"Ughhh..."
Come to think of it, isn't the lack of exercise an issue for more than just Lord Jamie?
Liston, well… he's naturally tough and enjoys physical work, so it doesn't seem like he needs to exercise separately.
Of course, muscle strength and metabolic disorders aren't necessarily directly related, but still, wouldn't it be weird for me to make Liston exercise?
With so many easier targets around, there's no need to go that far, that's what I meant.
"Isn't this… torture…?"
'Barbell'—or rather, the straight bar I arbitrarily made with weighted objects on both ends that Alfred was carrying on his shoulders—he asked while holding it.
He had been doing squats until just a moment ago.
Meaning, he'd been sitting down and standing up with that thing on his back.
Ah, when I say 'weighted objects,' one might imagine huge bells like those rung in churches, but I'm a sensible person.
They're small ones.
Small.
"Oof, it's heavy, though?"
Still, it's heavier than I thought…
I spoke while watching Liston, who was lifting one of the weights like a kettlebell.
"It needs to be heavy like that to be effective exercise."
"Exercise… Hmm… But, hey."
"Yes."
"Couldn't it get weaker the more you use it?"
Liston was shirtless.
So… his upper body muscles were fully exposed, that's what I meant.
Watching his muscles flex with each lift of the weight, I thought:
'Did this bastard inject anabolic steroids or something?'
Does that make sense?
Can someone naturally become like that?
'But… this isn't an era where you can just eat and die.'
The concept of hormones itself doesn't even exist yet.
Well, if you look hard enough, there might be some budding understanding, but it's safe to say there's no comprehension of hormones at the level we recognize.
And Liston isn't the type to inject juice ground from beast testicles, right?
I never dreamed I'd say this, but Listen is far more sensible than I thought.
I didn't expect such a person to blurt out something like this.
"What are you talking about? Of course, the more you use it, the stronger it gets."
"Is that obvious…? I get that it might be temporary. Look at sailors—their arms are thick. But in the end, they die faster, don't they?"
"That's…"
No, what is this person even saying?
The idea that muscle growth happens by applying a load above a certain intensity to cause micro-tears, which then heal and strengthen the muscle…
'Damn…'
That's 21st-century common sense!
Now that I think about it, the mechanism is incredibly complex.
How on earth did people in the world figure this out?
21st-century humans are truly amazing.
"Nothing to say, huh?"
"No, no!"
"What's the point of pushing so hard only to break down? Especially Lord Jamie… Ah, he's already resting."
"He hasn't even done ten reps?"
"Haven't you considered that those ten reps could shorten Lord Jamie's lifespan? Isn't that common sense? If you don't use it, it stays preserved. Haven't you heard of the word 'aging'?"
Damn…
As if aging wasn't the central topic of 21st-century medicine?
Well… there are cases where not using something seems right.
For example, joints.
If you exercise too intensely, they get damaged and wear out.
There's even a term like age-related arthritis.
But not using them at all isn't good either.
Then they just stiffen up.
Besides, we're talking about muscles right now.
Muscles are… the very embodiment of "the more you use them, the stronger they get."
Of course, the premise is that you don't get injured, but at least with the exercises I'm having them do now, injuries are unlikely.
'Well, if someone gets injured from this level of exercise, they're probably just too weak anyway.'
If someone is so frail that they get injured from this level of exercise, then… it's just not meant to be.
"Brother. What do you think about this, then?"
"What?"
Anyway, persuasion was necessary.
The moment Liston objected, everyone else stopped exercising too.
Even though what I had them do was just young guys doing weighted squats and Lord Jamie doing bodyweight squats, they still resisted.
Human nature is like that.
Who would want to do something difficult?
If there's no compelling reason, they absolutely won't do it.
I'm not sure if it's fortunate or not, but in the 19th century, diseases like polio were not only not conquered but were so common you could trip over them.
"People who can't use one leg… what happens to the thickness of that leg?"
"What does it matter?"
"No… is that really what you should say?"
"Anyway, tell me. I genuinely value your observational skills."
"Well… okay. The legs those people can't use become extremely thin. Just think about it!"
Think about it, you fool!
Aren't you just an ordinary person like everyone else says?
Turn, my brain!
'Oh.'
Maybe my desperate prayer worked.
Or maybe my bullshitting cells just bullshitted again.
I'm not sure what it was, but anyway, a ray of hope to break through this situation suddenly shone through.
"How do you think the Lord made our bodies?"
"You don't know that…? He molded them from clay."
"No, not that!"
"Are you trying to suggest something else? That's heresy from there."
A dark cloud briefly overshadowed the ray of hope, but it's okay.
My way with words is no ordinary skill.
"It's not that, but how cleverly must He have made them?"
"Huh?"
"Wouldn't He have made them efficient?"
"Well… I guess so?"
The 19th century.
An era that upholds science but still holds religion dearly, right?
The moment you bring up God, most people get hooked.
Now I know.
Even if accused of heresy, it's not like I'll be handed over to an inquisition or anything.
But it would put me at a huge disadvantage.
The place I live could be burned down right away.
That's how immense… the belief in religion and the power it wields is.
From my perspective, there's no reason not to use that, that's what I mean.
"Now, then, what should be done with parts we don't use? Let's say our body is a hospital. There's a department that doesn't make money. What do you do then?"
"Downsize or close it… Ah. You mean our bodies are like that too?"
"Yes. The Lord must have made them that way."
"Doesn't that seem a bit heartless…?"
"But you just said He made them efficiently. The British Empire might have an abundance of food, but other places don't, right?"
It's not like the British Empire has a surplus of food.
The production of surplus agricultural products only became possible after chemical fertilizers were introduced…
I'm not an expert in that area of history, so I might not be precise, but it doesn't seem to be the case now.
If it were, the food issues in London's slums wouldn't make sense.
Well… human greed knows no bounds, so it might just be that those who have keep getting more.
"Would you feed and sustain a starving person's leg that they can't use?"
"That would be strange. But what does that have to do with exercise? I'm not even sure if this should be called exercise."
"We're tricking our muscles. We make them think they constantly have to lift heavy things like this. So they need to grow bigger and stronger, that kind of thing."
"Hmm… I see. That's a plausible argument, indeed."
As Liston nodded, Alfred, Joseph, and Colin, who had been watching his reaction, began their squats again.
Then Lord Jamie also let out a sigh and started doing his bodyweight squats again.
At least with Lord Jamie, even if he was grumbling, he seemed serious, which was a relief.
"I used to be agile in my youth… Can't I even do this?"
For someone who's a Duke of the British Empire, it must be unpleasant to be weaker than insignificant fellows.
Well, that was inevitable.
He'd been doomed since he castrated himself.
But if he starts exercising consistently from now on, especially strength training, I can guarantee he'll live longer and healthier than if he didn't.
"So, it's better to exercise."
"Umm… Well, even if this theory seems full of holes… I don't see anyone who stands to lose much, so let's research it further."
"Yes, Brother."
What holes?
I wanted to argue and ask if all those holes weren't in his head, but since I deeply wanted to live long, I held back easily.
Anyway, even if I had brought it up, it probably wouldn't have led to a conversation.
Because of Lord Jamie, who was breathing heavily and emitting a stale breath odor.
I bet his liver isn't doing well, among other things.
Otherwise, his breath wouldn't be this overwhelmingly bad.
No, seriously, the guy next to him is the one who drank urine, so why does this one smell like piss?
"Pyeongsin. What are you thinking?"
"No, nothing."
Of course, as I've repeatedly said, I want to live long and well, so I absolutely didn't reveal my inner thoughts.
I just nodded with a serious expression.
Thanks to that, I was able to continue the conversation with Lord Jamie without incident.
"It's not that I'm trying to scheme to avoid exercise, but I just remembered someone."
"Yes, please go on. And you're not leaving here until you finish 50 reps today."
"W-well… But I have a meeting…"
A meeting…
The Opium War…
It probably doesn't concern me much, but anyway, to properly handle that too, he needed to exercise now.
"Alright, fine."
Perhaps reading the determination in my expression, Lord Jamie first let out a sigh.
I think he even cursed, 'Damn it,' but anyway, since I'd gone this far, it was better to hear him out now.
I keep seeing only his weak side and forget, but isn't this man a Duke?
He's one of the few real powerholders in the British Empire, that's what I mean.
"Anyway… One of the friends I work with has been complaining about frequent headaches lately."
"Headaches?"
"Yes. So I heard he's been visiting your hospital too."
"Our hospital…"
For headache treatments at our hospital, a few things come to mind.
Zemel mainly does bloodletting, and Tomato or Thomas, or whatever…
Anyway, that bastard's centrifuge.
To think he'd try such a treatment on the director…
'Well, there's even a guy cracking peanuts for the Duke.'
I was briefly surprised, but upon reflection, 19th-century doctors are all like that, so I quickly understood.
"But it doesn't seem to be very effective."
"I figured."
It would be more surprising if it were effective.
"He says he feels a bit better after bloodletting, but so what? The man has no color left in his face. He's suffering too much."
"Ah…"
So it does have some effect.
Bloodletting…
Well, if it had no immediate effect at all, how could it have survived for thousands of years?
Anyway, no matter what, continuing such treatment wasn't sustainable.
"Please tell him to come. I'll take a look. I can't promise a cure, but… well, it should be better than what others are doing."
"A-alright. Then I'll be off to my meeting."
"No, you have 40 reps left."
"Right… But you're sure this is really necessary for me, right?"
"Of course. Would I torment someone for no reason?"
"R-right."
For some reason, Lord Jamie's eyes seemed to briefly meet those of the dedicated sommelier again.
I couldn't understand why.