Chapter 79: Pain Relief (2)

Arsenic.

In our daily lives, the most common form we encounter is probably rat poison.

To think that I'm considering feeding something made from rat poison to patients…

I felt a slight pang of guilt, but when I thought about the patients here, my resolve hardened again.

"Yes, then I'll leave it to you. But how exactly will the experiment be conducted…?"

"Hmm. If we process it with fire and try this and that, something might come of it, don't you think?"

"Ah."

Ah!

Is that all a so-called chemist can say?

'Wait… do chemical formulas even exist at this point…?'

I don't think I've seen any.

No wonder he's making such primitive remarks.

That meant that even if he and other chemists worked together, the chances of producing Salvarsan, the 606th arsenic compound, by simply burning arsenic were slim to none.

"Then I'll be off. Don't worry. I'm good at chemistry."

"Ah, yes."

I felt like I had only given Blundell and Liston good tasks, and that I had come here for no reason, but I quickly changed my mindset.

This era is one where you can't survive without boundless optimism.

Even thinking positively feels like it could break your mental state, so there's no room for despair.

'That's right… let's buy… let's buy bread.'

Let's buy bread, take it home, and let it rot…

'Wait! Come to think of it, Fleming is British, right?'

And this is Britain too, isn't it?

The same mold should grow here, right?

Plus, London is rainy and, above all, dirty… so it seems like the perfect environment.

'Right, instead of this… let's just grow the mold ourselves.'

What's needed to grow mold is… none other than a culture medium.

You might wonder how to make a culture medium, but it's surprisingly simple.

When I was an undergraduate, if you showed interest in physiology or microbiology, the professors would say, "Hey, you can even grow this at home!" and teach you how.

"Agar…"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Let's buy some seaweed."

"Huh? Suddenly? You want to go to the market? That's not a place for gentlemen."

"It's for an experiment, not cooking."

"Ah."

When you boil seaweed, it solidifies like jelly, right?

That's perfect for growing mold.

If it's a bit lacking, you can sprinkle sugar on it, but sugar is quite expensive at this time, so that might be difficult.

But it's fine.

Just having seaweed is enough.

Anyway, I convinced the guys who were fussing about being gentlemen with the idea of an experiment and managed to buy bread, seaweed, and other items in bulk.

"Next, willow bark."

"Huh…? What's with you today?"

"Let's go where the willow trees are."

"No…"

While we were at it, I gathered some willow bark.

Thinking about brewing this and giving it to people made me sigh deeply, but what else could I do?

Even now, when it's quiet, I can still hear the screams from the amputation ward echoing in my ears…

If there's something I can do, I have to do it.

"If you brew this and drink it, the pain goes away."

"Or maybe they just die? No, just kidding. Why are you glaring at me like that?"

When we got home and I was brewing the willow bark, Alfred teased me.

To be honest, the color looked like something you shouldn't drink.

I had imagined it would look like a light herbal medicine, but this…

'Doesn't this look… a bit too dirty?'

The only saving grace was that the smell wasn't too bad, but the color was so off-putting that only someone in extreme pain would consider drinking it.

Well, it's fine.

The patients here will accept any treatment, no matter how dubious it looks.

It's not that they trust the hospital, but rather that they wouldn't come to the hospital unless they were in serious pain.

"What's this?"

Maybe because I was glaring at him or because he thought I might make him drink it, Joseph pointed at the seaweed.

I couldn't easily answer because I wasn't sure what it was either.

I had received agar medium before… but I had never made it at home.

Some cloudy liquid was coming out, but I had no idea how to dry it to turn it into the seaweed I was familiar with.

"It might not work. If it does, I'll let you know."

"Hmm… You don't look too hopeful…? I have no idea what's going on."

I couldn't just say "I don't know," so I made something up.

"Why is this bread… laid out here?"

The barrage of questions never ended.

This time, it was Alfred.

To be fair, it did look a bit strange.

What kind of lunatic would chop up bread into small pieces and lay them out on a desk?

And dozens of pieces at that, with some water sprinkled on them.

"You don't have a fever."

Joseph, worried, felt my forehead.

If I had a fever, they'd probably try to cut my hair to get rid of the cause…

Given how extreme they could be, I quickly shook my head.

"An old Korean text mentions… that eating mold from rotten bread… no, not bread, but rice, cured a fever."

The moment I mentioned bread, the lie should have been obvious, but the British, both then and now, have a mindset that rivals Sinocentrism, so they have little interest in other cultures.

No, if anything, they'd find it strange that we eat rice as a staple instead of bread.

"Really? From rotten bread?"

"Oh… so mold has that kind of effect?"

See?

They didn't even hear the part about rice.

It's like they have a filter in their ears, but whenever the topic of another culture's traditions comes up, they just ignore it.

This was especially true at this time.

After all, this is the British Empire.

"Yes, I'm just going to observe it for now."

"Should we save some fever patients then?"

Somehow, I managed to convince them, but then Joseph came up with an absurd idea.

I blinked, wondering what on earth he was talking about, and in the meantime, the two of them started discussing it without me.

"Right, if there's such a record, we should verify it."

"Yes. Let's cut off the moldy part of the bread and feed it to them."

"If they survive, then it really works."

"Or… should we try feeding them other molds?"

"Should we?"

These lunatics.

They're talking about killing people with such enthusiasm.

Looking back, it's true that this kind of mad experimental spirit drove medical progress, but…

Thinking about the innocent patients who would be sacrificed in the process brought tears to my eyes.

"No, no! You can't just use it on patients right away!"

I added that we wouldn't just leave it on the desk but place it around the house.

"Why?"

"Not all molds are the same."

"Huh…?"

Ah.

At this point, they don't even have a concept of bacteria, let alone fungi.

Pushing history forward is a challenging task in many ways.

With a newfound respect for the protagonists of alternate history novels I used to read for fun, I calmly continued.

"Different molds grow in different places. Not all molds are the same."

"Is that so…?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying."

Staying calm wasn't easy.

I had to suppress the frustration bubbling up inside me.

"We'll see if that's true or not. Anyway, I have a plan, so… don't cut off the mold and feed it to anyone."

"Uh… okay, sure."

"Got it."

"I'm serious. Don't feed it to anyone. How did you even come up with the idea of feeding mold to people?"

"You're the one who suggested it."

"Sigh."

As I was about to let out a deep sigh, Joseph, who's quick on the uptake, nodded.

"Alright, alright. I'll wait for now."

"Good…"

Thankfully, he's obedient.

"But this isn't about feeding it to someone tomorrow, right?"

At that moment, Alfred pointed to the willow bark brew I had made.

It had the visual appeal of something that would completely destroy any credibility I had just built.

'Weird… I thought it would look more presentable…'

Why is it so impure…?

Should I have cleaned the bark better?

The black bits were especially odd.

But I couldn't tell if this was really strange or not.

After all, what 21st-century Korean doctor would be crazy enough to brew willow bark?

If needed, we'd just prescribe medicine…

This is too natural.

"Uh… yeah."

"That's no good, but this is?"

"This… is fine…"

"You're not making much sense."

"Anyway, don't feed anyone mold!"

"Ah, got it. Got it. You're really feisty today."

In situations like this, it's best to just act tough and move on.

If it seems petty, well, it is, so there's nothing more to say.

What else can I do?

I know I'm right, but I have no way to explain it.

'Hmm… it hasn't rotted yet… at least that's a relief. It's starting to look somewhat decent.'

As soon as morning came, I checked the bread, the seaweed water, and the willow bark brew one by one.

The seaweed had turned into something resembling the agar I was familiar with.

I spread it onto several plates and then pressed my palms and soles onto them.

"What… what are you doing?"

"You come here and press too."

"Why… why? This isn't some kind of ritual, is it?"

"Ritual?"

"You know… like a cult…"

"No, no. It's an experiment."

"An experiment…?"

Even I had to admit that pressing bare hands and feet onto plates with white stuff on them looked more like a suspicious ritual than an experiment…

But since it wasn't, I handled it firmly.

Joseph reluctantly followed my lead, but upon closer inspection, he was reciting the Lord's Prayer.

Especially the part, "Deliver us from evil," which he kept repeating.

It was unfair.

'Just wait and see.'

It was frustrating not being able to explain myself right now.

"Can I take that…?"

"Yeah."

"That pot… looks heavy…"

"I still have to take it. I need to brew this too."

"You're sure this isn't a ritual?"

"I told you it's not!"

On top of that, I also brought the willow bark brew with me.

Come to think of it, the pot looked like a witch's cauldron, which made me uneasy, but I was determined.

I focused on the patients in the amputation ward.

Thinking of them made my resolve stronger.

If I could alleviate even a little of the suffering of those living in hell itself…

I could carry a witch's cauldron if I had to.

"Uh… why are you keeping your distance?"

"Huh? Did it seem that way? Not really."

"You're walking too fast."

"Ah, no. Not really."

Those ungrateful bastards rushed ahead as soon as we arrived at the hospital.

I, however, headed straight for the amputation ward.

To bring salvation to those inside…

Wait, those jerks kept calling it a ritual, and now I'm using weird words too.

"Please… please let me go…"

The first thing that caught my eye when I entered was, surprisingly, Killian.

The rough Irish sailor had developed the most delicate eyes in the world after just one day in the amputation ward.