Chapter 44: A Strange Sound (3).

No matter what, my senior was… My senior was kind of a pushover.

"Hehe. Then I'll pay for it."

It wasn't just because he was paying for me. From the looks of it, he had given quite a bit more than the market price.

The gravedigger, who had been gruff until now, had suddenly adopted a 21st-century service mentality, smiling brightly. Not that it made much difference.

I had no idea how he managed the graves, but clumps of hair were missing, and his face was a mess from not washing properly.

"Hmm."

More than anything, there was a faint smell of corpses coming from him.

A gravedigger shouldn't have many opportunities to handle corpses, but still…

Creeeak.

As we waited, the gravedigger attached a pulley to the coffin's handles and started pulling with all his might.

I had no idea why the coffin was wrapped with rope and buried like that.

Not to mention, they hadn't even bothered to cover it with soil.

'Were they planning to sell it off if needed?'

Given the time period, and considering this was London, which might as well be called another version of hell, the idea of selling corpses wasn't far-fetched.

But where? Why? For how much?

The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

At least the bodies that Dr. Liston acquired were all unclaimed. Either they had no relatives, or if they did, the families willingly handed them over.

"Oh."

The gravedigger, despite having few teeth, was hoisting the heavy coffin on his own.

"Come, come and see."

Still, it seemed dragging the coffin all the way to us was too much effort, so he waved us over.

Well, there was no reason not to go.

So, we walked over.

Thud!

As we approached, we heard a strange sound.

A knocking sound.

It was definitely coming from the coffin.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah."

"Damn it."

It wasn't just me; Alfred and Joseph had heard it too.

The problem was that the gravedigger stood there with a completely indifferent expression.

"…You don't hear that?"

I asked as I started untying the rope wrapped around the coffin.

The gravedigger, looking utterly unimpressed, replied,

"You can't work here if you're too sensitive."

It was frustrating, yet it made a certain kind of sense.

I supposed you couldn't work in a place like this if you were too jumpy…

But still, pretending not to hear such an obvious noise?

Ssskkrrt.

We continued untying the rope.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Maybe because of the commotion outside, whatever was inside was now thrashing about even harder.

Now the coffin lid itself was rattling.

"…This isn't good."

At last, the gravedigger reacted.

But it wasn't the reaction I expected.

He was bringing over a shovel.

It was clear he intended to bash whatever came out.

"H-Hey! There's someone alive in there!"

"No way. This body came from the hospital… It's definitely dead. Haven't you read Frankenstein? We have to kill it. Otherwise…"

"Joseph."

"Huh?"

"Restrain him."

"Oh."

I thought about the patient.

I didn't know his name, and to be honest, I didn't even know his face well.

But it didn't matter.

He had gone to the hospital for a headache, and some bastard had sliced open his ankle, his arm, and his forehead like they were performing some kind of backroom surgery.

Then, after getting a nosebleed, they declared him dead, gave his family some compensation, and sent him off to a mass grave.

But he was still alive.

Neither his family nor the gravedigger cared—they just buried him.

And now, by sheer luck, he was about to escape his coffin… only to get bludgeoned with a shovel?

If that happened, even I would come back to life out of sheer rage.

"Hey, sir."

So, I sent Joseph in.

He wasn't quite as imposing as Dr. Robert Liston, but he was still a big guy.

And at least 10 cm taller than the gravedigger.

"W-What the hell?"

The gravedigger, for all his tough looks, seemed weak against the living.

He kept stepping back, unable to swing his shovel.

Clunk!

In the meantime, Alfred and I worked on opening the lid.

That is, we would have—if Alfred hadn't suddenly grabbed my hand.

"What?"

"I… It's not actually a corpse coming back to life, is it?"

I turned and saw that he was completely spooked.

This guy, after all that talk about premature burials, was now terrified?

"No, of course not. And if he had died and come back, that would be a miracle. Isn't that a good thing?"

"But… he's not Jesus…"

"Exactly. I mean, was he visited by the Three Wise Men at birth?"

"No… No, he wasn't."

I had to tread carefully here.

Even though science was advancing, outright denying religion in this era was dangerous.

But there was one joke that was always 100% safe and well-received.

"Besides, he was killed by Jemel. Jemel is French, not Jewish."

"Oh, haha. That's true."

What country did the English hate the most at the moment?

If unsure, just pick the nearest one.

In other words, France.

It was always hard to get along with your neighbors.

And just a few decades ago, they had been at war.

"So, it's impossible."

"Hmm."

"Now, please let go of my hand. Why are you sweating so much?"

"Hmm."

After pushing him back with a joke, Alfred finally stepped away.

With the obstacle removed, I opened the coffin lid.

"P-Please save me."

Inside was a patient.

Pale, but clearly conscious and capable of speech.

"You've lost a lot of blood. Let's get you to a hospital."

"You're… you're going to kill me again!"

He seemed to be in a state of delirium.

Or was he being rational?

Honestly, with the way hospitals kept killing people, it was hard to tell.

"No, no. We're not going to Jemel's place."

"Y-Yeah. Good. That's right…"

Just hearing Jemel's name made the patient nearly faint.

Seeing his exhausted face made me wonder…

'Would such an ineffective, invasive treatment really have survived this long?'

As a doctor, I was curious.

Clearly, the treatment made no sense.

A headache wasn't caused by blood pooling in one spot.

But still, people weren't stupid.

They wouldn't have done something so useless for so long, right?

So, I asked.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"Hi-Hiiiik! Don't stab me!"

I regretted asking.

The patient started trembling, then,

"Uwaaah!"

Began convulsing.

"…Patient?"

"…Why did you have to ask that?"

Sigh.

"Well… he's still breathing, so it's probably convulsions from blood loss."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw too many people die back in Joseon."

"…Yeah. I heard they execute people in the streets there."

Sorry, ancestors.

I lied for my survival, and now Joseon has become some Mad Max-esque nightmare.

"Yep, yep."

But at this point, I couldn't take it back…