Dark-Haired British Doctor Chapter 173

Episode 173 Paris [3]

Right away.

The friendly coachman has become somewhat quieter.

I looked at him to see if he was tired, and he had a slightly fed up look on his face.

Why is that?

You saw what I was trying to show you, and you saw it even further inside.

Besides, haven't we already proven our abilities to the police here?

‘What… … We’ve already been moving for a few days… … .’

I thought it was time to get tired.

I'm starting to feel a little tired too.

Even sitting still and moving around is not an easy task.

I wonder if it's not for nothing that in the old days, vagabonds were treated as people who suffered?

“Wow, wow.”

Anyway, we passed the Ile de la Cité where the corpse exhibition hall was located and crossed the Seine River completely.

After that, we had to run for a long time on a narrow road, and this road was really a mess.

I wasn't talking about a shit field.

No, it's a shit field, but I've gotten used to it for so long that there's no reason to be surprised by it now.

'No… … I'm going to kill someone… … .'

The road is so narrow and winding that I'm not sure if I'll hit anyone, but I've already hit a few.

He didn't say anything even though he showed signs of pain, as if it was part of his daily life.

Maybe it's because he's a vagrant. I think he's afraid that if he causes trouble for no reason, he'll get in more pain.

If you look at the sky and the river here, the industrial revolution must already be in full swing… … .

It seemed like there was a similar, or perhaps even greater, gap between the rich and the poor than in London.

“They all came.”

After quite a bit of running, we finally arrived at the hospital where we would be teaching.

Like many buildings in Europe, it was a building that looked quite old-fashioned.

The stone building is definitely nice.

So are you looking forward to it?

That wasn't the case.

“The Royal Academy of Surgery of France… … What a grand name.”

Liston said that although he could not speak French well, he could read it with a halt.

In addition, since he was a smart gentleman by nature, he spent several days here and read the letters on the signboard more and more easily.

Certainly, since it was called the Royal Academy, it seemed even more impressive than before.

“Welcome, Dr. Liston. It’s been a while.”

Anyway, when we got to the front and were hanging around for a while, someone came out.

He was accompanied by several people and had a similar composition to us.

One professor and several assistants.

Of course, I am a professor who looks like an assistant… … .

“Oh, it’s been a while.”

Luckily, this person seemed to speak some English.

“Then… … I will wait here. Once you finish your schedule, I will take you to the hotel.”

“Oh, okay. Please.”

Liston tipped the coachman a bit and followed the man he had just greeted inside.

I heard as I was going in that his name was Pierre.

Jean Pierre.

It was such a French name that I thought it was more like a pseudonym.

Anyway, as soon as I entered, I came out of the lobby.

Certainly, even if France is not as powerful as the British Empire, it does have more than one or two colonies.

The wealth of the mainland is incomparable.

Since they were all European octorans, they were quite flashy.

The most eye-catching of them all was, surprisingly, one portrait.

“Oh, this is Doctor Pyeong.”

“Yes. I told you in the letter. He is a great friend. He is a nobleman from a country called Joseon.”

“Haha. Somehow, I feel like you have a different aura from other Asians.”

The two of them chattered about this and that, then pointed to the portrait I had been looking at.

“This man is the main character who made our French surgery possible.”

Pierre continued his explanation with a proud look on his face.

This piqued my interest as well.

How great of a person must he be to do that?

“Your name is Felix. He was originally a barber. Then he was assigned to treat Louis XIV’s hemorrhoids.”

"ah."

hemorrhoids.

Yeah, I saw this while looking through my former professor's materials.

It can be said that he is the person who has achieved the pinnacle of hemorrhoid surgery.

Until then, I had hemorrhoids… … .

If you look closely, it's a lump of blood vessels, and they just burned it.

Then, if the anus is burned as well, you could die, but this person developed a technique to tie it up, stop the bleeding to some extent, and then cut it off.

“Since he couldn’t perform the surgery on Louis XIV, he practiced it on others. In the process, 75 people died. As a result, modern hemorrhoid surgery was perfected.”

"ah."

I wondered how on earth they could perform such a relatively experimental surgery on the king, but it turns out that wasn't the case.

Even though I treated the king, 75 people died in the process, and yet I can keep his portrait in such an honorable place…

Even if I were French, I think I would have thought about revolution at least once.

“Anyway, this way.”

Pierre explained as he did so, then quickly moved his steps to the right.

You can tell at a glance that the hallway is dark… … .

Something was a bit off.

Of course, we were all familiar with it.

Haven't I seen those flickering gas lights somewhere before?

“But since I came to the surgical academy, I should start with dissection.”

“Right. Haha, I guess I’m the best at dissection, right?”

“The arms and legs are like that. But you know what? Since anesthesia is possible… … I should start touching other areas too.”

“Haha. This guy… … .”

Yeah, we were heading to the dissection lab.

The two professors were secretly burning with a sense of competition, but as expected, it seemed that even in France, there was no competition when it came to amputating limbs.

When the French admit that they can't win with arms and legs, I guess that says it all.

In fact, Liston had since learned from me, so now there was no one who could beat him in dissection.

What piqued my curiosity more than the obvious match was the hygiene of the French dissection labs.

Click.

Just then a rat passed by.

It's a real rat.

I thought I saw something wrong… … It's a rat.

"ah……."

“Why are you so surprised? It’s something to be expected.”

And our Professor Pierre said to me, as if to ask why I was doing something like that.

'It's a bit strange that only this place is clean… … .'

I went inside, completely abandoning all my misguided expectations.

Well, it was a common sight.

A flying fly.

A rotting corpse.

Even the autopsy performed on the corpse was so disorganized that it looked like they were obsessed with figuring out how to make it look horrific.

“Plain.”

I was about to go out when Liston called me.

"yes?"

“I heard a new body is coming in, so I’ll show you what I’m capable of then.”

“Ah… is that so?”

“Yeah. They say that at least four of them will be available by tomorrow. What we have here now is a bit… … uh?”

“Oh, yes.”

Not now.

I can go out right away.

With that in mind, I said yes and left, but as I was leaving, I thought about it and realized that what I said was a bit strange.

The body… … .

How do you know that the supply will be made tomorrow?

What the heck, I wonder if there's an execution ceremony somewhere?

“Isn’t this France? It’s too much to expect them to follow the law.”

Liston read my face and whispered in my ear.

In my view, England was also a dog-eat-dog country, but when I saw that even Pierre, who understood English, couldn't say anything about it, it seemed like there was a heaven above the heaven.

Anyway, we left the dissection lab and went to the lecture room, where we also heard that surgeries were performed.

It was said that some surgeries are even performed in theaters.

If it were a weaker version of me, I would have fainted, but to me now, this was just something I was used to.

So I was able to walk around with a rather indifferent face.

“Ah, time goes by so quickly… … .”

As he was watching the class being taught, Pierre tapped his head.

Then he looked back at Liston with a rather bright face.

“Are you knowledgeable about literature or music?”

No, correction.

It was a slightly mocking face.

They seemed happy to see each other earlier, but now that I look at them, it seems like they're just feeding each other.

If Liston gets the idea to punch him, it'll be a big problem…

“Well, it’s okay.”

Liston nodded with a face that clearly showed little interest in literature or music, let alone any knowledge of it.

I think he just nodded because he really didn't want to lose…

Pierre opened his mouth, saying that it was a good thing.

“Oh? That’s great. There’s a club where artists I’m friends with gather. Do you want to go?”

“You have to eat before you go.”

“Ah, of course. They are the ones who drink alcohol instead of eating, but… … We can’t do that, can we? Above all, I want to feed you, who came from England, as much French food as possible.”

"hmm."

When it came to food, Liston gave up fighting any longer.

That's because even though the British aren't good at cooking, they have a conscience about food.

In fact, even people with little conscience would not dare to look at British food and say that it is delicious.

Moreover, surprisingly, our Dr. Liston is a very good person, so such a reaction was not that surprising.

“I will buy it.”

“Ah, thank you always.”

Plus Pierre shot food for us.

I feel like the words, “Those poor British bastards… … are ringing in my ears.”

I'm a Korean, so I didn't feel too bad.

Besides, the food tasted really great.

Of course, this wasn't comparable to the taste of food I ate in the 21st century.

To be honest, compared to the taste of homemade Shin Ramyun with milk poured over it, all the foods from that time period were not that good.

"and……."

"oh my god……."

“How could this be… … .”

This was my impression, and other people's impressions were so blatant that it seemed a little pitiful.

Although he seemed anxious to somehow disparage the French product, with each bite, the only thing that came out of his mouth was admiration.

So did Liston.

He was also drinking French wine with some pretty fancy hand gestures.

“It’s delicious.”

“Yeah, how does it compare to British food?”

“Our food is garbage.”

“Are you drunk?”

“To be honest, I am a beggar.”

He even went so far as to call him a traitor.

Well, it was a pretty good meal.

The problem occurred next… … .

“Let’s go to the club now. It’s held in a different place every time, but this time it’s really close.”

“Okay. But what’s the name of that club?”

“It’s called the Hashishi Club.”

“Hashishira. It feels exotic.”

“Yes. Doesn’t it smell a bit like sand? It’s the language of the desert.”

The two of them must have had some drinks and were chatting excitedly.

They were just walking down the street, neither of them seemed particularly worried about being attacked by a stranger.

It was natural.

The French thugs also approached, but as soon as they saw Liston, they teleported away.

There was something else that was swirling around in my head.

'Hashish… … ? Where have I heard this before… … ?'