"Well?"
As Liston pressed me, my mind went even blanker.
He wouldn't hit me now, of course.
Even if he did, it'd probably be in a joking manner.
But...
That doesn't mean Lee Soo-geun isn't afraid of Kang Ho-dong, right?
Besides, this medieval knight in front of me always carries a sword.
Knock knock.
Just as I was becoming paralyzed with fear, someone knocked on the door.
I thought it might be the salesman who just left, but an unexpected voice came through.
"Doctor, are you in?"
"The police?"
Liston, perhaps because he's always either prepared to commit a crime or has already committed one, has a particular knack for remembering police officers.
Even in my memory, the voice sounded vaguely like a policeman, so it must be one.
As is often the case in South Korea, making the police wait in this era was foolish.
The civic consciousness, located somewhere between barbarism and civilization, didn't make the police an exception.
While they wouldn't dare do it to Liston, for those with nothing and no power, the police were scarier than gangsters.
We had no reason to pick a fight, and I didn't have much to say anyway, so feeling relieved, I opened the door immediately.
"Oh, Doctor Pyeong. Perfect timing."
It wasn't just any policeman; it was a fairly high-ranking one.
I don't know police ranks well, but he's close to a chief superintendent.
Probably... ranks within the top three at the police station.
"Well, good to see you."
See?
Liston even stood up and offered a handshake.
Considering he usually bosses around mounted police with a flick of his chin, I could gauge the stature of the policeman now before us.
"Yes. I came to consult with you two doctors about something."
The man naturally took a seat.
Then he looked down at the sample wallpaper still on the table and shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you like this too, Doctor?"
"Well... I was starting to fancy it."
"Hmm, so it's not that after all?"
Then he said something that seemed意味深长 (meaningful).
Liston might not have given it much thought, but since I'd been worrying about arsenic all along, I could read a bit of the policeman's thoughts.
'Perhaps...'
This person.
He seems to think this wallpaper might be dangerous.
"Did you come because of this wallpaper, by any chance?"
I blurted it out, and the other person seemed very pleased.
"Ah, yes. You know the Harrison Hotel just down the street finished its interior renovations and reopened for business recently, right?"
"Ah..."
"I didn't know."
"Looks like you don't go to hotels. The food there is quite decent. Anyway, since it's run by Sir Jamie, quite a few high-ranking people gather there."
"Sir Jamie, you say."
"Mhmm."
If he's that wealthy and successful...
Huh?
He shouldn't have had his balls cut off.
Why act like an uneducated person like that...
And in the end, Harry was executed too.
These thoughts briefly crossed my mind.
Of course, I kept a straight face, so the policeman simply continued with what he was going to say.
"Among them, there was a painter recently brought in from France. That person, well... wasn't a high-ranking individual. But since Sir Jamie personally invited him, he must have been somewhat famous..."
"What about him?"
"He died in his room."
"Died? Was he old?"
"No, he was just over twenty years old. Died suddenly."
The policeman said this and then drank some water from a glass in the room, as if thirsty.
Thanks to Liston equipping it with 'hygienic properties' since 'that day,' it was actually distilled water.
"Hmm? The water tastes clean?"
"If you want to live long, it's good to drink distilled water."
"Why's that? Seems bothersome."
"That... no, anyway. Why did the person die?"
Liston was about to explain the origin of the water but, realizing the other was an ordinary 19th-century person, changed the subject.
If it were someone close, he'd beat sense into them, but wouldn't hitting a policeman be a crime?
Normally, hitting anyone is a crime, but...
It seemed that if Liston did the hitting, depending on the opponent, it would mostly be considered无罪 (not guilty).
Anyway, the policeman wasn't particularly interested in the water, so the topic soon returned.
"That's... it's a mystery. Officially, we're treating it as a natural death for now."
"Natural death. Well... that's possible."
A person just over twenty dies, and it's called a natural death.
It's so 19th-century it makes my heart swell.
You need this kind of breadth to be a 19th-century person, indeed.
"But it seems a bit strange to me."
"Strange?"
"There are traces suggesting he vomited before he died..."
"Vomited?"
"You don't usually vomit in a natural death, do you?"
"I'd need to see it to know."
"That's actually why I came to ask for your help."
"Well, sure. It's not like we've only received one or two bodies from you; we should help at times like this."
"That's Doctor Liston for you."
We got up to go.
As he said, what's one or two bodies? Almost all the bodies in the dissection lab came from the police.
It wasn't just executed prisoners; victims came too.
The vast majority were the bodies of the poor.
Often, for various reasons, these cases weren't even investigated, and since they were originally meant to be discarded, it might actually be beneficial for the police that we handled them.
'Discarding bodies... and just like that.'
I once asked what happened to the rest, and they said they'd show me. I still regret going to see.
They just dug a pit and dumped them there.
When I asked why they were doing it by the Thames River, they said because the ground was soft and easy to dig.
Madmen.
So, in the end, doesn't that mean the Thames is mixed with water from rotting corpses?
'It's distilled, so it's fine.... It's fine....'
I gave myself a strong mental suggestion and got into the carriage.
With mounted police up front, no one dared to get in our way.
Driving along a very pleasant road, the policeman continued.
"The strange thing is, there's no sign of anyone breaking in."
"Could it be poison?"
"Poison... it's possible. But according to testimonies, he even ate dinner with Sir Jamie and the others."
"And they are fine?"
"They're fine."
"Hmmmm..."
"Don't feel too pressured. Anyway, we're only doing this because of Sir Jamie. The moment Sir Jamie finds another painter, he'll lose interest."
"I suppose so."
This is a conversation between the police and a doctor about a person's death.
Hoho.
The problem is, I found myself thinking 'I suppose so' too before I knew it.
It probably will be like that.
What's the big deal about one dead Frenchman?
It's a bit of a waste if he was a good painter, but...
There are plenty of replacements here in Britain...
Good grief.
What am I saying?
A French person is still a person!
"This way."
I came to my senses, and we were already at the hotel.
It had just reopened, but the interior decor wasn't entirely new.
However, the price list was completely new, and one item caught my eye.
The Green Room.
Well...
It could mean a room for healing, but...
"Did the painter stay in this Green Room, by any chance?"
"Oh. How did you know?"
"Just a feeling."
"As expected... a shaman from Joseon."
"No, I'm Christian."
"Haha, right. Safer to say that. Don't worry. I've heard all about your divine powers."
I asked because it felt ominous, and got a strange answer.
I looked at Liston pleadingly for an explanation, but this bastard...
Averted his eyes.
Seems his mouth is looser than he looks...
Are we just going to let this slide?
Please forgive my rudeness earlier.
"Here, this way."
The policeman, after muttering about shamans, opened the door to the Green Room.
"They said they recently remodeled. Isn't it quite pretty?"
The inside was completely green.
It was similar to what I'd seen at Sir Jamie's house, but the difference was that this room was small and green on all sides.
It was called a hotel room, but it was basically a single room.
It did have a flush toilet attached, so it was high-class, and the decorations filling the room were also impressive, but still, it was just a single room.
"The body?"
"Ah, over there."
Inside, the painter was lying down.
His face was pale, with an expression of great agony.
As the policeman had said, there were traces of vomit beside him.
Some time had passed...
He had vomited.
Judging by the bulge in his trousers, he had also lost control of his bladder.
Then the smell should be toxic, but it wasn't.
It's not that there was no smell; there was a different smell.
"This... what is this musty smell?"
"I don't know either. They said they put up new wallpaper, but it smells moldy."
"Now that you mention it, it really does. Did something rot?"
I called it a musty smell to generalize, but...
It was a smell I'd definitely encountered before.
'Brain, work... Ah... this!'
And my good brain finally remembered.
"The wallpaper!"
"No, I told you the wallpaper was recently put up."
"Smell it! No, not too much! It's dangerous!"
"What are you talking about? Ah, perhaps, is it your divine power...?"
The policeman listened to my words for some other reason.
Liston had been watching my reaction and hadn't been able to speak up strongly.
Good.
I rode the momentum and continued.
"Did you smell it?"
"Ah, really... it does have a musty smell. Strange? They clearly said they put up new wallpaper recently."
"I don't know the exact cause either. But this wallpaper... this is arsenic wallpaper."
"Arsenic wallpaper?"
"Yes. It's coated with arsenic! Isn't arsenic poison? The painter was poisoned by it."
"Hmm."
I had made a perfect deduction.
Surrounded by wallpaper coated with arsenic, you would die.
Doesn't arsenic come off every time you touch it or rub against it?
But the reaction was somewhat lukewarm.
"If that were the case, all the rich people who hang paintings would be dead, wouldn't they?"
"Huh?"
"How long do you think this paint has been around?"
"No... you're saying this has been used for a long time?"
"Yes, that's right."
"That's strange. That can't be right."
"Even divine powers can miss sometimes. Indeed, we must rely only on the Lord. You should go to church too."
"I said I'm Christian!"
I understood the reason.
Paintings...
Yes, they've been painting consistently since the Middle Ages...
Especially in Europe, high-ranking people preferred to have portraits painted and displayed them throughout their homes to show their family's long history.
If that contained arsenic...
Logically, it is a bit strange that wallpaper on the wall is now the problem.
Of course, the quantity is a bit large here...
But couldn't arsenic be a more stable material than I thought?
I only learned about it in textbooks; I've never actually seen what happens, so I couldn't speak more strongly.
"Wait."
Then Liston stepped forward.
He was still examining the body.
"Why did you say you don't suspect poisoning?"
"They said he ate the same thing as everyone else."
"That's just the testimony of the living, isn't it?"
"True. It's not like we can ask the dead... wait, what?"
"We can't ask, but that doesn't mean there's no way to find out."
Liston drew his knife and began to remove the corpse's clothes.