Clatter.
The coachman, his face still flushed red, shamelessly climbed onto the carriage.
'Are there no laws against drunk driving yet…?'
Probably not.
Even now, hobbies like hunting were still popular among nobles and the newly wealthy, weren't they?
Before coming here, I couldn't understand how hunting could be a hobby rather than a means of survival… but the nobles' version of hunting wasn't what I'd imagined.
It was essentially a picnic with guns.
They'd go out, drink, and do whatever.
In other words, they'd ride horses, shoot guns—all while drunk.
So what's the big deal about driving a carriage after a few drinks…?
"Uh, sir!"
"Huh? I'm watching."
"Watching what?! You almost hit a tree!"
"Nah, nah. The horse is watching."
"Ah…"
Right. The horse wasn't drunk.
Now that I thought about it, even if the driver was reckless, the horse was moving flawlessly.
Of course, the coachman wasn't completely senseless—he wasn't speeding, at least.
'If cars suddenly appeared in this situation… wouldn't it be a disaster?'
Huh?
These bastards would probably speed like mad, wouldn't they?
Drunk, with some even firing guns along the way.
If you think that's an exaggeration, try living here.
Come and see for yourself!
'When was the first car invented?'
No idea.
Absolutely none.
I briefly regretted not studying history before coming, but that regret quickly faded.
Realistically, how could I have known?
Who would've guessed I'd get diagnosed with a brain tumor right after becoming a professor, get hit by a truck while drowning my sorrows, and wake up in 19th-century London?
If someone had told me that, I'd have punched them.
"What are you thinking about so hard?"
While lost in pointless thoughts—and staring uneasily at the horses—Joseph suddenly spoke up.
He was fiddling with the talisman the man had given us earlier.
"Uh…"
Just as I was thinking I can't tell him I was imagining cars, my mouth moved on its own.
"I was wondering if the man will be okay."
"Ah, as expected. You're a good guy."
Is this the power of a Bullshit Master?
It's not even a passive skill—the lies just flow out perfectly on cue.
"Anyway, the ship… I thought it'd be fine, but…"
"Because of him?"
"Yeah. My dad's not usually the type to exaggerate, you know?"
"Exaggerate…"
No one could endure 19th-century surgery without being dramatic.
Even with anesthesia.
Without proper local anesthesia, pain was inevitable during disinfection and other procedures.
Especially without effective antibiotics or antiseptics, treatments had to be rougher.
—"Just drink alcohol."
—"No… the surgical site will get infected."
—"Nonsense. Everyone does it this way."
—"I'm Dr. Listen's student."
—"Oh."
Calling someone a drama queen after they endured having their stomach sliced open yesterday—only to immediately reach for alcohol—seemed unfair.
His reaction just proved how terrifying sailing must be…
"Dr. Listen's with us, so it'll be fine, right?"
"It has to be. Right?"
"It will."
"Can even the sea be tamed…?"
The man's fearful expression—and the talisman he'd given us—only deepened our own dread.
By the time we reached London, Alfred was already waiting, fully prepared.
"How's Father?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Our Taepyeong did an amazing surgery."
"You're seriously incredible. Stomach surgery, right? How'd you even know it was the intestines?"
In the past, I'd have been stumped.
But not now.
How did I know?
"I saw it during dissection."
"Ah."
Already lying through my teeth.
Of course, this only worked because I'd been diligent with dissections.
So anything I said sounded plausible.
"Anyway, Father checked everything thoroughly."
"Wow… Shouldn't we thank him?"
"He's abroad now. He's a merchant."
"Ah, right. He doesn't carry talismans or anything, does he?"
Probably not.
A seasoned sailor wouldn't need superstitions.
He'd be fine!
"Ah, right. My bad."
But as always, my expectations were betrayed.
Before I knew it, Alfred was handing me a talisman.
And it looked even newer than the one Joseph's uncle had given us.
"He said to keep this on you."
"Aren't we all believers in the Lord?"
"Dunno. He said it's tradition."
"Ah."
These bastards.
Are they all just pretending to go to church?
Honestly, given what they do overseas, it wouldn't surprise me.
How can people who cry "Lord, Lord!" commit such atrocities in the colonies?
"Anyway, rest today. We leave tomorrow. I heard our cabin's really nice. It shouldn't be too bad."
"Oh."
My simmering frustration quickly faded.
Yeah, the man really was a child of God.
If he'd even arranged a good cabin, he deserved gratitude.
Sure, the British did terrible things in history, but not all British are bad, right?
With those thoughts, I loosened up, eased my tension, and drank some fine wine from Upturn—until I blacked out.
And then… morning came.
"Ugh…"
No, not just morning—I was already in front of the ship.
No, more accurately, in front of Listen.
"Why so surprised?"
Wasn't he always a bit like a warrior?
Now he looked like a full-fledged wandering swordsman.
He'd even hired attendants, carrying luggage several times his size.
How could anyone even lift that?
Was he secretly a mana-wielder?
"We'll conduct experiments, showcase our advanced surgical techniques, and flaunt our dissection skills, no?"
"Please don't tell me you brought cadavers."
"What insane nonsense. They'd rot on the way."
"Ah."
So rotting was the only reason not to bring them?
Couldn't they be preserved in formalin…?
Wait, no—
"Listen, Taepyeong. You know about the French and their… lax respect for laws, yes?"
"Ah, yes."
Even if I didn't, I had to pretend.
Listen hated the French—maybe he'd been slapped by one as a child.
"Good. But it's not all bad."
"Huh?"
"I heard cadavers are very easy to acquire there. They just dig them up fresh—before the dirt's even settled—so they're in perfect condition."
"Ah…"
Of course London wasn't the only uncivilized place.
Paris wouldn't be an exception.
I'd been naive to hope otherwise.
"Ah, and… one more thing. You know about the revolution in Paris, yes?"
Everyone but me nodded.
French Revolution…?
Marie Antoinette…?
As I puzzled over this, Listen continued.
"Nobles were slaughtered, but… they were always like that. No need to mind it. Doesn't concern us. But, Colin?"
"Yes."
"Be careful with your temper. Not that it's obvious, so no worries."
"Yes…"
He dropped that casually brutal remark and turned toward the ship.
"Also, I've compiled a list of good restaurants through acquaintances. Say what you will about the French, but their food is excellent."
Wow.
Now that I liked.
Come to think of it, I'd never had much connection to French cuisine in my past life.
I'd died right after becoming a professor, but even before that, French food never seemed popular in Korea.
Probably because it didn't suit our tastes…
'Still a hundred times better than British food.'
I was certain.
Anything beat these maniacs who made jellied eels and boiled fish with raw cucumbers.
Frankly, these people must've collectively damaged their taste buds.
Or their noses…
'Huh?'
Wait—was the Thames' filthy water the foundation of British culinary tradition?
Did their childhood exposure to that sewage ruin their ability to cook anything decent?
"Let's go. I heard our cabin is excellent."
As I pondered this, Listen led us toward the ship.
The ship…
The ship had sails.
Strange.
Wasn't this the age of steam engines?
I was pretty sure steam locomotives were already in trial operation…
"It's a clipper ship. Supposedly very fast."
Where's the steamship?
Why a sailing ship in the 19th century?
"Wow."
"Nice."
"This is the latest model, right?"
Was I the only one confused? The others were ecstatic.
Suspecting the man had tricked us, I scanned the harbor—but it was all sailing ships.
Well, one steamship was visible…
But it was…
Tiny…!
'Are steamships… not yet commercialized? Is that it?'
Wasn't this practically no different from the Age of Exploration?
And sailors from that era…
"Uh, watch out— Sorry about that."
Would be rough.
Just then, I witnessed the epitome of a grizzled sailor—glaring at Listen after bumping into him, only to immediately bow in apology.
'Maybe… it won't be so bad.'
Yeah.
It had to be.
I'd secretly hoped for something Titanic-esque, but…
Anyway, boarding the ship, it wasn't bad.
No, it was quite nice.
Especially our assigned cabin—luxurious, even.
"Wow."
"Nice."
"The man really splurged."
"First class. Even the food's different. The voyage is short, so it wasn't too expensive."
"Oh…"
Nice.
No, it was nice.
At least until we set sail.
"Ugh."
Having only been on cruise ships in my past life, I thought I didn't get seasick.
Wrong.
I get it bad.
How could anyone not feel sick with this rocking…?
"Taepyeong… You're so weak."
There was one.
Listen was fine.
Not sure if that was a relief, but everyone else was seasick.
No, not just us—other passengers too.
Was this normal?
"All passengers, return to your cabins! A storm is coming!"
Apparently not.
Right, the ship shouldn't be rocking this much.
Anyway, groaning, we huddled in our cabin, clutching talismans and crosses as we prayed.
The funniest part? Listen had brought a talisman too.
Between the relentless prayers and vomiting, exhaustion took over, and I passed out.
When I woke, the storm had passed.
But something else had arrived.
"Ah, Taepyeong. Perfect timing."
"There's a severely injured man here!"
A patient.