Experiments weren't my exclusive property.
It feels a bit off to say that's obvious.
There is such a thing as experimental ethics, right?
It's a bit strange for me, who's conducting human experiments, to talk about ethics, but...
Anyway, diabetes is such a huge deal that as soon as rumors started spreading, it seems people from all over the hospital were jumping in.
Our hospital was relatively better off.
Why?
"Because if you get caught, you die. Haha."
Is it an experiment I'm doing alone?
Is it my patent?
No matter how much I say England is uncivilized and all that, this is a place where the concept of patents has been established since before the 14th century, and now in the 19th century, of course, it's legally protected.
Well... it's not as strictly enforced as in the 21st century, but anyway, it was blatantly obvious that developing this would make a fortune.
Me and Liston are the main parties, and we transferred some rights to the Director and our underlings...
Blundell isn't an underling, but anyway, we transferred some.
I probably couldn't protect it alone...
But if we all join forces like this, it's easier to protect.
"Ugh, ugh ugh ugh! P-please, spare me!"
But it seems money is truly terrifying.
To dare to try and take a scoop from Liston's and...
My share—I, Kim Taepyeong, a former Qing gang boss and currently a shaman—so many people are trying.
Well... the magical solution—the fact that it needs to be processed with a solution mixed with alcohol and an acidic solution—was absolutely not leaking out.
Of course, the fact that we were conducting experiments like feeding dog urine to prisoners also wasn't known.
Although rumors are already circulating that we've moved on to human experiments, even so, I didn't expect them to just start experimenting on people like this.
"How did this happen?"
At my words, the patient looked at the caregiver who came with him.
Then the caregiver averted his eyes.
What's this?
"How did this happen?"
He seems to know, so why isn't he talking?
When I pressed him, he suddenly knelt down.
"Why are you doing this?"
"P-please, spare me. It was just my greed."
"What greed?"
"That... the diabetes treatment..."
"Diabetes treatment?"
"Yes."
"Hmm."
What kind of treatment did he give that made the patient's stomach end up like this?
Judging by the fact that the person has no flesh to begin with...
I doubt he even had diabetes in the first place.
It might be different if it were Type 1, but you have to remember this is the 19th century.
If it were Type 1 diabetes... it's hard to survive past your teens.
They'd be almost dead...
"What did you do?"
"Th-that..."
"Won't you talk?"
Liston, seeing my conversation drag on, came over curious, but now with a face like a vicious deity, he cut into the conversation.
At his words, the doctor—he must be a doctor, right?—instead clammed up.
It's probably not stubbornness.
He's just too scared.
"G-g-gak."
"Strange. Hyung thinks you'll definitely tell us everything?"
"I-I'll talk. Please. Please, this! Ugh!"
If you're too scared, your body freezes, you know.
But did you know this?
If you get even more scared, your tongue loosens.
This gentleman here is the same.
The moment Liston grabbed his neck tightly and pressed him to the floor, he started blabbering a lot.
"Talk in this state. If you don't, I'll make it so you can never talk again?"
"Ugh, ugh aah!"
"I said talk, not scream. Don't need your tongue? Want it removed?"
"N-no. It's! The reputation of you two in the London underworld... it's so great, isn't it?"
Oh.
Is it because he's a doctor after all?
His brain works a bit.
He starts with praise.
Liston is also the type to be swayed, so his grip loosened a bit.
But that was only by Liston's standards, so the doctor still looked like he was in pain.
Even so, he seemed definitely more comfortable than before and started spewing words frantically.
"Keep going."
"So, there's a rumor that if you follow what you two are doing, something... something good will happen."
"Huh... look at these bastards? So?"
"Someone saw you going to the slaughterhouse. And bringing back pancreases! And lately, looking for diabetic patients, that's not a secret, is it?"
"So you thought the pancreas and diabetes treatment were related."
"Yes, yes."
"Who else knows besides you?"
"Huh? That's... too many..."
"Bring them all."
"No, that's. Ugh aah aah aah!"
"Can't you understand? Don't need your ears?"
"No, I'll take responsibility! All of them! Ugh aah!"
Liston only let him go after the doctor was on the verge of crying tears and snot.
Meanwhile, the patient...
Was terrified.
Completely.
"Now, patient."
"Eek."
"You went because they paid you?"
"Th-that's right. Please, just that money!"
"No, it's not like I'm a robber."
"J-just spare my life!"
He was trembling in fear.
Rightly so.
The doctor still hadn't gotten up.
And... the patient's condition was really bad to begin with.
He looks like he's going to die.
"I can't promise that."
"Ugh."
"He fainted."
"Don't you think your timing was a bit... off?"
"Huh?"
I said that because he looked like he was going to die, so what?
As I blinked with that expression, Liston shrugged his shoulders.
I don't get it.
Anyway, the important thing now is the patient.
"What did you do?"
"I... I squeezed the pancreas and injected it into his stomach."
"With what?"
"This..."
"Good grief... you damn bastard, really."
While I was examining the patient's condition, Liston looked at the syringe—the 'syringe' the doctor had brought out—and cursed.
Actually, it's no surprise.
The syringe as we know it took its form around the end of the 19th century.
Before that...
"Just what... haven't you even played with water guns?"
Hollow needles themselves were only invented in the mid-19th century.
They probably got the idea from playing with reed water guns, but they'd been doing that since Egyptian times, so it took thousands of years for the hypodermic needle to emerge.
So what the doctor presented was... well...
It was a blade with a groove; he probably let the pancreatic juice or whatever flow through the groove. I can understand that too.
"That..."
"Did this madman really use this thing as a syringe?"
"Huh? Sy... what?"
"Never mind, you don't need to know. Anyway, you squeezed the pancreatic juice straight in... Hey, Pyeong. What do you think will happen?"
But since Liston knew the correct answer, and didn't know how many trials and errors it took to develop it, he seemed furious.
Normally, a civilized person would endure even when angry, but Liston isn't the type to do that.
Physically, and as his connections with the police grow stronger over time, he's socially fine too.
"Ugh."
So he immediately smacked the back of his head, venting his anger and knocking him out so he couldn't hear the conversation.
"Digestive enzymes... have affected the patient's peritoneum."
"Even the peritoneum? Let me see."
"Look here."
"Damn it."
Say what you will about Colin, isn't he the most enthusiastic?
Ah, Joseph might feel a bit wronged if he hears this.
He's currently in the middle of a handwashing campaign with Blundell.
Maybe because it's especially important during Caesarean sections, lately he's been paired up with Blundell.
At this rate, he might become an obstetrician-gynecologist.
Anyway, Colin is working like a man possessed.
Look at him holding the gas lamp now.
He's desperate, utterly.
Thanks to that, we could examine the patient's wound in detail, though it didn't feel like a good thing.
"What do we do with this?"
"I don't know. Umm..."
The patient is groaning.
The thermometer...
We have one, but from what I gathered, it just exists. It's not really usable, so I'm checking by touch, and just by touching him, I can tell he's burning up with fever.
"A-am I going to die?"
"I'll do my best."
"Ugh..."
"Would it cause trouble if I just said I'd save him?"
"How can a doctor say something he can't take responsibility for?"
"Couldn't you? Who's going to say anything?"
"Hmm."
Is that so?
Well, who would say anything?
There's no such thing as a lawsuit here.
Even if someone tries to sue, it's obvious the police will crush it.
"Patient, I will definitely save you."
"Ugh..."
"After tut-tutting all this time, if you say that, will he really believe it?"
So I changed my wording, but he still has something to say.
I'm wronged...
"Anyway, what do we do with this?"
"First... hmm."
Should I try the rotten bread technique?
I briefly looked back at the patient's face.
He's clearly a desperate laborer.
He probably didn't even have diabetes.
In a way, that might be fortunate.
If he'd been given insulin without high blood sugar, he might have died on the spot.
Isn't insulin something that can actually be used for poisoning too?
But having digestive enzymes injected directly into his stomach, and a stomach with little fat at that... this is just...
"A large part of the skin has melted. And there's infection around it too."
"He probably injected it without disinfecting first, right?"
"Likely. Just look at the state of that thing he calls a needle."
The needle had blood and fat caked on it, just like Liston's knife had been before.
"Don't tell me he injected other patients besides this one?"
"Ah... there's no way he was the first."
"Hey, hey, wake up!"
While Liston was waking up the doctor he'd knocked out, I examined the patient's wound more closely.
The digestive enzymes probably melted the skin and also slightly dissolved the peritoneum.
But the problem now isn't the enzymes; it's the bacteria.
Well...
The solution he poured in couldn't have been clean, right?
The needle he used was like that too, and he probably didn't clean the skin.
'Debridement is needed. The surrounding area is all rotting away.'
It's impossible to close that gaping wound right now.
'How do I convince them to remove the rotten flesh?'
Saying maggots occurred by chance is probably too difficult for right now.
For one, Joseph is bound to throw a fit.
And putting maggots in a stomach is a bit much.
If even one of them bores through internally, it'll be chaos, utter chaos.
'Ah, right. I can say miasma is here. We confirmed it exists even in healthy tissue... Good.'
Fortunately, hasn't the general understanding of the people around me changed significantly by now?
So I cut out a part of the patient's lesion and showed them through the microscope that it was teeming with miasma, and thus I was able to cut out a part.
I disinfected it too, but...
"Ugh, ugh aah aah! J-just kill me instead!"
"Should we anesthetize him?"
"Yeah, that would be good."
The disinfectants we have are just phenol, chloride of lime, iodine, and alcohol, right?
These are all so potent that they cause pain even on intact skin, so if you spray them directly on a wound, the pain is almost enough to cause convulsions.
The moment the patient screamed, I saw someone's face turn pale and run away, but it was too bothersome to catch them, and the Director was here too, so I just changed the subject.
"This happened because you injected without disinfecting. Even if alcohol production is difficult... you must do it. Understand?"
"Understood. But..."
"But?"
"This wasn't your doing, was it? Are you trying to persuade me?"
"No. What kind of evil person do you take me for?"
"Alright, I'll believe you."
He keeps asking if alcohol is absolutely necessary, it's so annoying.