Just to be safe, I checked areas other than my ankles.
Sure, bloodletting—a tradition dating back to Hippocrates—typically targeted the ankles.
No idea why, but apparently, ankles were the gold standard for draining blood.
But they couldn't only have used ankles, right?
I'd seen it done on forearms, necks, even noses.
And I wasn't just speculating—I'd watched that bastard Zemmel do it.
'Was he here yesterday? Ah… my head's still foggy…'
He was, right?
Pretty sure he was.
'Damn… that one sip of laudanum messed me up.'
Things were still hazy.
A dreamlike haze, different from a hangover, clung to my mind.
The one saving grace? Despite the effects clearly wearing off, I didn't feel any craving.
No withdrawal symptoms either…
"Sigh."
Anyway, after a quick check, I confirmed nothing had been done to me.
At the very least, no one had taken a knife to me yesterday.
"Hah… huh?"
Only then did I realize my condition had improved significantly.
Definitely…
No fever, less body aches.
It didn't feel like the opium's doing—more like I'd just slept really well.
Plus, compared to most Londoners in this era, my nutritional status was way better.
At worst, this was just a stress-induced cold. My body wasn't weak enough to be taken down by that.
'Problem is, they'll credit the damn laudanum for this…'
It was inevitable.
This was an era where statistics, theories, and hypotheses were tossed aside like trash.
Well, in other fields, they at least tried experiments—but medicine? Pure anecdotal supremacy.
"Ugh."
The moment I thought that, a headache hit.
Like a surge of cortisol flooding my system.
My heart rate spiked too…
Haaah.
"Hm?"
Whether it was my groaning or just his time to wake up, Dr. Lister's eyes snapped open.
"Eek!"
I'd seen that expression somewhere before…
Where was it…?
Ah.
A zombie.
Since when did a human face look so terrifying?
"Oh, you're awake?"
Despite the nightmare fuel, he was a decent guy. The moment he noticed I was conscious, he walked over.
Along with the stench of…
Morning breath.
But I wasn't stupid enough to visibly react.
'Later… I need to lecture them on dental hygiene.'
Weird.
Even in Caesar III, an ancient game I'd played, dentistry existed—though "treatment" just meant yanking rotten teeth.
But these people? Couldn't even brush properly.
"Yes, thanks to you."
"Thanks to the laudanum, you mean."
"No, that's… I think it was just the rest—"
"Haha! This guy. You were moaning and muttering in your sleep. Sounded like Korean… Point is, you were out of it."
Of course I was!
You drugged me!
With alcohol-mixed opium while I had a fever!
'Now that I think about it… I could've died.'
Still better odds than being bled, though.
Lister here…
He wasn't as blood-soaked as before, but he still wasn't sterilizing his tools.
"Oh? Ah, glad you're okay."
"I was worried."
"We were concerned, Professor."
Our conversation woke the others—Joseph, Alfred, and Colin—who shuffled over.
Sure, they'd tried to kill me, but their hearts were in the right place.
Their sincerity actually lifted my mood.
Or maybe it was just the fever fading.
"Haha! See? My doing! For a mild cold, laudanum beats bloodletting!"
Blundell cackled, basking in the moment.
This lunatic…
Since when is a doctor pushing opium considered—
Normal?!
Another headache threatened as I fought to keep my expression neutral.
-Huh? Huh?!
-Still in pain? Another sip!
-No, no! Bring the knives!
I could see it.
The heroic physicians of the 19th century, doing their best to kill me…
No wonder nobles just observed sick people at home.
Calling a doctor was a death sentence.
"Hah."
"Still unwell?"
"Ah, no. I'm much better."
"Haha! Laudanum strikes again!"
And just like that, I'd reinforced their delusion.
But what choice did I have?
Survive first, worry later.
If I got addicted, the world would lose a great physician.
And no, that's not arrogance—it's fact.
"Should we get you some food?"
"Uh, yeah. I actually asked my father to prepare a restorative dish."
"Restorative dish…?"
"Yeah! Restorative!"
Ah, boyangshik—food meant to replenish the body.
Scientifically, the concept had some merit… and some flaws.
For someone nutritionally depleted, certain dishes could help.
But in the 21st century, most just made you fat.
'For me right now, though…'
I glanced at my arms.
Compared to the average laborer on the streets, I was doing fine.
At least I hadn't lost my baseline muscle.
But "bulky"? Not quite.
'Should be okay.'
Yeah.
They wouldn't put opium in food, right?
That's just common sense.
'…Does common sense even exist here?'
Suddenly uneasy, I asked Alfred:
"It doesn't have… opium or anything, right?"
"Huh? No, of course not. Want me to add some?"
"NO! Just—just regular food, please!"
"I can mix it in if—"
"NO. NO. Just the food."
"Fine. Anyway, it's made with eel. Had someone catch it fresh yesterday."
"Oh."
Eel?
They had that here?
I couldn't help but salivate.
'Eel… delicious fish.'
A bit bony, but…
Grilled right, even just with salt, it's incredible.
'Wouldn't expect gochujang marinade here, but…'
Even in England, eel had to taste good.
"You like eel? Should've made it sooner. Didn't realize you were this weak."
"Ah, Pyeon was always a bit frail back in Upton… but London made it worse."
"City life's rough on country folk.
"Exactly. I'm fine, but this one's especially… rustic."
This conversation was infuriating.
If this were 21st-century Londoners, fine—but 19th-century bumpkins calling me a country hick?
I'd only gotten weaker because I missed my mother's cooking…
'Speaking of… it's been a while since I saw her.'
Mother.
Even if she wasn't the same as in my memories…
Could I really not call her that now?
She'd raised me—a strange child—with nothing but love.
'Anyway, when's the eel coming?'
Instead of snapping at their nonsense, I waited patiently.
For eel, I could endure anything.
Then—a knock at the door.
"Must be here."
"Oh."
"Damn, you really like it. I'll ask Father to make it more often. Must've been a pain to catch, but… for my savior and mentor? Worth it."
"Thanks, Senior."
"Thanks? Hah! After all the meals and beds I've given you, this is what gets gratitude? Come in!"
Alfred grinned, pleased by my reaction.
Honestly, everyone in the room perked up.
Creak.
Amid the chatter, the door opened, and a servant entered—
Carrying a dish of eel.
'Hm.'
The rich, grilled aroma I'd expected was… absent.
Maybe it had cooled on the way.
"Hm."
"Eel jelly!"
"Haha! This is delicious."
"The perfect restorative. Tastes like health."
As I waited, the others—already served—started raving.
'Eel… jelly?'
What kind of insanity was this?
Jelly?
Who turns eel into jelly?
Is that even possible?
Clatter.
After an eternity, my plate arrived.
And I—
I was speechless.
'What… is this?'
Why does it look like that?
"Here, eat up."
"Dig in."
"We've got an eel jelly fan here!"
"Come on, Pyeon. We're fine—you have it."
"Yes, Professor, you first."
Mistaking my horrified silence for selflessness, they all chimed in.
Truthfully, I was just trying to figure out how this abomination was made.
Chopped eel—
Suspended in a yellowish, gelatinous… something.
Who knew eel could look so unappetizing?
Classic England.
These people tried to make food taste bad.
I wanted to fling the plate, but with everyone watching…
I had no choice.
"Gulp."
"That good?"
"Y-Yeah… so good…"
Tears welled up.
God…
How…
How did they make it taste this rancid and weird?
"Sniff."
"Stop crying and eat. I'll go catch more eel myself."
"Please do."
Amid their "encouragement," I forced down bite after bite.
Around halfway through, another knock came.
This time, the door opened without waiting.
A butler stepped in.
"Young Master."
"Yeah?"
"Lord Damien sent word asking when he can see you. What shall I say?"
"Ah… he's bedridden…"
Before Alfred could finish, I launched myself upright.
A bit dizzy, but better than eating another bite.
"I'll go."
"What? Even for Lord Damien—"
"No, I'm a doctor. I need to check on my patient!"
"Wow… he'll be moved."
Moved, my ass—my stomach was about to stage a revolt.
I forced myself up and followed the butler out.
Seeing how sickly I still looked, everyone piled into the carriage with me.
'My savior… savior.'
As I discreetly spat my half-chewed eel jelly out the window, I thought of Lord Damien.
Right now, I didn't care about surgical sites or follow-ups.
I was just grateful.