Dark-Haired British Doctor Chapter 12

Episode 12 Sir, Listen to Me [1]

It's a condom.

condom…….

Good.

It was good, but there was one problem.

'Do people use condoms these days?'

Do you feel the need?

Thinking back to Upton's Lister family, it didn't seem necessary.

Even though they were Quakers who sold alcohol, wasn't their private life incredibly strict?

Of course, condoms are also used by married couples… … .

Written before marriage… … ?

'Oh… … .'

I feel like I'm going to be burned at the stake.

'No, but this is a great item.'

It was too valuable an item to be burned at the stake.

Yeah, I guess we'll have to piece this together and talk about it.

I put the rubber sheets neatly next to me and went to sleep.

The one who woke me up in the morning was Alfred, my clumsy senior.

“Hey, wake up.”

I woke up rubbing my sleepy eyes and saw my senior's pale face.

In fact, the fact that my voice was trembling so violently made me think that something serious had happened.

So instead of looking at the face, I first looked at the senior's fingers.

“Ah… … It’s swollen.”

“This… … This is exactly what you said! I’m going to die now… … .”

“Just wait a minute. Let me take a look.”

“Ugh.”

“No, wait a minute. You don’t have to see it.”

“Ugh.”

“Joseph.”

"huh."

Leaving the rambling senior to Joseph, a large man of over 175 cm, I examined my fingers closely.

It's swollen.

Certainly… … this was an inflammatory response.

“Eww!”

When I pressed it, it hurt so much that I felt dizzy.

There is pressure, that was the story.

That also meant that the inside was full of inflammation.

'This isn't good… … this.'

Of course it wasn't good.

In the 21st century, no, even in the 20th century, most wounds could be cured by simply going to the pharmacy and buying an ointment with antibiotics and applying it.

'No. This is from a corpse… … Hmm. Maybe I should get a shot of antibiotics?'

Even if I make a hundred concessions, this problem can be solved immediately by taking antibiotics.

There were no antibiotics to eat or die from here.

'Should I try growing mold from now on?'

The thought of penicillin flashed through my mind.

It was a meaningless thought at the moment.

Because most fungi eat people instead of having any beneficial effects.

“Give me the knife.”

“Huh… … ? Amputation after all? No… … I said no. Without the index finger, surgery… … .”

“Don’t be a jerk because I’m not cutting it. Where’s the knife?”

“What the hell? You said it was shit?”

“If you resist any longer, I’ll curse you even more, so tell me where the knife is. Be nice when I’m being polite to you.”

"uh……."

I stopped thinking useless thoughts and looked for a knife.

I don't know if it's obvious, but my senior didn't even know where the knife was at home.

No, I didn't even know exactly where the kitchen was.

I've never cooked before or anything like that.

I guess that's what it might have been.

A boy living in a mansion this big and frying his own eggs seems like something that would only exist in a utopian world, doesn't it?

"good."

They said it was good, but it wasn't good.

Even the kitchen I finally found wasn't that clean.

The first thing that caught my eye was a large cauldron, with something strange bubbling inside.

“Oh, this is stew.”

“Stew?”

stew.

It was a familiar name, but at the same time, it was an unfamiliar food.

Is it a food that you've heard of but don't know exactly what it is?

But I can confidently say that the stew I've had in the 21st century doesn't taste like that.

If you sell something like that for money in Korea, you'll be killed by the customer, not the police.

“Okay. Hmm. Let’s get off for a bit.”

I ducked inward slightly to get my senior and Joseph away from the river of food that was on the way to hell.

Then he told me to boil the water.

Since it looked like the dishcloth and everything else was rotten, I told him to boil a piece of cloth that seemed to have been recently prepared.

Since there was nothing to wipe it off with, let alone gauze, it could be seen as a last resort.

“I have a knife.”

“Ah… … . This… … needs to be cleaned.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Well, it tastes good when mixed with food… .”

“I’m not going to cook for you, senior.”

“Then do I really have to clean it?”

“I… I will clean it.”

The knife carried by someone who was not known to be a servant or an employee was not clean.

No, it was dirty.

‘You little shi*s… … If we keep doing this we’ll all die… … .’

Is there no concept of food poisoning?

Oh, I guess not.

I heard there was a cholera outbreak in London a while ago.

I heard that a lot of people died.

You have to fill the water as soon as you start playing, but I don't know that now.

Those fu*king bastards.

North, north.

With that thought in mind, I put the knife in boiling water and scrubbed it thoroughly.

As I looked at the sword with the steam rising from it, my heart somehow felt warm.

It felt like all the pent-up resentment was being released.

Since when did this grudge start building up?

My heart has been pounding since I saw Dr. Liston's strange knife.

"good."

This time it was really good.

A clean knife, and a senior looking at me with a frightened face while being held by Joseph.

No.

A scared senior is no good.

It would be nice if there was an anesthetic.

“Then… … I’ll wipe my hands with the alcohol I made yesterday.”

"eww……."

“Does it hurt?”

“It hurts!”

“Yes. I guess I have to endure it.”

"hey."

Even if I said no, it was no use.

I don't like it when you're sick.

If you don't get hurt, you can eat without any burden.

"hmm."

Anyway, I cleaned my senior's fingers with alcohol and examined the wound inside.

It would have been nice to have something like tweezers, but since I didn't have any, I just lifted the flesh with the end of a sterilized fork.

It sounds like a psychopath, but it wasn't as strange a sight as I thought.

At least it was like that for me.

It looked pretty good.

'Oh my… … Muscle color… … .'

Originally, the muscles were supposed to be bright red in color.

However, the color of the senior's finger muscles in front of me was light pink.

It wasn't a pretty pink, but a pale pink that you often see before the flowers bloom.

A pink that makes you feel like you're about to die.

"huh?"

“Does it smell? It’s a little rotten inside.”

“No… … Lord… … .”

“It’s not impossible, but please pray. Just in case.”

"you……."

It was clear that it was filled with pus.

The only good thing was that the quantity wasn't that large.

‘Come to think of it… … I should have disinfected the inside instead of just the outside yesterday… … I should have cleaned the inside too.’

I've never seen a wound like this while I was in the hospital.

A wound that was sustained while touching a corpse.

Shouldn't you be sending him to the police station first instead of the hospital?

If it's a rotten corpse, the police station will probably be in trouble too.

“It hurts.”

“I know!”

“No, it’ll hurt more.”

“What? Ugh, ugh!”

Anyway, I just cut around the swollen area with a knife.

Then, yellow pus mixed with blood flowed out into the surrounding area.

The smell wasn't very good.

It seemed that anaerobic bacteria had begun to grow in the meantime.

The inference about what kind of uniform it was was meaningless.

All sorts of things must be growing there.

“Ugh… … Ugh!”

“What are you doing! Hold them all down so they can’t move!”

The servants hesitated in surprise at how the kitchen had suddenly become a murderous space, then hurriedly approached me and pressed down on their master at my reprimand.

“You, you!”

“Did you see the surgery? That’s how it is. Don’t panic and just press.”

Alfred shot betraying glances at some of his servants, but it was no use.

Because of the young master who wanted to be a surgeon, I've already seen several murder scenes, no, surgical scenes, in the plaza.

Compared to what I saw then, this was nothing special.

It's just a finger.

Of course, the pain felt didn't seem to be much different.

Ji-i-ik-

There is a limit to the pain our brain can tolerate.

Of course, regardless of my worries, my hands were not stopping.

Even though I'm holding a fork and a kitchen knife instead of tweezers and a scalpel, I'm already used to it, as my surgeon skills are not going anywhere.

“Eww!”

“It hurts, it hurts.”

“이 개새끼가!”

“I know it hurts.”

With my senior's screams as background music, I opened the wound further and drained all the pus inside.

Then he cleaned the open wound with alcohol.

There was not a single treatment that was pain-free.

Wouldn't this be more effective than any torture that has ever existed in history?

“Ugh… … .”

Anyway, I finished the treatment in about 10 minutes.

The wound that had been oozing yellow pus until just now was now dripping red blood.

"ah……."

I know it must be a horrible sight.

It was a delightful sight for a surgeon to see a rotten wound.

Whatever it was, everything that's dead has now been removed.

The things that come out on the tip of the knife are all rotten flesh.

There were probably quite a few fungi there.

“Senior, look at this.”

“… … What are you looking at? It hurts so much.”

“This is my senior’s life.”

“I know, me too!”

“It’s rotten flesh.”

"huh?"

My senior got angry at my words, but when I told him it was rotten flesh, he came to his senses and looked at the tip of the knife.

“You may have seen it when I did the amputation surgery… … Muscles are originally bright red. Large muscles are a bit darker, but this is a small muscle.”

“Um. But this is… … .”

“When muscles die, they become this color. And you can smell it too.”

“I smell like rotten shit.”

“It’s because it’s mixed with pus.”

“Why is there pus?”

Perhaps because he was a man who dreamed of becoming a doctor, he was very studious and even forgot about pain.

I also felt like it had been a long time since I met a student, so I spoke without thinking.

“Pus is a collection of dead bodies where white blood cells died fighting bacteria.”

"huh?"

"ah."

At the same time, I was able to meet many questioning eyes.

'Is this how they burn you?'

Have you ever been so embarrassed by being born again?

It seemed like it never existed.

That's why my head was spinning.

“It’s a word used in Joseon… … Haha. I made a mistake.”

“Korean sounds so much like English?”

“Oh, well. That’s what people say.”

I continued, roughly following Joseph's words.

“If this bad energy… … comes in, shouldn’t we protect ourselves as well?”

“Is that so?”

“That’s right. First of all, the skin blocks that energy. That’s why if you don’t get hurt, you don’t die.”

"ah."

“Then, there’s something inside the skin that blocks this. If you lose a fight or something, this yellow pus is produced.”

"iced coffee."

It wasn't easy.

There's no way that eye-level education would be easy.

fu*k.

“Well, we’re not exactly sure either. It’s just that in Joseon, we think like this, something like that.”

“Korean people are really deep thinkers.”

“Yes.”

It couldn't be a lie.

Because there will be a lot of experts in Neo-Confucianism.

Wouldn't that be deep thinking?

I guess so.

“Anyway, let’s leave it open for now.”

“Leave it open? Without bandaging it?”

"bandage……."

The senior pushed in the bandage he had brought at some point.

It looked like it had been made a while ago.

It smelled like urine.

The bandage smells musty.

“No. It’s not a big wound… … Let’s leave it open for now.”

As I said that, I looked outside the kitchen window.

‘Could it be that this isn’t Earth… … .’