"Whoa!" "Brother!"
Even so, you can't just slaughter a dog in the hospital, right?
Everyone nearby, including me, was of one mind and immediately intervened to stop him.
Only then did Liston seem to realize that this might be slightly inappropriate, and he quietly lowered his knife.
Of course, even so, there was no way the dog would survive.
Buzz.
As soon as we arrived at the villa Liston used near London, the knife flew like lightning.
That's a surgical knife, and even though I mentioned that this dog had rabies, it didn't make much difference.
- Can't you just clean it?
It wasn't exactly a wrong thing to say.
It's not like you can use disposable knives for infected patients.
Although in modern medicine, disposable blades are used for all patients…
Anyway, the rest of the equipment is sterilized and reused, so…
"Yelp!"
Anyway, it was fortunate that Liston was the one wielding the knife.
The dog wasn't small by any means—in fact, it was so large that you'd wonder what it had been eating in London, where even humans struggled to find enough food. Yet, it died in a single stroke.
Since it was a rabid dog, there was no need to inflict unnecessary suffering, so it was for the best that it died quickly.
"Now, but… how are we going to separate the brain and spinal cord here?"
Now the rest was up to me.
Liston also looked troubled, but how would I feel, having to cut it open myself?
'Ugh… I really don't want to do this…'
They called me a genius in anatomy and all, but that's only because I've done it so many times.
What about dissecting a dog?
Who knows?
I'd never even thought about it before.
And if I accidentally prick myself while doing this, it would be a real disaster.
I could get rabies.
There's no cure for that.
"Haha, just watch."
But maybe because I've been playing the role of a Joseon genius for so long, my mouth kept running smoothly despite my thoughts.
Damn…
Why do I keep lying?
"It looks like if we cut here, we can get in."
Honestly, the fur made it hard to see anything.
Yet, my mouth kept producing lies as if I'd mastered ventriloquism.
Squeak.
Anyway, even though my mouth was lying, I still had to be careful, so I put on gloves first.
If I die from dissecting a dog here, it would really be a dog's death, wouldn't it?
"Hmm."
Following my lead, Joseph and Alfred, who were acting as assistants, also put on gloves.
Their expressions weren't great.
Given that we had to extract the dog's brain and spinal cord, it was understandable.
If I told them there was also a risk of infection, they'd probably feel even worse…
'No need to mention that, right?'
Everything was bound to be primitive in the 19th century, but the durability of the gloves was surprisingly superior, even compared to the 21st century.
It had to be.
They were incredibly thick.
That made them less suitable for delicate surgeries, but…
I wasn't trying to save the dog, so it didn't matter.
Squeak.
Anyway, I aimed the scalpel I brought from the hospital at the back of the dog's neck, but then I changed my mind.
I remembered watching a YouTube video about nutria eradication and cooking.
They said that when dealing with a furred animal, you should first skin it.
Thinking about it, that made sense, so I made an incision along the spine.
Since I had no intention of doing anything with this meat, the pressure was relatively low, and I was also quite skilled with a knife, so the pace wasn't too slow.
Tick-tock.
Why?
Because the structure of mammals isn't dramatically different across species.
The principles of dissection are the same.
So, I quickly—though a butcher would probably find it frustratingly slow—skinned the dog and faced its neck again.
Crack.
From here on, it was a series of actions that wouldn't be good to describe in detail.
I had to cut the bones as precisely as possible while preserving the spinal cord and brain.
Some parts got damaged along the way, but most of the cerebrospinal fluid remained intact.
"Now, let's… dry this in the sun."
I placed the result on a tray.
If I knew exactly how Louis Pasteur did it, it would be better, but my memory was only at the level of a family tree, so there were limits.
Whatever it was, he likely aimed to weaken the virus by drying it in the sun.
How long should it dry?
'Before decomposition sets in… probably no more than three days?'
But there was one problem: the sun in France and the sun in London were quite different.
At least we were out in the countryside, so the thick smog wasn't visible, but…
The sun here was just weak to begin with.
No wonder Elon Musk was asked if solar power would work in the UK.
Of course, plants grew quite well here, so solar energy must be transmitted effectively, but…
'I don't know… It's not like this is the only rabid dog around.'
Maybe this was easier than growing mold.
Finding a rabid dog in South Korea would be extremely difficult, but here, stray dogs were everywhere, and many were exposed to rabies.
Thinking that made me feel a bit more at ease.
"Phew."
With a sigh, I brushed off the rest of my worries and handed the tray to Liston.
While I, Joseph, and Alfred were struggling, he had been sipping alcohol and, using his towering height, placed the tray on the roof in one go.
"What if it rains?"
"Ah."
Then he made a chilling remark.
But at the same time, it was something worth worrying about, at least here.
Being an island nation, the UK really did get a lot of rain.
'Weakening the virus… If it gets wet, it won't end well…'
Wouldn't it just rot?
Moisture is the biggest enemy of decay, so it seemed likely.
"Well… let's just pray."
Unlike my face, which was already starting to look rotten, Liston's reaction was indifferent.
Maybe because he was already drunk.
Or maybe because he had no expectations.
Given the miracles I'd shown so far, it was a bit frustrating that he reacted like this, but…
'Rabies was truly an incurable disease for a long time.'
Considering the severity of rabies, it wasn't unreasonable.
Even in the 21st century, once rabies progresses beyond a certain point, it's incurable, right?
In this era, unless you were incredibly lucky, it was a death sentence.
"Yes, we should pray."
Moreover, Liston wasn't the type to be easily persuaded, so I didn't push further.
Prayer was the only option left.
Damn.
To think that as a scientist, I'd come to this.
But there was no other way.
If we had a UV sterilizer, it might be different, but…
Would something like that even exist?
We didn't even have light bulbs.
"Let's drink. Who would've thought we'd be treating syphilis with rotten bread? I can't believe it even though I saw it with my own eyes."
"Me neither."
Liston drank with a genuinely amazed expression.
Technically, I was still too young to drink, but when an adult offers you alcohol, especially Liston, how could I refuse?
Besides, I was also exhausted from the shock of feeding someone rotten bread, something I never imagined I'd do.
Closing my eyes, I kept seeing the person who defecated due to mercury and the one who vomited after eating rotten bread…
'Is this what trauma feels like?'
On top of that, I was worried about whether it would rain on the rabid dog's brain and spinal cord we'd left outside, so my mind and body were quite worn out.
"Ugh…"
I felt like I was about to collapse after just a sip.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know? He only had one drink, right?"
In my dazed state, I heard various conversations going on above my head.
"If I may speak frankly while drunk, it seems like our Pyeong isn't good at much besides medicine."
"Yeah, his… is small, and he can't hold his liquor."
Someone once said that hearing is the last sense to go before death.
Even though it's something every doctor should know, we 19th-century doctors seemed oblivious, just spouting nonsense.
"But is that really true?"
"I've seen it."
"No wonder… he's doomed to be single."
"No, it's not that bad…"
"I'm actually worried about you too."
"Professor…"
"What."
"Never mind."
Unpleasantly, my memory cut off at this point.
When I woke up, I was met with Liston's perfectly fine face.
Judging by the empty bottles, he must have drunk an enormous amount after I passed out, but how could he still look like that?
If he had been born in the past, he would have been an incredibly strong knight, right?
"Awake?"
"Ah, yes."
"Let's go. It's getting late. Why can't you hold your liquor?"
"Well… sorry."
Of course, it's not like I'm not impressive now, so I quietly followed him outside.
Outside stood Joseph and Alfred, who were in much worse shape compared to Liston.
"Ugh…"
"Ugh…"
They looked almost like zombies, but it couldn't be helped.
They had to keep up with Liston, after all.
Anyway, we took a carriage back to the familiar London.
Surrounded by excrement, scurrying rats, threatening stray dogs, and the sky filled with smog…
Describing it made it sound like hell, but once you got used to it, it was livable.
"Ahhh!"
Well, maybe not…
As soon as we entered the hospital, the usual screams started.
This was something we heard every day, but…
Today was a bit different.
"A child…?"
"Hmm. This isn't good."
It sounded like a child's scream.
A girl, perhaps.
This was strange.
For someone with my experience, or even Liston's, you'd think we'd be used to people in pain, but why is it so hard to bear when it's a child?
With that thought, I found myself heading toward the source of the scream.
"H-here, take this…"
There, I saw a young girl with a dog bite on her arm and another girl of similar age holding a frying pan.
Now that I looked, it was the older sister holding the pan who was screaming.
The bitten girl, despite her twisted expression, wasn't making a sound.
"This? It's too big. We need to cauterize it. Where's the dog?"
The doctor in charge was looking for a cautery iron, ready to burn the wound.
They had called for the dog, and of course, it was drooling profusely.
"Damn it."
Without thinking, I cursed and approached the child.
Would it work?
I didn't know.
But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
"Hey, what's your name?"
The first step in treatment is always to ask for the name.
Especially with children, it helps to reassure them.
Distracting them can also alleviate some of the pain.
"Emily Brontë."
"Emily Brontë…?"
But it was me who got distracted.
'Wuthering Heights…?'