"What… Do you have some kind of problem too, sir?"
"Plenty of problems. I lose count of how many times I wake up at night."
"Sigh… But does that mean you should just cut off your balls?"
"Well… I already have kids, so what does it matter?"
That was the biggest issue.
Since he had absolutely no knowledge about hormones or anything of the sort, he still believed the function of the testicles was solely for reproduction.
It wasn't as if he was completely unaware of what happened to people who lost or had their testicles removed—things like losing facial hair or experiencing faster muscle atrophy.
'Statistics… I'm sorry for underestimating you.'
The problem was, during this era, the concept of statistics didn't even exist.
Most knowledge was either based on personal experience or fragmented impressions.
Of course, truly important knowledge—like farming, military tactics, or economics—was gradually being accumulated. Unfortunately, medicine still hadn't become a priority for humanity.
"About that professor you mentioned…"
"Harry?"
"No, that guy's already been fired. I mean our original professor. His name was…"
"Ah, him. A remarkable man. He even devised this kind of surgery. It's a shame he passed away."
"That's the problem, sir. Those people—about four of them, right? It's not just about difficulty urinating."
"What else?"
"Hmm."
Come to think of it, I hadn't actually gone to meet them.
I made a mental note to investigate and share the findings later. Of course, going alone would be risky, so I considered moving with Liston. For now, I just made something up.
"First, their facial hair falls out."
"Ah. Well… If they can pee fine and just lose their beard, haha, can't they just glue it back on?"
"They also get weaker."
"Well… They can just have someone else do the work for them."
At this point, I expected something to finally get through to him, but it didn't work.
This guy had made enough money that he didn't care.
The characteristic indifference of people from this era was also playing a part.
After watching this stubborn old man for a while, I finally found something that might actually get through to him.
"And… they can't get it up."
"Huh?"
Honestly… this guy didn't seem like the type to perform well in bed anyway.
His physique, his usual diet…
There was no way he was in good health.
"They can't get hard."
"What? Why?"
Hey.
Now he's getting angry.
'Look at this… If I push this angle, I might actually be able to reduce these goddamn surgery attempts.'
I had an epiphany.
Yes, this was it.
Truly… across all eras and cultures, this was the ultimate motivator.
The obsession with virility wasn't just a Korean thing.
It's just not widely known, but even foreigners—people from so-called advanced nations—would do all sorts of crazy things when it came to virility.
"You wouldn't know, but they can't get it up."
"Sigh… That's a problem…"
"So, let's hold off for now. Let's try working on this first. Who knows, maybe we'll find something better. Once I confirm it, I'll let you know."
"No, not right away…"
"Not right away? Aren't you suffering right now?"
I stared at him with a puzzled expression.
In return, the chemist gave me a look that said, What the hell is this kid talking about?
"Don't you need to practice first?"
"Practice? With what?"
"On live subjects, of course."
An anatomy show…
Well, calling it a "show" felt a bit grim.
Anyway, since they had executed so many people at once before, there weren't many prisoners left at the moment.
Even in an era where executions were treated as a form of entertainment, mass executions were still frowned upon.
'Once we get more, I'll have to slow the decay with the formalin I prepared.'
Surprisingly, since methanol itself was easy to produce, I could also make formalin solutions at various concentrations.
'Now that I think about it, I should adjust that too…'
During my anatomy lab days, I had smelled it plenty of times, and since it was the kind of stench you never forget, I thought I'd immediately know the right concentration—but that wasn't the case.
Whether diluted or not, it all smelled terrible up close.
Of course, the pure stuff was so strong I thought I'd get cancer if I inhaled too much…
Anyway, that day I learned why it was classified as a Group 1 carcinogen.
Honestly, I hadn't been back to the dissection lab since then.
Even though I'd closed the lid, this era's sealing technology was terrible…
"Hah, this guy. What nonsense! Surgical practice must always be done on live subjects."
Just as I was internally lamenting the barbarism of this era, the chemist had the audacity to say something even more uncivilized right to my face.
Was this guy insane?
What kind of surgical practice was done on live people?
I glared at him in disbelief, but the chemist shamelessly continued.
"Take Louis XIV as an example. Before his hemorrhoid surgery, over 70 people died. Thanks to them, Louis XIV lived a long life. So… once my surgical skills improve, then you can call me. Oh, and make sure to confirm whether cutting it off really does make you impotent."
Hah.
I wondered where he was going with this, but of course, it was about Louis XIV.
That was already a 17th-century story—over 200 years ago—and he was still harping on about it.
Didn't he realize that all that accumulated karma led to Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette getting their heads chopped off about 30 years ago?
"Uh… understood."
But this was such a primitive era, and I was fully aware of it, so I kept my mouth shut.
Instead, I decided to examine the various failed prototypes the chemist had prepared—different types of rubber with varying hardness levels.
I closed my eyes and felt around, trying to find something closest to the poly catheter I used back in the day.
'This one's… too soft… This one's too hard. Hmm. Ugh?'
I ended up finding three that were close enough.
Out of dozens of failed prototypes, three wasn't an unreasonable number.
I set those three aside and kept feeling them.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Huh?"
"You've got your eyes closed, savoring it like it's something delicious."
"That's not it. These three definitely feel different, but it's not clear enough."
"Then why overthink it? Just make all three, try inserting them, and see which works."
"What?"
I kept reacting with "What?"—this situation was just too absurd.
Just inserting them like that…
Imagine how the patient would feel…
"What else can we do? Nothing's perfect on the first try. Do you know how many failures I went through just to make gloves?"
But when I thought about it, he had a point.
This wasn't an era where delicate precision was possible.
If it weren't for the fact that making condoms had boosted my reputation, I might've ended up shoving an iron rod in there. The thought made my guilt melt away like snow.
'Well… Anything's better than an iron rod.'
So I asked him to proceed with the order.
"How long will it take?"
"It's just modifying an existing design. Besides, doesn't this look like a condom anyway?"
"Huh?"
"Long, with a tube inside. Same thing, really."
"Ah… Now that you mention it, I guess so."
"Tomorrow? Or maybe the day after?"
"Oh…"
So I'd have a catheter soon…
'Hmm…'
This wouldn't just be for people who couldn't urinate.
It was practically essential for treating critical patients.
During surgery, for instance.
Right now, we didn't even have muscle relaxants, let alone anesthesia that could last more than 30 minutes reliably…
But if surgeries took longer, a catheter would be necessary.
Otherwise, urine could reflux into the bladder and damage the kidneys.
It was also used to measure fluid intake and output, among countless other things.
'Great. Even if it's limited for now… This is definitely a step forward.'
With that thought, I thanked him and headed back to the school.
"Ah, Professor…"
One of my former classmates—now junior—approached me hesitantly.
Given that he was one of the guys who'd made comments about my skin color, this must've been awkward for him.
Little shit…
You should've known your place.
How dare you mess with a 21st-century genius?
"Yeah, what is it?"
Of course, I was the bigger person, so I replied nonchalantly.
He then relayed the director's message that I should start preparing lectures soon.
Well, as a professor, teaching was part of the job.
Given how much these people from this era needed to learn, there was no reason to hesitate.
I had urgent matters to attend to now, so I'd have to postpone it a bit…
"Got it. By the way, where's Professor Liston?"
"Ah… He's in the operating room."
"Cutting away like always, huh? Alright. Good work, you can go."
"Yes, Professor…"
The operating room—more like a small theater—still had six surgeries lined up.
Between yesterday's backlog and today's schedule, the entire morning would be gone.
But that meant I had time to spare…
No problem.
I had plenty to do.
"Let's go check on the patients. And…"
Before starting rounds with my students, I asked Liston's coachman to track down the patients who had lost their testicles under the previous professor's care.
Since he knew about my relationship with Liston and also disapproved of this barbaric "treatment," he readily agreed.
"We'll be meeting with Dr. Liston this afternoon… No need to find everyone, just the ones nearby."
"Understood."
With that settled, I finally began my rounds.
Since I'd been busy with dissections and other tasks outside the hospital, there weren't too many patients.
But…
"That wound's festering, isn't it?"
"Festering? Ah… Isn't that a good thing?"
"What?"
"Everyone says it's part of the healing process."
Even if there weren't many patients, and even if I'd performed the surgeries well, problems still arose.
This patient…
I had put in so much effort to avoid amputation—scraping the wound, encouraging new tissue growth—but in just two days, an infection had set in.
"Who… Who's 'everyone'?"
"The doctors, the nurses, everyone passing by."
"Ha."
Goddamn these primitive bastards.
They actually believe rotting is part of healing…
The only saving grace was that the infection had started after most of the wound had already healed, so it hadn't spread too deeply.
"Aaaah!"
To drive the lesson home, I excised the necrotic tissue on the spot and rebandaged it.
"Don't do anything stupid."
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Or I'll cut it off next time."
"Yes…"
I might've come off as a bit unhinged, but there was no other choice.
For now, this was the best I could do.
"Haha, as expected of my sworn brother. Truly my kind of man."
If only Liston hadn't shown up right then, grinning like a madman after finishing his surgeries.
"Uh… Yeah."
What else could I say?