advance medicine by a step."

"Stop talking nonsense..."

"Alright."

I tried to reassure them with a word, but it was no use.

They kept grumbling, and even when we got home, the grumbling didn't stop.

If even these guys who know my excellence are like this, what about the others?

If I had just said to wash with water, it might have been different.

But even I think this is a bit much.

"Who do you think you are, telling us to wash our hands!"

Moreover, I'm a first-year medical student.

In a 21st-century hospital, there would be interns at the bottom, but this is 19th-century London.

Students, whether paying or not, are at the very bottom.

"It's Dr. Robert Liston's order. Ward 1... you have to wash your hands with this."

But who am I?

Someone who has endured all sorts of hardships in a past life.

And how can such words come back when I tell the medical staff to wash their hands?

It's not enough to grab them by the collar and beat them.

"R, Robert... Liston?"

"This knife is the proof."

Of course, that didn't happen.

Because I brought Dr. Liston's knife.

Every time I see it, I want to wash it in boiling water, scrub it with soap, and soak it in disinfectant...

'Ugh'

Even the curved hairs are there?

At this point, it feels like I should just throw the knife into a furnace, melt it down, and make a new one.

"Ah... then I'll wash. Don't say I complained."

"Yes, yes. Of course."

Thoughts are just thoughts, but Dr. Liston's knife had an effect as if it were some kind of royal seal.

In fact, just the name alone made most people cower.

Even those with strong personalities would inevitably falter upon seeing the knife.

"Who do you think you are to make new rules like this?"

The one who came at me the strongest was my classmate.

Colin, was it?

Turns out, he wasn't just rich but also somewhat of a noble.

Not the kind with overwhelming power or anything, but...

"It's Dr. Robert Liston's order."

"You're the one who suggested it, right?"

"It's just part of an experiment."

"You monkey, how dare you... you can't even come to anatomy practice because you're scared..."

He crossed the line by a long shot.

But there was little I could do now.

But what about Alfred?

"Hey. First-year. If they say wash, then wash."

"But... just because you're a senior?"

"Not just because of that, but it's an experiment. Aren't you a scientist?"

"..."

"Should I tell the professor you're not participating?"

He's not from a noble family, but he's a nouveau riche, right?

Plus, being in a rivalry, he didn't hesitate to oppose.

And on top of that, I was his life's savior.

Though it was a bit much to hit me three times just for suggesting handwashing.

Fortunately, he had a sense of loyalty.

"Damn it."

Colin's eyes darted between me, the chloride of lime, and Dr. Liston's knife, then he finally bowed his head and dipped his hands in the chloride of lime.

Anyone would have done the same.

A knife with countless bloodstains left as proof of experience.

It's like a knife straight out of hell.

"You'll see."

Those who say "you'll see" are usually not scary.

But London was an exception.

It's a city where not a few corpses are found dead every day.

'Well... I can just take a carriage.'

A life shuttling between home, school, and church, you brat.

Of course, I'm also curious about the entertainment culture here.

But there's a high chance I'd become the entertainment myself.

There were guys who openly discriminated in Upton, so what about London?

It's hard to believe it's called a country of gentlemen, given how ignorant and rude people are.

"Ah... my hands hurt!"

"You... you bastard."

Anyway, the first few days passed without much trouble thanks to Dr. Robert Liston, but that only lasted a day or two.

In fact, it got worse after the Liston knife was taken away by the professor.

For surgery...

It's not working.

Anyway, as soon as the shockingly visual element disappeared, complaints started pouring in.

"You still have to wash."

"Ugh..."

"Wash."

But I'm not an easy person either, you know.

Unless the other person is Robert Liston.

I'm not doing this to cause trouble.

Huh? It's all to save lives, right?

"Ugh!"

"Wash!"

But it was still tough.

I had to cling to every guy entering the ward and make a fuss.

I didn't think I was making a fuss, but they seemed to think so.

They were talking openly, not even behind my back.

"Let's... go."

"Hey, we just finished dissection. It's tiring, so just move aside."

But this is too much.

Huh?

You're pushing through with rotten flesh still on you?

You bastards.

Wouldn't even the miasma or whatever you care so much about say this is wrong?

"You bastards!"

I first cursed at them in Korean, then poured water on them.

Colin, who was at the front, looked at me in confusion.

It was like the situation in romance dramas where the male lead falls for the female lead.

But life's genre isn't romance, so he turned red and shouted at me.

"W, what are you doing!"

"Stop talking nonsense."

It didn't matter.

I even splashed disinfectant on them.

"Ugh."

I could feel the pain in real-time.

Me?

I was numb.

"Next. Bastard."

With my eyes and hands red, I cursed in Korean, and there was no more resistance.

Thanks to that.

From then on, there was little resistance.

Well, that's how a month passed.

Dr. Robert Liston and Blundell came to me and asked.

"So, how is it?"