"Doctor Matthew!"
It seems the person who collapsed was a doctor.
I had a feeling from the way he was grumbling earlier…
He must have been quite an important figure, as King William IV withdrew the sword he was about to place on my shoulder and turned his attention to him instead.
Well…
To be fair, no matter who the other person is, it's only human nature to stop what you're doing when someone seems on the verge of death.
Though I tried to act indifferent, it seems I, too, am human—enough to desperately want to become a knight.
You can tell by the fact that my first reaction wasn't worry for someone else but rather irritation.
"H-he's not breathing!"
"Oh no…"
"Dear Lord…"
But I am a doctor.
And one who considers himself quite excellent at that.
So, my irritation was short-lived, and before I knew it, I was getting up and walking toward the collapsed person.
Liston was with me, but I was certain the others were moving for reasons different from mine.
Why?
Because the clear concept of cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) only emerged in the 20th century.
Having worked in trauma surgery, which is notoriously tough even among surgical fields, I know this for sure.
"Your Majesty…"
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
"Doctor Matthew… he was an authority on headaches."
The King had already approached.
One of the doctors nearby placed his hand near Matthew's nose and shook his head.
And indeed, Matthew had collapsed with a pained expression frozen on his face.
Probably…
At this point, it would be accurate to say he was dead.
'No wonder the name sounded familiar.'
Matching Matthew, headaches, and his face, I realized I'd seen this bastard before.
He's the one who was obsessed with putting anyone with a headache into an electric chair.
Could it be that even the King had sat in that chair?
It's a good thing nothing had happened so far, but if someone had died in that chair, by the 21st century, William IV would have been infamous as the king who met the stupidest death in history.
Cutting off your own testicles is tragic and ridiculous enough, but sitting in an electric chair voluntarily…?
"Our friend Doctor Matthew…"
Matthew, who is now becoming a deceased person, wasn't a good doctor even as a polite lie.
The guys sincerely worried about him were probably similar types.
Now that I think about it, Doctor Thomas too…
Ah, he might have forgotten, but this guy treated headaches by putting people in some contraption—whether a gravity accelerator or a centrifuge—and spinning them until they passed out…
He's the one who even made Liston lose consciousness several times.
"Wait a moment!"
It's precisely because of guys like these that I must save Matthew now.
Wouldn't this allow me to once again impress upon William IV just how remarkable a doctor I am?
No, not only that, but it would also shut the mouths of all the other bastards.
'With guys like these around, he might not last four years—he could die within a month.'
Of course, historically, William IV lived a full life.
But whether because of me or something else, hasn't the Opium War already begun?
If wars can come and go, wouldn't it be wise to think human lifespans might fluctuate too?
"Huh?"
"This bastard!"
"The sorcerer!"
"Murderer!"
William IV was merely surprised, but the other doctors glared at me as if they wanted to kill me.
On top of the fight over饭碗 (rice bowl, meaning livelihood), someone had actually died.
And since he died right after cursing me, terms like "sorcerer" seemed to carry some credibility.
Well, not that…
I mean, that's how it must have looked to them.
I absolutely don't believe I have any hidden powers myself.
That's not a thought befitting a medical professional, after all.
"Your Majesty. If you grant me a moment, I will attempt to revive Doctor Matthew."
"Huh? Can you save him?"
"Not 100%... but I can try."
"Your Majesty! This man is a sorcerer, not a doctor!"
As William IV hesitated at my words, one of the doctors interrupted.
Thomas also seemed to have something to say, but since he's from the same hospital as me and the director has been openly supporting me lately, he had to hold his tongue.
"Silence, you fool! How dare you interrupt while His Majesty is speaking!"
Well, maybe it's not that—perhaps it's just because they're afraid of Liston.
Thanks to kneeling 20 seconds earlier than me, he was already a knight and rebuked the other with an authoritative voice, as if he had been a noble from birth.
It wasn't just a loud voice; it seemed infused with some inner force, as the opponent trembled and instinctively stepped back.
In fact, not just that person, but even the guards, the nobles who had come to watch the long-awaited knighting ceremony, and the dignified William IV himself all took a step back from Liston.
"Your Majesty, the claim that I am a sorcerer is a baseless rumor. Although some of my procedures may appear that way, they are all medically grounded treatments. Do not be swayed by the words of the ignorant."
"Hmm. But this man is not a criminal, to handle his body so freely…"
"There is no time. If we do not act quickly, he will truly die!"
"Is, is that so?"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
At my words, murmuring began to spread again among the crowd.
It wasn't coming from any faction intending to slander me.
Rather, it was from my side.
'Are they thinking of capturing the soul before it departs?'
'Truly, he is a Pyeongshin-in (平民? 平神人? unclear, possibly a title or term).'
'Why does he keep denying he's a sorcerer?'
But they're calling me a sorcerer.
Thinking about it, the situation does warrant such thoughts.
If you can revive a dead person and insist it must be done quickly, wouldn't that seem suspicious to 19th-century eyes?
Strangely, the more I perform medically based treatments, the more misunderstandings seem to pile up…
"Is that so? Then proceed for now."
"Yes, Your Majesty! I am deeply grateful!"
It seems William IV had similar thoughts.
Seeing him step back half a step, not just from Liston but from me too, I could roughly guess.
I've become an object of fear even to the King.
And not just any king, but the King of the British Empire.
"Sigh…"
Anyway, I finally faced the patient.
Checking his pulse, his heart had stopped.
Roughly estimating, it had been stopped for over a minute.
Wondering if it was suffocation, I opened his mouth and visually inspected it, even inserting a finger to check, but there was nothing.
'It seems the soul is escaping through the mouth.'
'Ah… is that so?'
'At least that guy seems to think so.'
'Huh?'
'I saw that friend cursing the Pyeongshin-in and making eye contact just before he collapsed.'
'Good heavens…'
Strange conversations kept reaching my ears, but I decided to ignore them.
Seen up close, Matthew had a protruding belly and looked quite old.
If it's a myocardial infarction…
CPR alone might not be enough.
Well… with luck, he might survive, but even that probability decreases over time.
As human Kim Taepyeong, I could mingle with them, chat, and even rejoice at the death of what could be considered my rival.
But Doctor Kim Taepyeong is different.
Not born that way, but trained to be.
"No…"
"Strip his clothes?"
"Y-Your Majesty! You must stop him!"
So, I hurriedly began stripping his clothes.
Several doctors, including one who had previously been threatened by gangsters, stepped forward to stop me, but none actually came close.
With Liston, who was several times scarier than any gangster, by my side, and the King not saying a word, it was only natural.
"Brother."
"Huh?"
"Watch what I'm doing now, and then do the same."
"Uh… alright."
I considered that fortunate and began pressing firmly on the chest of Doctor Matthew, now exposed after removing his clothes.
He had a relatively good physique for his time, but still, he was a 19th-century man.
Thump.
Thump.
In contrast, I've done some fitness training, and above all, I'm skilled at applying weight effectively.
Working in trauma surgery requires chest compressions more often than one might think.
I've even cut open someone's chest next to the heart, reached in, and squeezed it directly.
"Uh… Pyeong?"
"Yes!"
"Won't his bones break?"
"You have to press that hard!"
"Are you waking him with pain…?"
"D-details later!"
"Alright. Still weak, though."
But that doesn't mean you can talk while doing it.
It might be different for Liston, though…
Chest compressions are about manually pumping the heart.
You have to press with the intention of breaking ribs, not just as a possibility, for it to be effective.
'One of my seniors saved someone like this but got sued for breaking their ribs.'
Honestly…
Thinking about that, the 19th century might be better.
Here, even if someone dies, you're less likely to get sued.
"He, he…"
"I hear cracking sounds…"
"Madman…"
"I heard in the East, there's a punishment called 'dismemberment of the corpse'! Is he perhaps…!"
Criticism followed, but it was okay.
"Aren't you afraid of this guy's curse?"
"Look at the results! How many people has Doctor Pyeongshin-in saved so far!"
What they say and what we say are similar, but…
They're just doctors, while we have a Duke on our side.
"Brother."
"Uh, got it."
Moreover, as I began to tire and sweat profusely, those with rational minds seemed to think I was performing a legitimate procedure and gradually quieted down.
Thump.
Liston, being sharp-eyed, was pressing down exactly as I did, with consistent depth and rhythm.
In fact, with his overflowing strength, he was holding back just enough to maintain steady pressure.
"Good, brother."
"Hmm. But why are we doing this?"
He could even hold a conversation while doing it.
I should bring up the topic of martial arts if we get closer.
Or perhaps he's a knight who has learned aura from fantasy.
Anyway.
"The heart is a pump, right? Supplying blood through pipes called blood vessels."
"Ah, right."
"You're squeezing it now,代替ing for the stopped heart."
"Ah… Aha. So, we don't press continuously?"
"No. The heart needs time to refill with blood."
"But then, do we have to keep doing this?"
"No, not exactly."
For young people, we might press for up to 30 minutes.
But Doctor Matthew, though I'm not sure, is in his 50s.
And not 21st-century 50s, but 19th-century 50s—already with one foot in the coffin, so 10 minutes should be enough.
Besides, my stamina probably couldn't last longer.
Even if Liston is a monster, doing this steadily for minutes…
'He's doing it steadily?'
Like a CPR machine.
"Brother, wait a moment."
"Huh?"
After pressing for over 5 minutes, it was time to check.
So I felt for a pulse and couldn't help but smile.
"His heart is beating again."
"Heavens…"
But the expression on William IV's face as he looked at me contained more than just admiration.