Dark-Haired British Doctor Chapter 389

Episode 389: Anti-aging [3]

Our gourmet, the body part thief, Jean Pierre Baguette, sat in front of the mirror with a puzzled look on his face.

Surrounding him were proud British people, including me, with expressions of interest.

There was one person who was not in the group, the painter William Turner, who had become quite famous in London.

Almost all of his paintings feature a faintly rising sun, and he was also good at still lifes and portraits.

I asked him to draw anatomy and surgical pictures, but he was so expensive that I couldn't call him often.

Of course, that was a long time ago, and now William IV is our guardian, so he receives donations of talent.

'For a person with talent, there is nothing more annoying than donating talent, but for a person with power instead of talent, there is nothing more pleasant than donating talent.'

I remembered one day when I told this word to the king.

-Donating talent. That's a good word. Well, it's a talent that I received from God… … It's not right to accept money unconditionally.

I thought you might be taking it as an overly communist idea… … .

As always, it was okay as long as it wasn't me.

“So… you want me to dress this person up shabbily?”

Still, I thought this was a bit too much.

He's a fairly well-known person.

But he was enthusiastic.

I think it's because the opponent is French.

If you ask me why I hate French people so much, I'd say I dislike them so much that I wouldn't be able to give a detailed answer, but I guess that's understandable, since I've been hating them for so long.

“Yeah. I guess it won’t be difficult. It’s not like it looks that way in the first place.”

“That’s true, but. Hmm…….”

“I’m good at English.”

Gossiping is something you shouldn't do, but talking in front of others is even more so.

Jean Pierre frowned, seeming very offended.

But he spoke indirectly, like a hypocritical Frenchman.

It probably means to stop swearing in English because they understand it all.

'That wicked bastard.'

Liston must have had similar thoughts as I did, because he thumped Jean-Pierre on the shoulder.

Amid the murmurs of approval, Liston continued.

“That’s why I got picked.”

“Just stay still for a moment. Shouldn’t we get the overall composition?”

Jean Pierre still had a look of discontent on his face, but his shoulder was too sore to speak.

Meanwhile, William Turner turned Jean-Pierre's face from side to side to observe him.

Then he picked up the scissors that we had left on the dresser.

“I think I need to cut my beard a bit…….”

“A beard? No!”

“How should I cut it?”

There was some confusion, like a broken radio, but since no one was listening to Jean-Pierre anyway, things progressed without any problems.

“I’ll do this. It’s an art in its own way.”

“No, my beard! How can I…….”

“Well, making yourself look ugly is a kind of art.”

William Turner cut off Jean-Pierre's usual finger-curling beard, the cliché that comes to mind when you think of a Frenchman.

It wasn't cut off all at once, but some strange trick was used, and strangely enough, the real person started to look very poor.

Even though he was still wearing a fancy suit, it was still the same.

"and……."

Still, our painter seemed dissatisfied and turned his gaze toward the head.

Then, Liston flinched in surprise and stepped back without realizing it.

Instead, it was Blundell who stepped forward.

“Are you going to cut your hair?”

Since he had always been proud of his abundant hair, it seemed that he didn't have much sympathy for people with hair loss.

Well, it was like that when I think back on my past life.

-What are you going to do if you go bald?

-I tried to think that it would come at that time.

I asked a friend who kept making fun of me for being bald, and the answer I got was quite surprising.

“Nothing looks more ugly than unkempt hair.”

“Yeah, that’s true too.”

“These crazy guys.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

Even Liston was trying to stop him, but since his opponent was French, he wasn't very active.

So Jean-Pierre had his hair cut off and sat there with a dazed look on his face until the charcoal-like makeup was complete.

He was a great beggar, because he dressed the poor in rags that he had bought with his money.

“Do you have talent?”

“It’s scary.”

Even Liston, who had been bowing his head as if he couldn't see when his hair was cut, was amazed.

But the makeup was just the beginning.

I had to go in and do well.

“You must remember who is there. You must tell the artist everything about their hair, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, face shape, body shape, clothes, etc.”

From what I heard, it seemed like these kids knew very well that they had something to hide, so they didn't call each other by our real names inside.

Besides, even if Jean-Pierre had been in the palace, wasn't he hiding in women's clothing?

There is no way to recognize the faces of socialites, that's what I mean.

So I decided to use the montage writing technique I picked up from the drama.

Jean Pierre is an amateur, and William Turner is also an amateur in this area, so I don't think anything will come of it right away…

“Yes, if you just give me a general idea… I know the faces of many famous people, so I’ll recognize them.”

William Turner was a famous painter who often painted portraits, so this one was more likely to be recognized.

“Uh… but if I go, won’t my blood be drawn…?”

“I will. But it’s okay to donate blood once or twice.”

“No…… but still, raw blood…….”

“Then why did you come and eat for free?”

“Normally you don’t get blood when you eat. Are you Shylock?”

“Are you calling me a Jew? How dare you? Do you want to be cursed?”

“No, that’s not it…….”

Of course, that was only important to us, and Jean-Pierre seemed to be just worried about getting his blood drawn.

What a foolish person he was.

It's for public health… How can a doctor be so lacking in self-sacrifice?

Besides, aren't you saying that it's the French bastards who are doing this?

As a fellow Baguette, I have no intention of taking responsibility… … .

'Well, then it's like he's a baguette… … .'

I shook my head and wrote down the talisman I had written in advance.

Even if I were to call it a talisman, since the Chinese characters I can use are extremely limited, the meanings are usually either good or strange idioms.

Good luck in the beginning of spring, good fortune in life, killing two birds with one stone, etc.

Among them, I didn't know how to write Gil, Yangmyeong, and Jo, so I wrote them in Korean, but it seemed like this looked more mysterious to the sheep.

As soon as he saw the amulet, Jean Pierre turned into a docile lamb and headed outside.

Of course, we followed along.

'If a man of Jean Pierre's stature were to be left alone in a back alley in London… … .'

Because it was obvious that the character would be deleted right away.

Everyone has something special about them, but back alley thugs are specialists when it comes to identifying the weak.

Do you notice a guy like Jean Pierre?

First of all, it's hairy.

But in this day and age, things don't end well, so if you're lucky, you get hit and it ends, and if you're unlucky, you get stabbed or exploded somewhere.

'If I get hit or get stabbed, they won't draw blood.'

You might wonder why those who illegally draw blood would be so picky, but illegal activities are actually more picky.

It costs more money and suspicious people cannot even set foot in the area, so they cannot be caught.

“Hey…… uh.”

Anyway, this is already the second one.

“Eek. Please save me…….”

“You’re lucky. Just go. Tell him that if he touches you, he’s dead.”

“Yes, yes!”

Liston picked up a thug who was approaching Jean Pierre with one hand and then put him down.

I guess the life you've lived has been pretty rough, but what can you do?

There are things in this world that cannot be done with human power.

“Is that guy too?”

“No… that guy’s boots are made of leather.”

“Then? That…?”

"maybe?"

“Or what?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to use someone else.”

“Well, I see.”

Then, another guy came into view approaching Jean Pierre.

His gaze and overall impression were no different from that of a typical gangster, but the difference was that he looked wealthy.

Above all, there were so many people gathered around that I felt like I was being too cautious to pass by.

This means that it is not blending in with the back alleys.

"hey."

"yes yes?"

“Don’t you need money? It looks like you need it.”

As expected, the guys started talking to Jean-Pierre about money.

Despite our earnest request, Jean-Pierre glanced in our direction before nodding.

Fortunately, the most conspicuous Liston hid faster than the eye could see, so no one was detected.

“Then let’s go. You know the basics, right? Just sell blood. There’s no easier way to make money than this.”

"yes yes."

So Jean Pierre started to move, surrounded by large men.

When we arrived at the dock, we saw that there were ten people like Jean Pierre gathered there.

The men who were acting as guides checked the people's faces one more time with the torch and then started walking somewhere.

The funny thing is that I only got the briefest glimpse of Jean-Pierre's face.

Is this the power of makeup?

Or maybe it's because of the face that doesn't seem to exist to begin with.

Liston and I made a bet to see which ship would go in.

“I guess covering up won’t work.”

“Yes. I thought we were going to set sail.”

As soon as all the party had boarded the ship, it moved away from the port and anchored again.

Well, if you want to go in, you can, but… … .

It's a bit odd to barge into a ship at this hour of the night without an expert.

Besides, if Liston goes, he'll probably just cut open the ship or something…

But if the ship owner says he didn't know, I might have to ask him.

“Pierre will find out anyway. We English people are people who can have a conversation if we speak calmly, so… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes.”

Haven't we seen countless times that when Liston comes out, not only the British but also the French can converse?

-You know what? Even the most reserved person becomes a chatterbox after getting hit once.

Of all the quotes from Liston, this one is the one that resonates with me the most.

A knife?

There's no need for that either.

If you just hit them on the head, they'll suddenly start talking about things they didn't even ask about.

“How was it?”

How many hours have passed?

Jean Pierre came back with a particularly tired look on his face.

He was pointing at the arm, but since he was a street vendor, he must have been quite skilled, because there were no signs of him stabbing him twice.

Moreover, judging by the traces of disinfection, it seemed that this organization was indeed quite large.

“You only think like that? Are you evil?”

When I told him my thoughts, Jean-Pierre criticized me.

As he was staring at it, not understanding, Liston tapped him on the shoulder.

“He’s not a demon, he’s a sorcerer.”

"no……."

“By the way, have you seen the face?”

“I only saw the person who received my blood, but I definitely saw it.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

"okay……."