These bastards had already spewed out over ten different "cold remedies" in less than five minutes.
Considering they weren't just ordinary people but medical students—no, even more, considering they were being taught by an unconventional professor like me—there should've been at least one usable suggestion.
"Bloodletting! Bloodletting!"
"Hey, hey! Go get some dog shit, quick!"
"The ankles? Slit the ankles?"
"First, strip all his clothes off! He's burning up!"
"Should we throw him in the river?"
"That might actually work."
No…
Stop it…
You crazy bastards.
Why the hell are you waving knives around someone with a fever?
"You insane bastard."
And what's with the guy offering up shit?
Was "dog shit isn't even enough for medicine" not a Korean proverb but a British one?
"Oh, you're conscious?"
It felt like I had to stay alert, even if I was on the verge of passing out.
Look at them—look how excited they are sharpening their knives.
"Don't worry. I'm exceptionally skilled at bloodletting."
Lister, when the hell did this guy even get here…?
Huh?
Why is he sharpening a knife?
Wait, when they said "slit the ankles," did they mean cut them off?
"Absolutely… do NOT put a knife to my body…"
I was already delirious from the fever, but watching this madness made me feel like I was genuinely losing my mind.
No, seriously, it was like something out of a nightmare—
'I'm losing my mind, I'm losing my mind. No, fuck, if I lose it here, I'm escaping this world for good…!'
I barely managed to force my eyes open.
Some time must have passed because someone was already holding onto my leg.
"Fuck! Stop it!"
And Dr. Lister was standing there with a knife, even closer than before.
"Hm? What's wrong? Drawing blood is the fastest way to treat a fever."
Fastest my ass!
I'd cool down real fast—by dying!
'When the hell will the ghost of the Four Humors theory finally disappear?'
Hippocrates…
Sure, the man left behind some incredible achievements.
Before him, people thought diseases were caused by spirits or curses, but he was the one who declared they were natural phenomena. That alone was groundbreaking.
But then he had to go and say, "If medicine doesn't work, use a knife. If the knife doesn't work, burn it." That part was a bit much.
"I… I have my own thoughts on this."
"What good are thoughts when you're feverish? You don't realize it, but your whole body's like a ball of fire."
"That aside… where am I right now? This isn't a hospital, is it…?"
If it were a hospital, I'd be lying on a hospital bed—but given the state of those beds, covered in pus and filth, that would've been a death sentence.
Normally, I might've been fine, but not now.
I'd die.
I'm not as tough as these 19th-century folks…
Wait, surviving this long probably does make me tough.
"Why would we put someone with a perfectly good home in a hospital?"
"Ah."
My mind must've been wandering again. In a way, having Lister here was a blessing.
Looking at his face forced my brain to stay sharp.
Anyway, this was good.
Alfred's house was far cleaner than any hospital.
At the very least…
Bad energy—
Wait, no, am I insane?
The risk of secondary infection from some unknown bacteria or virus was significantly lower here.
"Um… could I at least get some warm water?"
"You want us to pour water on you?"
"No… just water. To drink…"
"Hmm. Drinking too much water might cause diarrhea, you know?"
What…?
I'm not even having diarrhea yet, so why worry about that first?
Besides, if someone is having diarrhea, the first thing you give them is water…
'They really don't get it…'
Then again, if they had known, people wouldn't have dropped like flies from cholera and other diarrheal diseases…
Ever since coming here, I've always felt it, but now that I'm sick, it's even clearer:
You cannot get sick in this era.
You'll die.
Die for the stupidest reasons.
"Sigh."
Anyway, thanks to the reputation I'd built up, I barely managed to get some water.
Lister still looked somewhat dissatisfied—no, more like disappointed.
'Stop licking your lips while staring at my ankles…'
And it wasn't just him.
"Your head… does your head hurt?"
Thomas, the self-proclaimed genius of headache treatment, was here too.
The guy who spins people around like tops—
Even after bringing me willow bark tea, he kept eyeing me like he wanted to try his "treatment."
I didn't want to say it, but since the tea's effects weren't that strong, I could kinda understand.
Still, this guy was doing his best based on the theories he knew, right?
"We really should bleed him."
Blundell was here too.
Calling himself a doctor, but he was practically a butcher—
"Wait, why are there so many of you here?"
More importantly, why are there so many doctors?
This is weird, isn't it?
When I asked, Lister chuckled.
"Aren't you the dean's favorite? Not to mention Princess Victoria's. I just came on my own, but the others had no choice but to pay attention. So get better quickly. Stop being stubborn and give me your ankle."
Ah, so they're worried about me…
That part actually felt nice.
If it didn't, I'd be insane.
But I had to protect my ankles.
"Cough."
Maybe it was from tensing up to pull my legs away, or maybe the illness was just progressing, but I started coughing.
"He's coughing now too."
"Huuuh…"
"This isn't good."
The quacks immediately huddled up to discuss another ominous plan.
"Fever and a cough…"
"How about steam inhalation?"
"That might work, but… the fever could worsen."
Steam?
Like, water vapor?
Please don't bring mercury into this…
'I'm seriously losing it. If only I could get up. But I can't, so this is hell.'
As I trembled in anxiety, the door creaked open.
I turned my head and saw Blundell.
Yep.
This guy likes me too.
Judging by his appearance, he must've rushed here.
The man who usually waddled slowly was drenched in sweat.
'I apareciste it, but… what's that thing he's holding so preciously?'
Damn this 19th century.
You can't even accept kindness at face value.
Every single "treatment" is terrifying.
Can't you just…
Put a cold cloth on my forehead and wait it out?
I'm still a teenager with no chronic illnesses.
I can shake off a cold on my own.
"What did you bring?"
"Ah, this."
Ignoring my silent plea, Blundeld trudged in and pulled out a bottle from his basket.
It looked like some kind of drink.
'Phew…'
Good.
Visiting the sick should mean bringing drinks.
If you wanna splurge, bring fruit or beverages.
That's the universal rule, right?
Some things must transcend time.
"Ah, laudanum."
"This is good."
"Yeah, why didn't we think of this?"
Seemed like a pretty famous drink.
Then again, England's water was so bad that many people drank alcohol or other beverages instead.
In a way, East Asia was blessed to have drinkable water—
'Huh? Laudanum?'
Opium?
That opium?
No way…
There's no way actual doctors would react like this to one of the most infamous drugs in history.
"I'm friends with Thomas, you see. Whenever I catch a cold, I always take this."
Blundeld chuckled and popped the cork off the bottle.
A faint alcoholic scent began filling the room.
'Oh… it's alcohol.'
Giving alcohol to someone with a cold was also a shockingly bad idea.
Whether it's a cold or something else, an infection means pathogens have invaded the body.
To fight them off properly, you need to maintain your condition—starting with hydration.
You might think alcohol counts as liquid, but it ultimately causes dehydration.
On top of that, it swells mucous membranes and worsens blood circulation.
Still, better than opium.
Drugs?
"That friend of mine always said, 'God Almighty, in His mercy, gave humanity opium—no other remedy is as universally effective for pain.'"
"He's not wrong."
"As long as you don't take too much."
"Honestly, I think our hospital should start using opium more seriously."
Oh.
So it is drugs.
Laudanum does contain opium…
"Here, Pyeon."
Blundell was one of the few who could pronounce my name correctly.
That's how close we were—and right now, he was smiling at me like an old friend as he approached.
"It's not as strong as that German-isolated morphine, but it's quite effective."
"Huh?"
Morphine?
Did he just say morphine?
That exists in this era?
'Wait… if it does…'
Couldn't they use it for short-term pain relief after amputations?
Not ideal as anesthesia due to respiratory suppression, but still…
"I'll get you some morphine next time."
"No, that's not necessary."
Morphine used for pain is supposedly less addictive than when used recreationally.
Of course, dependency is still a risk, and even the drugs developed to counter it had their own side effects…
But getting hooked for no reason was a real possibility.
Me, a former surgery professor, as a drug addict?
Unthinkable.
"Here, drink up."
That said, refusing outright seemed difficult.
"If it doesn't work, we go for the ankles?"
"Good idea. Should we spin him too?"
"Perrrfect."
Too many of these bastards were conspiring to kill me.
With even Lister, my greatest ally, turning against me, there was no way to resist.
I had to get him back on my side.
'Opium content… 5%.'
5%.
That would mean about 0.5% morphine, right?
I think I heard that opium is roughly 10% morphine back in pharmacology.
'Maybe just one sip… I am in pain right now…'
Yeah.
Fuck it.
Better than dying.
With that thought, I took a sip of the laudanum Blundell handed me.
"Gah!"
The strong alcohol smell meant it was basically hard liquor.
Opium in alcohol?
Were they trying to kill people?
'Uh…'
A crushing dizziness followed.
Was I in agony?
No idea.
I passed out.
When I woke up, it was morning.
Keeping watch were Joseph, Alfred, Colin, Lister, and Blundell.
Well, "keeping watch"—they were all asleep.
"My ankles!"
I bolted upright and checked—thankfully, they were intact.
No blood, no cuts.
"Phew…"
Relieved, I assessed my condition.