"What on earth is this!"
The policeman....
The police of this era are called police, but they're basically thugs.
I wondered why, but it seems the security guards since the medieval times were like that.
The money they received from the lords was meager, so extorting civilians was their real job and source of tips....
While it's not entirely the same now, the current police have inherited much of that, so they are very tolerant of fairly heinous acts.
Especially someone who has risen this high must have seen, heard, and experienced a lot, making him even more so, yet such a person was greatly shocked.
It was that kind of situation.
"We need to know what he ate!"
"But why the knife? Why the clothes...?"
"Haha, well, you see. It's all because of Pyeong."
"Pyeong...? Does Doctor Pyeong have such a hobby?"
The policeman, who had been wide-eyed like a startled rabbit, now turned to look at me.
It was unfair.
What did I...?
When did I...?
"Didn't you do that back then? Cutting open the belly, cutting open the stomach, saying, 'This corpse seems to have eaten eel jelly before dying.'"
"Ah."
So that's it.
I did that, huh?
But that was truly an academic attitude.
It was absolutely not... like a mad scientist.
"So, to find out what this unfortunate friend ate before he died."
"Aha... You have to cut open the belly and open up the stomach, right?"
"That's right."
"Do it quickly."
Anyway, the policeman, having accepted the reason, instead of stopping it, began to urge the cutting open of the corpse's belly.
Consent from the family?
There was no such thing.
Probably...
'Since he's a Frenchman, it'd be lucky if they don't just dump him somewhere.'
Even if they tried to take him back to France, it was a problem.
How would they handle preservation?
No matter how rich Sir Jamie is or how much care he takes... it would clearly rot uncontrollably during the humid sea voyage and the bumpy carriage ride.
This is just between us, but... I've heard they sometimes just send anything.
"Wait, put on some gloves first."
"Gloves? Why wear those?"
"Haha... Sometimes you can be so ignorant. Miasma comes from corpses."
"Miasma?"
"There have been policemen who died after handling corpses, right? It's all because of this."
"Good heavens, then what should we do!"
Our excellent Liston put on gloves before cutting the belly open with his knife.
In the meantime, I also put on gloves and joined.
Cutting open a human corpse in a hotel room....
It's not something I'm keen on, but if everyone is convinced, then it should be fine, right?
Besides, we must somehow reveal this arsenic murder.
They keep saying it's not, but I somehow feel it's because of arsenic.
That's also why I wore a mask.
It's questionable whether a mere cloth mask can block particles dispersed in the air, but....
'It's mental防疫 (epidemic prevention). Mental防疫....'
Maybe it helps a little if I chant it like a spell.
"Wearing gloves usually makes it fine."
"You mean gloves like these?"
"Yes. Leather gloves might actually allow miasma to grow more on them. Rubber gloves are the best."
"Where can I buy these...?"
"Don't worry. You can buy them here."
"Aha."
In the midst of even doing business, Liston swiftly cut open the belly with a moderately sized knife.
Ssschlick.
Then he paused for a moment and looked at me.
I couldn't understand why.
Cutting it open swiftly was Liston himself.
"Why?"
"Shouldn't we disinfect it?"
"Ah, right."
It was because of his hygiene obsession.
It's touching.
My heart swells!
How much... how many harsh nights have I spent alone to instill this concept in him?
"Where..."
"Here it is."
"Right. Take it out."
"Yes."
Anyway, I slowly took out the stomach of the corpse, which was starting to rot.
Then Liston, without a moment's hesitation, cut open the stomach.
There were some contents left inside.
If this had been Korean food—no, if it had been proper food, it would probably have been difficult to identify the forms.
But British food was different.
I don't know how they cook it, but it's hard to chew, hard to digest, and has no taste to speak of.
The chefs should all be beheaded.
"What was the dinner menu?"
"Ah... Mutton steak."
"Here it is. And this, what's this?"
"Ah... Cucumber."
"Cucumber, huh."
After closely examining the stomach, duodenum, and small intestine, the results showed that the unfortunate victim's last meal consisted of toughly grilled mutton steak, cucumber fish dish, eel pudding, and sardine pie.
'This person is French...'
What kind of misfortune is this, coming to Britain to earn money?
He probably wasn't very happy while eating the food either.
Seeing the people eating with him enjoying it, he must have wondered what to say.
And as if that weren't enough, he died.
And also... while vomiting.
"He ate the same food but died."
"Couldn't it be a natural death?"
"You don't usually vomit in a natural death."
"Hmmm..."
I cautiously interjected into their conversation.
Considering one was Liston and the other was a high-ranking police officer, the fact that I could interject like this was itself a great success.
"Wait a moment."
"Ah, go ahead and speak."
"Yes, Doctor Pyeong. I've heard all about your divine powers."
The reason is a bit strange, but....
Anyway, I recited my thoughts.
"When poisoned by arsenic, vomiting, diarrhea... and sweating occur."
"Are those poisoning symptoms? Isn't that the process of getting better?"
"Yes, Pyeong. That's a bit too much."
Damn it.
What kind of nonsense is this now?
"Tha... That's right. Let's assume it's not poisoning. Anyway, if you ingest arsenic or something, doesn't vomiting occur?"
"It does."
"This patient vomited. Shouldn't it be rational to assume it was due to arsenic? This wallpaper, they said it's painted with arsenic paint."
"Listening to you, hmm. Did this friend lick the wall or something?"
Just when I thought it was going well, it veers off in a strange direction again.
Why would he lick the wall!
Is he a pervert?
No, no.
Since he's a Frenchman... he might have.
"Wouldn't powder scatter even if he didn't lick it?"
Of course, as a righteous 21st-century doctor who doesn't blame innocent victims, I presented a more rational inference.
"Powder. Arsenic powder? Hmmm... It's not impossible, but... this has been hugely popular in France for a long time now. They said it exploded in popularity over months, but the upper class has been using it for quite a while. If this really scatters powder, shouldn't everyone be dead?"
"Shouldn't we... keep the possibility open? It's something we learned during anesthesia—even the same drug reacts slightly differently from person to person."
"Is that so?"
Liston backed up my words.
"Yes. It's different for everyone. Amazing, isn't it?"
Actually, it's just that the dosage needed varies depending on body size and liver detoxification ability, but we left that in the realm of mystery for now.
If I explained all that, I might seem too mysterious.
They already seem to be going around talking about my divine powers or something....
What would happen if I go further?
I'd be labeled a cult leader and killed, or worse, become an actual religious leader.
"I see. So this person was particularly vulnerable to arsenic, is that it?"
"Yes."
"Well... I understand. That was helpful. Now that we know what food he ate, the investigation should progress. Thank you."
"It's nothing. Just send us any executed prisoners you have."
"Yes, yes. I won't forget to send them."
The exchange was somewhat strange but warm, and we returned.
We didn't just come back blankly.
"Hyung."
"Yeah."
"I have a really bad feeling about this arsenic."
"Really? Actually, I felt a bit of that back there too. Being in that room, I felt slightly dizzy, you know?"
"Really? You felt that too, Hyung? I thought I was feeling nauseous from cutting open the stomach."
"Ah, was that it...?"
"Anyway! It seems we need to look deeper into arsenic. It's actually a poison, right?"
"Well... That's true. It is used that way too. But it's also used as medicine."
Medicine, damn it.
This...!
Salvarsan hasn't even been invented yet!
I wanted to say that but barely held back.
Hehe.
Looking at Liston's face improves one's character.
"Tha... So, that process might be a misunderstanding, so let's look into it properly."
"A misunderstanding... a misunderstanding."
"Yes. A misunderstanding. Didn't we prove that the traditional view on miasma was completely wrong? Well, most still don't accept it, but..."
"That's right, yes! Thinking about it, you're right! Then where should we start looking...."
"Hmm. Literature?"
The start of study is always books, right?
Isn't that obvious?
But Liston was different.
"Get away from that bookworm attitude. You just said we need to break away from traditional views, and now you want to look at books filled with old teachings?"
"That..."
Saying a scholar shouldn't look at books....
It was oddly persuasive.
It sounds plausible!
"Then what should we do?"
"Hey, you!"
Liston called the coachman.
"Yes."
"Let's go to the apothecary."
"Ah... Yes."
Then we headed to the apothecary.
The apothecary....
One of the roots of all evil.
They even sell opium tincture there.
To be fair, it's an era with no other usable medicine, but....
"Let's go in."
"Ah, yes."
Anyway, we went inside the apothecary.
I didn't even know why we were going in.
I just went because he said to.
"Owner, come out!"
I realized upon entering.
We're robbers.
"Yes? Yes?"
"Do you have any medicine made with arsenic? Bring it all out."
"Huh? No, what... who...."
"Is that important?"
"No, it's not!"
The owner, recognizing Liston's face, quickly brought out various bottles.
"This is probably the main one."
"Fowler's solution? What's that?"
"It sells the best. If you take it, it causes diarrhea and vomiting. And sweating... and eventually, after convulsions, it even reduces fever."
If there are convulsions after diarrhea, vomiting, and sweating....
Is that the fever going down?
Isn't it cooling down?
In other words, it means dying.
And something like this is being sold openly....
In the 19th century, which is supposed to be somewhat scientifically advanced!
"It is a potent medicine, reducing fever and all."
"Yes, it is."
"I need to research this first."
"Uh, uh."
"Why."
"Nothing. Good luck with your research."
Anyway, Liston took the medicine and got into the carriage.
Then he called the coachman.
"Hey, you."
"Yes."
"Next, to the wallpaper seller."
"Ah... Yes."
I don't have the skill to read the coachman's mind, but....
He's probably praying for the wallpaper seller's peace in the afterlife, right?
Like me.
"Owner, come out!"
"Give me all of this."
"Now, let's go. Next is the clothing store."
The problem was that as time went on, the number of people I needed to pray for kept increasing.