"The money… it's really rolling in, isn't it?"
Alfred is the main assistant for diabetes treatment, but Liston also plays a key role.
It couldn't be helped.
For various reasons, Liston and I are practically one entity now.
Of course, true to his title as the amputation master, he seems to need to cut off a limb or two every day to feel satisfied, so he's been continuing that here as well…
'Well, since he's mainly focusing on amputating diabetic feet, you could say it's part of diabetes treatment.'
I was lost in thought for a moment, but the important thing is that we're really making a lot of money.
Even though the well-off are more prone to diabetes, we only see ten, maybe twenty patients a day, yet it's still lucrative.
In terms of revenue alone, it's incomparably less than the main hospital, but the net profit is enormous.
To be honest, apart from producing alcohol, the only real cost is our labor.
But… except for me, Liston, and Blundell, the students aren't paid yet, right?
"Exactly. At this rate, we're going to make a killing, aren't we?"
"Well… the research you want to do will probably cost a bit, but this is still a huge amount."
"I'm starting to wonder if I'll even want to accept payment."
Blundell says that, but in reality, Blundell just gets a slightly higher incentive.
Since Liston and I are on a profit-sharing model…
And our shares are overwhelmingly larger compared to those who invested money, so the money is really pouring in.
I'm not even sure how much I'm making.
"We started making a lot of money when we began enthusiastically amputating limbs, but now we're making even more than that."
"Is it that much?"
"So much so that it's worrying. Look today too. We finished our work before lunch, but just look at the money."
"Well…"
It's not a world with credit cards, is it?
And there's no health insurance either.
Even by 21st-century standards, the diabetes treatment we're providing now would probably be considered non-insured treatment anyway, but regardless, we're receiving 100% cash payments.
The money we received was piled on the dining table, and the visual was almost violent.
It looks like you could feel full without eating anything.
"But the money going to the chemists isn't small either."
"Ah… you mean that rotten bread and arsenic?"
"Yes."
"Will that really work…?"
Liston seemed worried, thinking I was up to no good.
Realistically speaking, following Liston's lead would be the right thing to do.
This guy…
With the money he's making, he's not only indulging in luxuries but also buying land and houses.
In comparison, I'm just following Liston's lead, buying only a little for myself, and dumping the rest into research over there.
And it's not even like it's research that seems particularly promising.
I don't even know how this will turn out myself.
I only know that penicillin comes from mold and that one of the arsenic compounds is effective against syphilis.
If I had known it would be like this, I should have studied the history of medicine a bit more.
'Well… I didn't have time to study something that wasn't even in the curriculum anyway…'
Anyway, I just shrugged at Liston's question.
Since I didn't know either, it was an honest answer.
"We just have to try. We're still young, after all."
"That's true. Well… you're not thinking about marriage yet, are you?"
"Marriage?"
Marriage…
If I include my past life, I'm quite old.
But considering only this life, I'm still a teenager.
'I prefer Korean women, you see…'
And for some reason, British people are a bit… well.
Something…
Just something.
Objectively speaking, the biggest reason is probably the clash of values between a 21st-century person and a 19th-century person; racial differences probably don't matter much, but…
'Or is it because I haven't seen any pretty people?'
Although my situation is improving relatively quickly, the people I meet are still mostly patients.
It's taboo to develop romantic feelings for patients, so I don't have such thoughts anyway, and regardless of the era, very sick people are mostly poor, so there are too many people in a broken state rather than being well-dressed.
"I have someone."
While I was pondering that, Liston made a shocking statement.
Well…
I guess it's natural to want to get married.
It might sound anachronistic from a 21st-century perspective, but I happen to know a line that would fit right in in this era:
-It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
It's the first line of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Since it's a novel written by someone who died not long ago, it's safe to say it's a line that defines this era.
'Can I do it?'
The problem is that wanting something doesn't mean you can have it.
The other person has to want it too, right?
Unfortunately, our Liston…
"Why are you looking at my head?"
"Huh? Did I do that?"
"You clearly did."
"No, I didn't. I was looking towards the door."
"Why are you looking there? There's no one there."
"No, there is someone."
Lord.
If you are there, please quickly…
Creeak.
Huh?
Are you really there?
"Huh? Really?"
"Yes, someone has arrived."
"Didn't you see the sign saying we're closed?"
The man who appeared as if in answer to my prayer had to face Liston's growling, who was sensitive about his head.
Normally, in such a situation, even if you've done nothing wrong, you'd apologize and run away, but…
"I came on Lord Jamie's introduction."
The man just stood there blankly and only said that.
Finally, Liston, who had gotten his anger under control, quickly shook his head and looked at the other person.
The man was wearing a jet-black suit and had also taken off his jet-black hat, handing it to an attendant beside him.
His glasses had gold rims…
The pocket watch he was holding was also gold.
Just the pocket watch itself is a luxury item, so you could tell his status at a glance.
"Ah… Aah."
Additionally, his pale face suggested he was probably the headache patient Lord Jamie had mentioned earlier.
I didn't hear the details, but he's a member of parliament, right?
And among them, if he's involved in planning a rather large-scale evil like the Opium War, he must be a high-ranking one.
I suddenly felt gravity pulling on my forehead and bowed deeply.
"Well, well. Welcome."
Looking beside me, Listn seemed to be feeling the same gravity, as he was also bowing repeatedly.
Though, given his immense height and build, it did give a somewhat wobbly feeling…
Fortunately, the other person was so high-ranking that he probably didn't even think in that direction.
"Yes. I know your hours are over, but thank you for your hospitality. You seem to be having a meal… Should I wait?"
He chuckled lightly and waved his hand, but for some reason, I felt like we shouldn't just stuff our faces.
Well… ever since I was reborn here, especially after coming to London, I've long lost any attachment to meals anyway.
Eating this stuff…
Huh?
What's the point of eating this?
"Not at all. Let's see you right away."
"As I heard, you're very straightforward. Truly Pyeongsin. Quite honorable for an honorary white man."
I lost count of how many insults were packed into that one sentence.
If I followed my temper, I'd really want to smack him one…
But I had to endure.
What else can I do?
He's a high-ranking person.
No… the fact that a doctor even thinks about hitting a patient is a problem in itself.
How did I even end up like this?
"You have headaches?"
Of course, I'm an expert at pretending to be fine, so I could outwardly ask proper questions.
The MP—that is, the patient—nodded.
Maybe because his face was pale, he looked particularly pained, and I felt I should do my best for him.
"Since when has it been going on?"
"For quite… a long time."
Quite a long time.
Such an imprecise expression.
Well, it was fine.
This is nothing.
"How many years is 'quite long'?"
"What a dreadful thing to say. It's been a month or two."
"A month or two… Hmm. Is it just the headache? Or were there any other symptoms?"
"Umm…"
The patient's eyes lit up at my follow-up questions.
It couldn't be helped.
Even though my questions seem like nothing special, they are 21st-century-style questions.
The practice of taking patient histories only became fully established surprisingly recently, within the last few decades, so this way of understanding patients must feel unfamiliar in this era.
From the patient's perspective, they would immediately feel which is better.
"I'm not sure… Well. I do feel a bit dizzy sometimes."
"Before bloodletting? Or after?"
"That… I'm not sure. Maybe after? Is there a connection?"
There is a connection.
A damn big one.
A huge one.
'He said he's been to our hospital.'
I want to strangle that bastard Zemel, but I can't because of fate.
Actually, even though it's the same hospital, I could strangle him if I wanted to, but the director is so supportive that I can't betray him, so I hold back.
"I see. So the main symptom is the headache, correct?"
"Yes."
"It's been going on for a month or two."
"That's right."
"Hmmm."
So what do I do now?
Normally, I'd check blood pressure, and if something seems off, I'd order a CT scan or just prescribe medication and observe.
Even though I was a surgeon, I still know how to handle headaches.
But…
'Wow…'
I have nothing.
I can't even check blood pressure.
It's even more of a mess than I thought.
"Is it difficult?"
I was so stunned and frustrated that I stayed silent, and the patient asked almost accusingly.
I don't know how much blood was let, but he looks so pale and exhausted.
I want to help him.
I want to help, but…
I don't know how.
"For now, it's difficult to do anything immediately."
When Lord Jamie talked about the headache, I was overflowing with confidence, but now that he's right in front of me, I realize there aren't many headaches that are treatable.
If it's just a simple headache, the best thing is to prescribe medication, but the only medication is willow bark tea, which is just aspirin.
Ah, I did hand that over to the chemists, but who knows when they'll produce results.
Those damn bastards…
'In the end, surgery might be necessary… but unless it's an epidural tumor, subdural hemorrhage, or sinusitis… huh? Subdural hemorrhage…?'
I'm getting a hunch.
It feels like a damn dangerous hunch.
If I'm wrong, I'd have to open his head and say, "Oops, my mistake?"
Cold sweat is pouring down, but surgery in this era is like that anyway.
"By any chance, did you hit your head somewhere about a month or two ago?"
"Uh…?"
Anyway, it was the attendant next to him who reacted to my words.
I looked at him, and he quickly shut his mouth, realizing his mistake.
Then, the MP tapped his shoulder, and only then did he continue.
"At that time… Sir, on your way back from the meeting, you hit your head while getting out of the carriage. Uh… now that I think about it, you started complaining about headaches after that."
Is he an idiot?
Shouldn't you have mentioned that first?
Am I expecting too much?
If you hit your head and then get headaches, the cause and effect are too clear.
"Now that you mention it, that's true."
Seeing not only the attendant but also the MP acting like this, I couldn't really say anything.
Instead, this thought came to mind:
'I want to open his head and take a look.'
How on earth do I phrase this so it doesn't sound aggressive?