Dark-Haired British Doctor Chapter 36

Episode 36 I was in the newspaper [1]

‘Ah… … I’m going to die… … .’

Robert Liston… … .

I thought he was just a big guy, but he was also a good drinker.

I didn't know, but Joseph did the same.

Alfred?

To be honest, I don't remember much about it.

One thing was clear, Colin was drinking and suddenly the spot where he had pulled out his teeth started bleeding, so he had to leave.

'Are you a benefactor?'

If it weren't for that kid, I would have really died.

What the hell are you drinking so much of?

And not even a Viking.

No, is that a Viking… … .

Anyway, if anyone talks about England being a country of gentlemen in front of me, they will die.

“Ugh.”

“Hey, you’re going to die.”

Of course, I'm really going to die before that.

and…….

No, it's morning and I'm vomiting.

“Ugh… …water. Water.”

“Shouldn’t you have some hangover cure?”

Meanwhile, our proud senior was talking about hangover cures.

Of course, it wasn't entirely unreasonable.

If you get drunk again, you can forget about the headache caused by a hangover.

Of course, it is a shortcut to alcohol addiction, but it is also evidence of addiction.

So… … I’m saying that it’s not something a doctor should be able to say confidently like this.

“Should we go to that bar yesterday? I think I need to get a haircut.”

“What… What are you talking about?”

Then the conversation started to go in a strange direction.

Why is dog hair coming out while we're talking about drinking?

Judging by the look on his face, Joseph seemed completely unaware of it.

Even though I'm a Quaker who sells alcohol, a Nylon believer, I've never had a hangover or seen anyone do it because I don't drink so much that I can't even last two weeks.

“Don’t you even know dog hair?”

“I know the dog and I know the fur… … but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you know that when you get bitten by a dog and it hurts, if you pluck out the hair from the dog that bit you and put it on the wound, the wound will get better?”

“What the hell… … .”

“Anyway, he said that drinking at the bar he was at helps relieve headaches. I thought the same thing.”

“That… … Ugh.”

and.

I learned one thing.

It wasn't through talking nonsense like dog hair or hairballs, but it was said that when someone said something angry after drinking, the headache got worse.

“Ah… … I can’t go… … .”

I was in so much pain earlier that I couldn't go, but now I was in even more pain.

So I felt like giving up.

To be honest, there's nothing to learn by going, so why go?

As this thought occurred to me, both Joseph and Alfred looked at me with angry faces.

“What are you thinking?”

“You really have great courage.”

These kids have been doing weird things for a while now, so it might be strange to be surprised again now… … But this kind of reaction was a first.

"why?"

So when I asked, they looked at each other and then back at me.

Then he nodded as if he understood something.

“You don’t remember?”

“Yes, it can’t be otherwise.”

“What… what?”

“You were supposed to do a dissection with Dr. Liston today. If you miss that… … you’re going to die.”

“Oh. You said you’d definitely meet me today, hyung. I thought you were being really witty, but I guess you were just absent-minded.”

“Ah… … I… … I made that promise.”

Why would you do that?

I thought I'd take a break today.

Oh, my head really hurts today!

I think dehydration is in progress!

Right away.

Of course, now all this was just a meaningless wish.

It really looks like it's going to fall apart, but I don't think you can just get out of it just because you feel like you're going to die.

So I got into the carriage.

Anyone who's ever been in a car with a bad hangover knows that it's even more painful.

"ah."

A scream-like groan escaped.

It just came out naturally.

“They’re here. Oh my, Noble Kim. Almost dying… … Is this really how you become a doctor?”

When I arrived, the coachman saw my face and patted my shoulder with a worried look on his face.

I was grateful, but my mind was spinning so much that I felt like throwing up.

“Ugh.”

"ah."

No, I threw up.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not. It’s on my shoe, you know.”

And then I realized that quite a few people had already left marks on my shoes before, and I wanted to vomit again.

Anyway, this 19th century concept of hygiene, no, the concept of hygiene in the big city of London, was something that was difficult to get used to no matter how much time passed.

“Oh, over there.”

I kept my head still and went inside, and there was Dr. Robert Liston.

I was surrounded by quite a few people, unusually, and no matter how I looked at them, they seemed to be reporters.

A journalist in the 19th century?

I was a bit taken aback when I first saw it, but anyway, London was fast.

The problem is that it's literally fu*king fast… … .

“Doctor. Did the anesthesia really work yesterday?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I succeeded?”

“That’s… that laughing gas we use at parties?”

“That’s right. Didn’t you all vaguely know that? You’ve all experienced the feeling of being in a state of numbness when you go to a laughing gas party. You just didn’t think of using it as an anesthetic. Oh, right. You’re coming right now.”

The doctor looked at me and pointed with his finger.

"yes?"

“That guy is Dr. Piyoung. He’s the one who came up with this idea. He’s a very promising young man.”

"oh."

Then the reporters came rushing in.

I already thought he looked strange because of his yellow face, but it was only natural that the doctor said something like that.

“How did you come up with this idea?”

“Where are you from?”

“Is the doctor right?”

“Are you British?”

From my perspective, it wasn't something I particularly wanted to welcome, as I was already having a headache.

However, as someone who has witnessed the horrors of the media in the 21st century with great enthusiasm, I could not simply ignore their questions.

'If you're on my side, it'll be great… … but that's not likely to happen.'

People who think they can control the media inevitably have bad words.

Journalists are usually rebels.

Would it be different now?

Just looking at their eyes, these kids didn't seem like particularly good people.

In other words, my goal was not to make any enemies.

Among those targeted was our older brother, Dr. Robert Liston.

“Thanks to the teachings of Dr. Robert Liston. In particular, what happened at the party the professor took me to was decisive.”

“What's going on?”

“I swallowed gas and hit something, but it didn’t hurt. It should have hurt… … but it did.”

“Huh. So that’s where you got the hint?”

Colin wasn't there.

So, I left out the story of Colin, who had contributed in some way.

“I’m from Joseon. It’s the country to the east from here.”

“East? Near India?”

“Oh, no. It’s further east than Cheong.”

“Ah… … You’re from the Far East.”

“That… yes.”

The Far East.

Kids.

Are you the center of the world?

I wanted to say something like that, but I'm good at compromising and also quite timid, so I just nodded.

“I’m not a doctor yet… …but I’m studying hard under the guidance of Dr. Robert Liston.”

“Aha… … I see?”

“Ah, wait a minute.”

As I was continuing to answer, Robert Liston interrupted.

Actually, I thought, "Oh no."

There were quite a few people with hyena-like expressions.

But if they were hyenas, Robert Liston was a lion.

He was the first to take the lead and firmly grasp the fountain pen that made him say, "Aha!"

Stop.

Then it broke.

It really broke like something out of a cartoon.

"uh……?"

“Excuse me. This is a mistake.”

It couldn't be a mistake, but if the lion says it's a mistake, then it must be a mistake.

The quick-witted guys quickly erased the sentence that said, 'I am not a doctor.'

A fountain pen probably costs a lot of money, so wouldn't it be a shame if it broke?

Robert Liston continued his speech, commanding the audience.

“It will happen soon. I am qualified.”

“No… … As far as we know, Tapey Young? This person hasn’t even been here for a few months?”

A guy who was standing a little further away asked this.

Robert clenched and unclenched his fist.

He probably tried to solve it with physics, like a scientist.

But aren't all the guys in front of you liberal arts majors?

It was good to change my mind.

There is a reason why they say the pen is mightier than the sword.

If these guys went back and started talking big, I might be hanging in the square, even if Dr. Robert Liston didn't know about it.

“Doing it for a long time and doing it well are two different things. Don’t you think so just by looking at me? Is there anyone among experienced surgeons who is better than me?”

“Well. That’s… … But aren’t you, Doctor, the greatest genius in London? The comparison… … .”

“Piyoung is someone who can compare to me. If you really don’t believe me… … .”

I don't know if they had the same thoughts or not, but Robert continued speaking calmly.

Of course, I couldn't be patient for that long.

It was because I never used to be patient.

“Take a look over there.”

"excuse me……?"

So Robert pointed to the dissection lab.

At first glance, the entrance that was emitting a force that would make ordinary people cringe came into view.

A tightly closed door at the end of a dark hallway.

A cloth mask and pieces of cotton placed next to it.

Blood dripping on the floor.

If it were anywhere other than a medical school, it would be a sight that would be believable even if you said it was the entrance to hell or a dungeon.

-Abandon hope, ye who enter here.

Even I, who had been there several times, thought of hell every time I saw the entrance, so I said it all.

“You want me to come over there?”

"okay."

“What… What are you trying to do?”

“Watch me dissect it.”

"ah."

It was obvious that the reporters would have thought of death as well.

But despite his intimidating appearance, Robert was actually a doctor.

That's pretty good too.

Aren't you sincere about saving people?

He headed towards the entrance, dumbfounded.

Squeak.

Then he opened the door.

“Ugh.”

All the reporters who had the courage to follow him had to turn their heads.

The majesty of the dissection lab had not yet been fully appreciated, but the smell alone was enough to make everyone tremble in fear.

In contrast, I was surprisingly okay.

'Is it because my mucous membranes are swollen? Or is it because I'm still drunk… … I can't tell what it smells like?'

Several reasons came to mind, but anyway, I was able to endure it by blocking it with cotton.

The only problem was that my hands were shaking a little when I blocked it, but that was okay too.

The gloves are so thick that you won't even notice that you're floating while wearing them.

“Shall we do this?”

Meanwhile, Dr. Robert sat in front of a corpse.

It was a corpse that I had touched, and as expected, it had decomposed over time.

Although I felt uncomfortable, I also had to appeal to the reporters, so I sat there pretending nothing happened.

“Is that so?”

“Okay. Everyone, come and see.”

“No, we.”

“There’s no need to do that… … .”

“Come and see.”

“Uh… … yes.”

“And then write an article about it. Write an article about it after seeing how well it does. Before you even think about causing trouble.”