Chapter 42: A Strange Sound (1).

It was a rather gruesome treatment, but unexpectedly effective—I managed to overcome the headache.

"What now?"

"Hmm."

That didn't mean the director's pressure had disappeared.

If only I had undergone bloodletting instead, I might have passed out, and at least then, the pain would have bought me some time.

"Ah, did he die?"

"Ah…."

Hearing that the patient who had been struggling earlier had passed away, I instinctively turned my head.

What the hell.

A hospital where people walk in and die—how terrifying.

Using something like that as an excuse to feign illness felt a bit too much.

"Uh… Professor."

At that moment, someone entered the laboratory. Judging by his hesitant demeanor, he seemed to have brought rather troubling news.

"What is it?"

"A telegram has arrived. Your grandfather… he's in critical condition…"

"What?"

This wasn't just troubling news; it was bad news.

"Well, there's no choice, then."

At the same time, the director's pressure vanished in an instant.

No matter how much he was blinded by money and fame, what could he do in the face of death?

Of course, anesthesia was an option, and he could call in another doctor, but Robert Liston's reputation was simply too great.

Most patients refused to undergo surgery unless it was performed by Dr. Liston himself. Knowing this, the director ultimately gave up on the procedure.

"We'll discuss it later."

"Yes, Director."

Robert Liston's eyes were slightly bloodshot.

Normally, seeing someone like this would evoke sympathy, but in his case, even this appearance was intimidating.

He already looked sorrowful, and now he had an expression that said,

"Are you really going to mess with me right now? Do you want to die?"

It was exactly that kind of atmosphere.

The director may have spoken casually, but he had probably run off in fear.

"It's all right. He was quite elderly…"

"Yes… but still… You should go quickly, so you don't have any regrets."

"Regrets, huh…"

Even in this moment, I was able to speak calmly.

How was that possible?

Because I had already spent a significant portion of my life as a doctor.

And with that time came a wealth of experience in delivering bad news.

It also meant I had witnessed many final moments and the people who stood by the dying.

"You're right. That's a good point. I should hurry."

"Yes."

"While I'm away, there won't be any incoming cadavers, so… just focus on reviewing. Listen to the other professors, especially Blundell—he tends to grumble, so don't get on his bad side."

"Yes, Professor."

"You can call me 'brother.' No one's around, anyway."

"Ah… Yes, brother."

Death was not something that could be avoided.

Not even in the 21st century.

In fact, it was only in the 21st century that people started seriously contemplating how to die well.

Especially in Korea, my beloved homeland, where hospice care had only recently begun to take root.

I may not have worked in hospice myself, but given its prevalence, I had picked up a thing or two.

"Speak to him a lot. In Joseon, we send off our loved ones that way."

"All right, I'll do that."

Robert Liston likely didn't fully understand what I was saying.

And that made sense.

How could he know that hearing is the last sense to remain before death?

Expecting people to understand such things in this ambiguous era was not just unrealistic—it was practically cruel.

"Well… looks like I have some free time now."

Dr. Liston quickly headed out.

Even though he said he was fine and that his grandfather was old, death was now right in front of him.

If he weren't affected, that would have been truly strange.

"Professor's grandfather is in critical condition?"

"He left in a real hurry."

"Hey, I know this sounds bad, but… does this mean we're free?"

"Uh… well, technically, yeah?"

As soon as I returned from the lab to the lecture hall, Alfred and Joseph approached me with this conversation.

They say rumors travel fast, but even in this era?

How did these guys already know when the telegram had just arrived?

"Let's review a bit… then take a break?"

"But if we're just going to mess around… Colin's group went to the dissection room earlier."

"Oh."

"I really don't want to lose to them."

I remained silent while they kept talking.

But that last part—I liked that.

Yeah. Losing wasn't an option.

Especially not to someone like Colin.

How could we lose when I was here?

Lose to some 19th-century students? Not even real doctors, just med students?

That was unacceptable.

"There's no one watching… should we go all out?"

Robert Liston wasn't around.

Blundell? He only cared about pregnant women—he wasn't interested in general dissections.

He wasn't even studying anatomy to learn—he was just checking how pregnant women died.

As a professor, that might be understandable.

But from my perspective?

He was a fool pretending to know things he didn't.

"Yeah, let's go all out."

The other doctors rarely came to the dissection room.

Unlike Robert Liston, no one else practically lived there.

Surgery wasn't widely respected yet, and anatomy was still seen more as an academic subject than a clinical science.

That would change soon enough, but for now, that was the reality.

"Alright, let's go."

I opened my eyes to see the two of them staring at me, as if waiting for their master's permission.

Joseph was my classmate, but Alfred was my senior—yet even he was looking at me like that.

To him, skill was everything.

I liked that about him.

Creak.

When we entered, Colin's group was already there, making a mess.

They were trying to imitate what I had done before…

"As if that would be easy."

They had cut through more than just the skin—they had sliced into the muscles as well.

There was no way they'd get a clean separation now.

Blood was leaking everywhere, and the whole thing looked awful.

Unlike my dissections, which were clean and precise, theirs was just a disaster.

"Alright, before we move on to the forearm, let's check out the muscles."

I picked up a pair of forceps instead of a scalpel.

Starting at the origin of the biceps, I traced the muscle down its length.

"See? Muscles originate from the shoulder and extend downward."

"How do you know it starts at the shoulder?"

It was such an obvious question that I hadn't expected it.

But I had an answer ready.

"Think about it. If the muscle started at the forearm, it would pull in the opposite direction."

"Oh…"

"That'd be weird, right? So, it makes sense that it starts up here."

"How the hell do you know all this?"

"I'm close with Dr. Liston. And I read a lot of books. They don't call me an anatomy genius for nothing. Some things… you just know."

Robert Liston would never let me explain things so vaguely, but he wasn't here right now.

So, I decided to teach at lightning speed.

---

Later, when the deceased patient's family arrived, I was shocked.

"Wait… did the hospital really kill this guy and send his body here for dissection without even telling his family?"

Holy. Hell.

If I were in their shoes, I'd have stabbed that bastard Jemmel or whatever his name was.

And yet, they were staying remarkably composed.

"Wow… they must be saints."

They collected the body and loaded it onto

a cart, heading toward the burial grounds.

One of the feet was sticking out slightly—giving the whole scene an eerie feel.

Maybe that's why…

For a split second, I could've sworn I saw it move.

…It must have been my imagination.