Bang.
Usually, when something…
When a fight breaks out…
You know, in a fight not one-on-one but with dozens of people involved, you're supposed to have a plan and stuff, right?
Or not?
Have I been too immersed in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms?
Do Westerners just stupidly and fairly charge forward?
"Wh-what the hell!"
It was the middle of the night.
No matter how much of a slum the East End was, with this many people moving around with torches in one hand and swords or guns in the other, the police should have stepped in.
Ah, well, they are stepping in.
They're with us!
"Eh, eh! It's Liston!"
Anyway, we stormed into the building known to be the main den of the body suppliers.
For a building in the slums, it had a pretty hefty iron gate blocking the way, but it was useless.
Liston just tapped it, and it shattered with a bang.
It might be because Liston is so strong, but it was probably shoddy workmanship.
That's just how the British are.
"Wh-what the! Fuck! The Plague Doctor is here too!"
Who are you to be cursing?
When did you learn that?
Come to think of it, his face looks familiar. He's the guy who was delivering corpses when I first entered university.
Not that I see him anymore now that we have an exclusive contract with the police, but anyway.
"Those who want to go to Ireland, move to the right. You can leave unharmed."
Liston stood at the front and said this.
He was holding a riot baton in one hand.
Ah, it just looks like one; that thing is metal.
It's just a lump of iron, I tell you.
Even a regular riot baton can kill you if you get hit wrong, but that thing is obviously lethal even if you get hit right.
Probably the guys facing us now are aware of that fact too.
"Th-the Sword Saint…."
"Sh-shut the hell up, you idiot! He doesn't even have a sword, what Sword Saint!"
"What, you want me to draw it?"
"N-no, sir!"
The guy who was pushed to the front and trying to act tough immediately knelt down the moment Liston tapped the sword at his waist with his free hand.
Following that, about a third of them moved to where Liston pointed.
It might seem natural since it's not just Liston but we also have quite a few people on our side…
These are 19th-century gangsters.
And among them, the notorious body suppliers.
"As expected… it's the boss."
"Indeed… Liston."
"As expected of the Plague Doctor…"
"The Plague Doctor…"
The butchery gang members and police mixed in at the back were each expressing their admiration.
Yeah, this is purely thanks to Liston's personal strength.
There were some strange comments mixed in, but they're just talking nonsense, right?
No matter how infamous I am, I'm not at the level to make such vicious guys kneel.
They weren't here to kill me in the first place.
"Well then…"
While I was lost in these thoughts, Liston nodded while looking at the remaining guys.
The words that followed were something I never could have imagined coming from him.
"Since you refuse the wine of persuasion, I shall serve the wine of punishment."
Was the book he brought some kind of wuxia novel?
Just as I was having that thought—really, in the blink of an eye—Liston charged into the enemy ranks.
Thud.
Simultaneously, the baton swung.
And two guys went flying.
Crunch.
Along with a rather unpleasant sound.
"Ugh."
I inadvertently let out a groan, and a policeman approached me from behind and said,
"Please try to leave some of the ones who are still breathing for later."
"Ah… but they're probably dead…"
"The ones not hit by Liston, I mean."
"Ahh, then that might be possible."
I didn't feel any tension anymore.
Just a moment ago, it was genuinely scary, you know?
I mean, it's not like I've ever been in a fight before…
I spent my entire school years studying hard, just like the teachers said.
Even at the hospital, my heart would pound like crazy just from getting into arguments.
So how could I not tremble in a fight where people are trying to kill me?
'Huh? Now that I think about it, maybe I wasn't trembling that much after all?'
Maybe it's because I've seen so many horrible things.
Anyway, it wasn't just me who was tense; the veteran gangsters and the police, who are practically rougher than gangsters, were also tense.
But now…
Crunch.
Yeah, that's like the autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves.
Every time Liston swings his baton, everyone goes flying.
Isn't this exactly how ancient heroes like Xiang Yu or Richard the Lionheart were described?
He's large-framed, but that alone doesn't explain his sheer strength, agility, and skill.
I do wonder why a doctor ended up mastering such skills, but anyway…
Crunch.
He's truly amazing.
He could have almost handled this alone.
Well, no, if he had come alone, he might have been hit by a stray knife or bullet.
Anyway, in just a few minutes, the momentum had completely shifted to our side.
To the point that the guys who had early on moved to the left were openly sighing in relief.
"Whew."
After about ten more minutes, all the guys who had resisted were down.
Half of the downed guys were Liston's handiwork, but Liston himself looked as refreshed as if he'd just been on a stroll.
It wasn't that he wasn't sweating at all, but…
He'd sweated less than me, who'd just been standing around doing nothing in the back.
'Now that I think about it… is there any guarantee that only I crossed over?'
What if I came from the modern era, and this guy came from a wuxia novel?
Yeah, that's it.
That would explain everything.
That absurd indifference and overwhelming strength…
"What are you thinking about?"
"Ah, nothing."
I should seriously ask him later if we ever get a drink together.
"Anyway, treating all these guys is going to be a chore in itself."
"Huh? But they're all dead."
"Hm? They're not dead. If I wanted to kill them, I would've drawn my sword."
"Wha…?"
Listening to him, I saw that it was true.
All of them…
Only their legs were broken.
In fact, there might be some who died from the half-baked club beatings by the police or gang members, but everyone the boss hit was still alive.
"Oh dear, this is…"
"Well, it's not a common situation. Let's just treat them roughly."
"Huh? No, but still."
"Don't forget. These guys are body sellers; it's just not proven in court. If they heal too well, they might go to Ireland and cause trouble again."
"Ah… Right. Anyway…"
Fractures.
In the 21st century, they're considered almost trivial ailments.
Really, young people breaking limbs while exercising is… nothing, right?
Fractures like hip fractures in elderly people have terrifying mortality rates, but…
If you can realign the displaced bone and immobilize it, whether with a cast or screws, it can heal.
But right now…
'Even if I do my best, what good will it do?'
They don't even see fractures at the hospital.
No, they do see them, but by my standards, it's not doctors but morticians who handle them.
Or guys who perform experiments-like personal fantasies on patients.
So where do the injured go?
They go to the church.
The church prays for them.
Think that's strange?
It wasn't that long ago that people sincerely believed the King's Touch was effective against tuberculosis.
After I got out of the concentration camp—no, the monastery—and started looking into tuberculosis properly, I found out they thought it was a hereditary disease.
So they believed it happened because you sinned and needed to be treated by the King's Touch, and when that didn't work for hundreds of years, they started locking people in monasteries and occasionally beating them as treatment.
"Heave-ho!"
"Whew."
I know there are limits, but I'm still a doctor.
Even if the patient in front of me is a bad person, I should still treat them first.
Fortunately, with a martial arts master like Liston here, traction wasn't difficult.
Actually, legs are really hard to put traction on because they have so much muscle.
But Liston just goes "heave-ho" and pulls, whether it's a leg or anything else.
Well, even so, just splinting and bandaging it won't lead to a proper recovery; proper immobilization is key.
While we were focused on treatment, the butchery guys and the police were busy moving the remaining guys to send them to Ireland.
"But…"
"Hm."
"Ireland is inhabited too, right? Are they just sending guys like that there?"
"Ah… well, yes, but to be more precise, it's not exactly inhabited by the same kind of people."
"Huh?"
"You can think of it as a place like Devil's Island."
"Ah…"
I was surprised they were sending criminals to Ireland, but as I listened, I remembered.
I heard that for various reasons, the Irish really hate the British.
Now I see it's not without reason; the discrimination must be incredible.
I even heard that during the Irish Great Famine, a whopping 2 million people died, and it was partly Britain's fault.
'I really shouldn't go to Ireland.'
A Joseon-lineage British citizen.
Wow… I'd be dead, seriously.
Well, maybe it'd be fine if I were with Liston…
But surely there's no reason to go somewhere that far?
At least for a while, the higher-ups won't let me go anywhere because of their diabetes treatment.
"Um… Plague Doctor, sir?"
While I was treating them and lost in thought, someone called me.
Liston was the one who did all the work, but for some reason, they were being respectful to me too.
Anyway, it was a gang member.
Since he helps with pancreas transport, his face was very familiar.
"Yeah, what is it?"
"Yes, well… The people from the lab are here. They said they have something urgent to discuss."
"Oh, okay. Where are they?"
"They're over there."
Following his pointing finger, I saw the chemist gentleman standing there.
Ah, right, I saw him earlier.
I forgot about him while watching people get beaten up.
"Hyung. Someone from the lab is here."
"Oh. What is it? It feels like pouring water into a bottomless jar."
"Well…"
Why does this guy use Joseon proverbs so fluently and aptly?
Thinking he's better at it than me, I went over to the gentleman.
Even if it's okay for me, Liston had blood splattered all over him, so the gentleman unconsciously took a step back.
Not that it did much good.
Our steps are bigger.
"What's the matter?"
"Uh, well."
Besides, because of Liston, Alfred's father, Colin's father, Inspector Jamie, and others connected to the lab, he couldn't really do anything to upset us.
So, pulling himself together, the chemist handed me two documents.
Something complicated was written on them; frankly, I wouldn't understand even if I looked.
I needed an explanation.
"Two projects are showing results… One is still a bit ambiguous, and the other is… absolutely insane."
"Let's hear about the ambiguous one first."
Let's save the good news for later.
If this guy says it's insane, it must be a huge success.
"You know the arsenic compounds, right? The ones you suggested for syphilis before."
"Ah, yes. That, by any chance?"
"Three candidates remain… They definitely seem to kill syphilis. The problem is…"
"The problem is?"
"They keep killing people too."
"Well, that's…"
"But they definitely kill fewer people than before. We probably need to experiment…"
"How can we do human experimentation?"
"There's a line at the police station, right? Among the death row inmates, there must be many with syphilis…"
"Hmm."
It's hard for me to say anything, since I'm already in too deep.
No, in a way, I'm the one who went the farthest.
So I just nodded.
More than that, if this is the ambiguous one, what on earth is the good news?
Could it be… penicillin?
Is it penicillin?!
"What's the other one?"
I asked with an expectant face, and the gentleman, responding to that, answered with a truly proud expression.
"We extracted cocaine from coca leaves!"
Ah.
It was summer.