It seemed my prayers had reached no one.
How could I be sure?
The students in the lecture hall had already split into two groups.
And honestly, I couldn't even tell which of the two was worse.
"Haha! To see so many willing to contribute to the advancement of medicine—what a wonderful thing!"
Liston chuckled heartily as he observed the divided groups.
—Why don't you try drinking it too?
—No… I should be recording this.
—Ah, right.
—You should also refrain, sir, since you need to document everything.
—But to truly understand disease, one must experience it firsthand. Besides, this isn't yet confirmed, is it? The more test subjects, the better.
—As I mentioned earlier, wouldn't it be better to track down people who've already fallen ill from drinking the water…?
—Tsk, tsk. Do you think commoners are like us? They'd forget today's events by nightfall!
I just laughed along.
What else could I do but laugh in such a hopeless situation?
At least humor would keep me sane.
Besides, if I set aside my 21st-century standards for a moment, Liston's experiment was actually the most intuitive approach possible.
"Now, everyone, pick up the glass in front of you."
One group had glasses filled with liquid extracted from the corpses…
Well, not straight—that would've killed even the healthiest adult on the spot—so it was diluted tenfold.
"Go ahead, drink up."
The other group had glasses filled with diluted Thames water—no, liquid.
Calling that "water" was a stretch.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Honestly, the fact that anyone volunteered for this horrific experiment was shocking enough…
But the way they downed it without hesitation was even more astonishing.
Incredible.
Truly incredible.
Maybe this was how medicine advanced—through people like this.
'Well… At this level… To reach 21st-century standards, someone had to try everything, right?'
I was painfully reminded that what we consider "common sense" in the modern era only came about after countless such trials.
"Hmm… Doesn't taste like much."
"I feel fine."
Despite my protests, Joseph and Alfred had also been roped into the experiment.
The only exception was Colin.
This guy had already volunteered himself as a test subject during the anesthetic trials.
He treated his own body like some kind of teaching aid, always the first to step forward.
—Professor! I can do it!
No, just because you can doesn't mean you should…
Why would anyone—
No amount of persuasion worked.
Instead, he made a huge fuss, demanding that if the experiment succeeded, his name be recorded in the findings. It made me wonder if he had some personal stake in this.
'Does his family not acknowledge him…?'
Some people just had an unusually strong need for validation.
I'd known classmates who, despite graduating from top schools and becoming doctors, were so desperate for recognition that it twisted into deep-seated inferiority.
A few managed to channel it into success, but most just ended up miserable.
At least, that's how it seemed to me.
"They don't seem affected at all, do they?"
I didn't have much time to dwell on it.
Just moments ago, Liston had been cautiously optimistic, wondering if this would really work—but now he was fidgeting like a man desperate for the toilet.
'Logically, if symptoms appeared this quickly after ingestion, wouldn't that indicate poison rather than bacteria?'
Ah, poison…
Toxins were a possibility.
They could cause symptoms too.
'As long as it's not cyanide or something, the dilution should prevent fatalities.'
What symptoms would toxins cause?
Neurotoxins could lead to respiratory failure, but finding such potent toxins in nature was exceedingly rare.
Pufferfish, some poisonous frogs, venomous snakes—maybe?
Most toxins just induced vomiting or diarrhea.
'But even that… could be mistaken for bacterial infection, no?'
Hmm.
Maybe this was for the best?
"Let's wait a bit longer. Exposure to miasma doesn't cause immediate illness, right?"
"Well… even in the dissection room, people don't fall sick right away. And not everyone does."
"Not everyone… If we assume miasma isn't in the air but rather those strange-looking things, it makes sense. Only those who ingest them would show symptoms, no?"
"Ah. Hmm. That is a way to look at it."
Liston grunted thoughtfully, scratching his chin.
What was going through that grotesque mind of his?
I was curious, but not enough to dig deeper.
It was terrifying, honestly.
"While we wait… how about a drink? This could take a while—maybe even days. These volunteers should stay here in the meantime."
"Huh? Lock them up here?"
"Lock them up? We'll provide meals and beds."
"Ah… You're a frightening one, aren't you?"
Listening to myself, I wondered if I'd gone too far.
But no matter how I looked at it, sending them home was out of the question.
Even with the limited medical care available here, wasn't the hospital still better than their homes?
At least if they fell ill, I'd be there to diagnose them immediately.
'Depending on the timing, we can determine if it's toxins or infection.'
What if they went home, got sick, and ended up bled dry by some quack?
If an infection was already progressing, bloodletting could kill even a healthy person on the spot.
I wasn't exaggerating—this era was just like that.
Too many madmen running around…
"Alright, you heard him! By Dr. Pyeong's orders, none of you are to leave this room without permission. Understood?"
No, don't phrase it like that!
That just makes me sound like some kind of villain!
Liston was already looming over them with that eerie scalpel of his, and now this?
I turned around, worried the students might faint from terror.
"Yes, sir!"
Turns out, I'd worried for nothing.
They responded with bright, eager faces.
Blundell chuckled at his students—the same ones who'd just been in his lecture—and said:
"It's heartening to see you all striving for medical progress. Survive this, and I'll give you top marks."
I wasn't sure "Survive this" was the right thing to say…
"Let's eat first."
Anyway, Alfred, Joseph, and I—five of us in total—settled in the lecture hall across the way.
Liston, as if to prove rumors of his recent wealth weren't exaggerated, brought out French wine from his office.
French wine! In England!
You'd think the English would recoil at anything French, but when it came to food and drink, even they couldn't deny their refined tastes.
"Wow… This is exquisite!"
"Haha. Took some effort to acquire. Anyway, drink up."
And so, we began pouring and sipping.
Not to get drunk, of course.
Even in this barbaric 19th century, doctors getting wasted in a hospital was unthinkable.
Especially now, when we'd just pushed students into mortal danger.
What kind of professors would we be if we got hammered in the middle of this?
"Ugh…"
About three hours later, unpleasant sounds started coming from the other room.
Thud.
Not the most welcome noise, but an expected one.
If toxins were involved, this was about the right timing.
So I waited a beat—not too eager—before opening the door and heading over.
I made sure not to seem too prepared.
I hadn't planned this experiment, but if I'd not only suggested miasma might not be airborne but also predicted the exact timing, even I'd look like a witch.
Witch hunts might be fading, but a stunt like this could still earn me a hanging.
Or worse, burning at the stake.
"Ugh—blargh!"
When I reached the other room, ten out of the twenty volunteers were already vomiting.
Seven from the corpse group, three from the Thames group.
The Thames group also seemed to have… soiled themselves. Diarrhea, likely.
To Liston and the others, this might seem coincidental, but I knew exactly why the difference existed.
'The corpse group mainly has staphylococci… while the Thames group has E. coli.'
Different bacteria, different effects.
What else could it be?
If corpse-derived and feces-derived bacteria were the same, that would've been the real shocker.
"Alright, everyone, over here!"
"Hmm. Should we use mercury?"
I led the now-thoroughly-sick students out.
Thankfully, since the others were doctors and not mad scientists, treatment took priority over analysis.
"What about Dr. Semmel's method? We might need bloodletting."
"No, no. Let me open their bellies instead."
The unfortunate part was that these were 19th-century doctors, not 21st-century ones.
The toxins were dangerous, but their proposed treatments were far worse.
No, not just seemed worse—they were worse.
Mercury, bloodletting, belly-cutting.
Wow.
What a lineup of horrors.
"W-Wait! Isn't this miasma exposure?"
I had to intervene.
Otherwise, they'd all die!
"Ah, right. We did feed them miasma."
Liston paused mid-belly-cutting motion at my words.
In the past, he'd have probably cut first and asked questions later. At least he'd improved.
Maybe we were inching toward the 20th century, if not the 21st.
'Don't glare at me… Cutting them open will kill them, you idiot.'
The funny part? Some students actually seemed disappointed I'd stopped it.
Technically, they were my seniors—they'd entered medical school before me.
But still, they looked downright crestfallen at missing their chance to witness a live dissection.
"So, how about we try diluting it first?"
"Diluting? With water?"
"Yes."
"Will that cure them? We still need to do something."
"Well… What if we approach it as flushing out the miasma through dilution…?"
If it was an infection, the approach would differ slightly.
Not enough to bring back mercury, bloodletting, or belly-cutting—well, mostly.
Belly-cutting could be justified if there was an abscess…
'Liston might actually be the least insane here!'
Trying to hide my horror, I pressed on.
"Let's start with water. If they're still like this tomorrow, we can consider treatment then."
"Ah, fair. A day won't kill them."
"Exactly. Mercury is expensive, after all."
"I'm also… scared of Dr. Semmel."
Liston, Blundell, and Alfred conceded one after another.
Their reasons weren't ideal, but expecting more would've been greedy.
"Alright, let's get them some water."
For now, I was just grateful they were following my lead.