"Alright, line up in a row."
The practice on the corpses didn't take long at all.
Frankly, if you just look at the technique, it's not a surgery that's particularly difficult.
- I'm not happy with the shape. I know it can't be helped, but still, hmm.
As Liston said, if we also consider the shape...
The difficulty would skyrocket, but debating such things at the 19th-century medical level is nonsensical.
Trying to shape it unnecessarily could kill someone.
No, wait.
I'll say it definitively.
They'll die.
They'll all die.
"Let's see..."
So, we decided to jump straight into the real thing, having only grasped the concept of a very simple local flap surgery—that is, rotating skin from the forehead to cover the defect and then stretching and suturing the excised forehead area.
'Ah, my hands hurt.'
Of course, we washed our hands thoroughly before seeing the patients.
Chlorinated lime has now been phased out.
Through numerous experiments, I personally proved that you'd die anyway without going to such extremes.
Why?
Because it hurts too much.
Even so, you still have to wash with phenol and then soap, so it's not like it doesn't hurt at all...
But at least it doesn't make you turn pale as if you're about to die like before.
"You'll go first."
"Uh, uh. Yes, yes!"
Even while my hands were in pain, I scrutinized the patients with an eagle eye.
It's not like I did anything extraordinary; I just selected patients who, even with our current skill level, seemed like they could be reconstructed without issue.
First, it's better if the nasal defect is small.
At the same time, I had to choose someone whose forehead skin seemed like it could stretch well.
And also someone young.
And someone whose overall appearance could tolerate the nose looking a bit odd...
'Honestly, this is much harder than surgeries performed in the 21st century.
Even so, the nasal defect wasn't exactly small.
If plastic surgeons came and saw this, they'd be astonished.
Even the people who taught me probably wouldn't dare imagine this.
Right?
To think there are this many people without noses in the world.
If an uninformed person saw this, they might think there's a punishment in England that involves cutting off the nose.
'There isn't, right? It doesn't exist, right?'
I can't say for sure.
I've seen mounted police beating people—whether they were criminals or wrongfully accused civilians, I don't know—but it was truly frightening.
They didn't even seem to worry about whether the person might die from such a beating.
"Alright, over here."
Thinking that, I led a patient, presumably one who lost their nose to syphilis, into the operating room.
Calling it an operating room is a stretch; until recently, it was used as a laboratory, so it was lacking in many ways.
Still, I could confidently say it was much better than other places.
Starting from the operating table made of smooth iron, everything...
"Ah, it's cold!"
"Please bear with it for a moment. It won't take long anyway."
It's because of infection.
For a long surgery, of course, we'd need to worry about body temperature...
But in the current situation, using unreliable anesthetics, we shouldn't perform lengthy surgeries.
"Y-you will pay, right?"
"Yes, of course. Have you ever heard of our hospital cheating people out of money?"
"N-no. Then, okay."
"Ah..."
Alfred, in charge of anesthesia, was starting to get annoyed.
For a doctor to get annoyed at a patient...
It's actually absurd.
In the 21st century, doing this would mean immediate disciplinary action.
No, I couldn't even conceive of acting that way.
Maybe I only worked at particularly good hospitals, but doctors these days are all kind.
It's an era where you can expect at least minimal kindness even at a convenience store, so it's natural that expectations are higher.
"C-can I survive?"
"Ah."
But this is the 19th century.
It's a place where particularly kind people don't exist.
Even churches are like that.
They scold you instead of offering comfort.
"Why... the words..."
However, the current patient was encountering a kind person.
Why?
Because I can't guarantee his life.
People naturally become kinder when they feel sorry.
"You can survive."
Alfred...
You still have a long way to go.
A doctor needs to be somewhat confident, you know!
If you hesitate in front of the patient while needing to provide treatment, you won't be able to cure even a treatable illness!
'Well... it's true that you only get good at it by actually saving many lives...'
Modern medicine... I'm sorry!
I used to criticize it all the time—'modern medicine has its limits,' 'they still haven't conquered cancer,' and so on—I'm sorry for all of it!
A disease with a 10% mortality rate—people would be shocked, but it's actually a minor illness with a 90% survival rate!
But if you bring that same illness here, the mortality rate would probably be 90%.
Only the truly, incredibly strong could survive in such a situation.
Telling someone to be confident under those circumstances is truly difficult.
Even without that, I could see Alfred looking at me with anticipation.
The patient?
The patient was too.
Where would he have ever seen a doctor who could speak so confidently—and brazenly—in an era where it's taken for granted that you die from surgery.
It's a method of preemptively covering one's back in preparation for the disaster that would occur in most cases.
"Huh?"
"Thinking about it, this is my first time performing this surgery too."
"So you just turn the gas canister?"
"I had no choice."
But when I actually tried to think, nothing came to mind.
So I decided to end the conversation.
"Crazy..."
"Anyway, he's anesthetized. Okay! Let's begin!"
Meaning, he turned the gas canister.
Alfred seemed to have a lot to say, and the other guys probably did too...
But what could I do?
He was already anesthetized.
If this were the 21st century, I could afford to be more casual, but now is not the time.
Everyone had to move as if their lives depended on it.
Anesthesia accidents were common.
"Joseph!"
"Okay!"
First, disinfection is Joseph's job.
I tried it too, but this guy is definitely the best.
Of course, since it's the face, he couldn't scrub as violently as usual.
It wasn't because I was worried about damaging the skin.
How could I possibly perform surgery in the 19th century if I worried about such trivial things...
The problem is the eyes.
What would happen if phenol got into the eyes?
I don't even want to imagine it.
"Colin, the knife."
"Yes!"
So, Joseph disinfected quickly, meticulously, and safely at the same time, using a tool he'd made resembling a cotton swab.
Maybe because he's always cleaning, he was fast even with the tools in that state.
Thanks to that, I was able to make an incision in the patient's forehead almost immediately after anesthesia took effect.
Ziiik.
I'm already familiar with the structure of the blood vessels.
This is something I knew even before learning surgery, back when studying anatomy.
The curriculum of South Korean medical schools isn't so lenient as to let you pass without knowing this.
Ziiik.
Instead of focusing on the shape, I just concentrated on the thought of recreating the missing nose, and the speed turned out to be incredibly fast.
"Already?"
Alfred expressed admiration while simultaneously reaching for the gas canister valve.
I was impressed too, but only inwardly.
'Certainly... Alfred is a thoughtful person. He's perfect for administering anesthesia.'
Unlike Liston, Joseph, or Colin, who were probably imagining themselves making the incision instead of me...
Although Colin is capable while also managing to hand me the tools...
But Alfred, even while watching the same surgery, was adjusting the anesthesia speed.
This is truly amazing.
Especially at a time like this, when anesthesia itself is dangerous and needs to be minimized as much as possible.
"Suture!"
"Yes!"
How could I just stand by when a 19th-century doctor is helping like this.
I had to do my best too.
That said, I didn't meticulously suture it with the thread.
Of course, the thread we're using now—we disinfected it thoroughly!
In phenol, iodine, we did it all!
- Hmm, as expected, it doesn't work.
Our dear Liston had already tried it.
Ah, not on a person, but on a dog.
And that dog died of sepsis.
The inflammation was rampant at every sutured spot...
Ugh.
Even recalling it is horrific.
The only saving grace was that it wasn't performed on a healthy dog, but on an injured one found on the street.
'Sparse... but also not cutting too tightly.'
Anyway, after that, we established a policy among ourselves.
Minimize suturing as much as possible.
Also, minimize the tension on the sutures.
Otherwise, it will rot.
"Done!"
"Okay. Patient!"
"Ugh..."
Probably didn't look very pretty, just like before.
But it wasn't all downsides.
It's fast.
Hehe.
Somehow it feels like I'm doing it roughly and quickly...
Anyway, Alfred has been assisting me for quite a while now, so he timed the anesthesia perfectly to end right as I finished.
"Now. You absolutely must not touch your face."
"Yes, yes. The money...?"
"The money will be given when you go home."
"Ah..."
"Of course, we'll also cover all the costs for your stay here."
"Ah!"
We decided to cut that hideous thing connecting the forehead to the nose three weeks later.
We had to do it that way for it to take hold properly.
- A cost like this... It's worth it. If rumors spread that we beat that Joseph fellow, where else would the Jews go!
Naturally, all five patients undergoing surgery today were to be hospitalized for three weeks.
And in private rooms, so they wouldn't have to see each other's faces.
What we call a private room probably feels more like a prison cell...
"Wow... I have this place all to myself!"
Fortunately, the patients were happy.
Anyway, after finishing the practice and confirming the next day that the patients were still alive, the Director paid a visit.
"As per your instructions, I've found patients considering the nasal defect, the elasticity of the forehead... and age."
"What about their looks?"
"Ugly. I feel a bit bad saying this, but even if they had noses, they'd probably look similar anyway."
"What about the patient to send over there?"
"Only the nasal defect is similar. The forehead... doesn't seem to stretch much."
"What about their looks?"
"Still ugly. How many good-looking people do you think there are on the streets of London?"
"Oh well."
It was the day of the decisive battle.
Chance of losing?
None.
I'm confident I'll win 100%.
I heard somewhere.
A lion gives its best even when catching a mouse.
I, Kim Taepyeong, who can clearly be called a lion... have decided to give my best to catch that mouse named Joseph.
This is an era that doesn't fully understand how important patient selection is for surgery.
'Well... I'm not even sure if they'll decide to use the forehead method or not.'
They probably don't know this method either.
In that case... I win.
"Alright, let's go."
"We are doing it in the square, right?"
"Haa..."
"I did learn about the importance of disinfection from you all. But... what can you do? The citizens of London are furious because they're losing a spectacle."
"But that's all in the past now. With your reputation skyrocketing insanely, a public showdown with that German... Even if I don't know the details, Parliament will probably be pleased too. It's the first spectacle of this magnitude since the execution."
"Ah..."
It's not entirely to my liking, but I headed towards Trafalgar Square with the Director, a place much larger than the usual spot for our surgery shows.