Dentistry.
I want to make it clear from the start that I have no intention of belittling or criticizing any particular field.
I'm just speaking from pure, genuine feeling.
Anyway…
'It's a truly terrifying place.'
It wasn't just scary when I was a child; it's scary even as an adult.
Just hearing the whirr of the drill makes my palms sweat.
By the time I reached the 19th century, I started to miss that kind of dentistry.
It hurts, but at least they use local anesthesia and, more importantly, they try to save your teeth.
'This… is absolutely not someone else's problem…'
I use dental floss, and I consider myself quite diligent about brushing my teeth.
The problem is that my toothbrush is also made from pig bristles, and I don't have anything resembling toothpaste, so I use salt.
The fact that salt or animal hair toothbrushes are quite expensive, so-called luxury items, isn't really a problem for me at this point.
I'd even be willing to pay more for a proper toothbrush and toothpaste.
But that's not possible, is it?
Which means, someday, my teeth could rot too.
'F*ck… Who would I even trust my teeth to then…?'
The only person that comes to mind right now is the dentistry mogul, Hans.
Sigh…
Hans.
That guy who was still using those huge extraction tools without any improvements, long after anesthetic gas was invented.
This simply won't do.
"Ah, Pyung."
"Brother."
"So you're getting involved in this now too."
"What choice do I have? My teeth are precious. In Joseon, there's a saying called the 'Five Blessings,' and having healthy teeth is one of them."
"Hmm? As I understand it, the Five Blessings of Joseon are: longevity (長壽 - living a long life), wealth (富 - living affluently and abundantly), health and peace (康寧 - living healthily), virtuous conduct (攸好德 - performing meaningful service for neighbors and others), and a natural death (考終命 - dying peacefully at home)?"
Oh…?
It's not teeth?
Well, I'm from South Korea and he's British, so normally I should be the one who's correct.
But…
I'm in a state of constant preoccupation, worrying about the future of humanity, and for some reason, this guy has become genuinely invested in Joseon, spending time on it every single day.
Besides, what he said sounds much more plausible.
Squeezing 'teeth' into longevity, wealth, health, virtue, and a natural death feels a bit out of place.
"Th-that's just how important teeth are. It's that kind of meaning. It's a proverb."
"Ahah… a proverb. Like 'not even knowing the letter ㄱ after seeing a sickle'?"
"No… Do you even know what that means?"
"Of course I do. Isn't it like 'not even knowing the letter A after seeing a pointed hat'?"
"Wow."
At this point, it's getting a bit scary.
Brother Liston has become a Joseon folk expert.
That's a pretty difficult proverb, and the ability to localize it immediately upon hearing it…
I'm genuinely starting to get scared that we might have to go to Joseon together someday.
-"I say, Pyung. This is quite different from what I had imagined."
That's exactly what will happen, one hundred percent.
Why?
Because I have absolutely no idea what Joseon is actually like right now.
I mean, I'm a doctor and consider myself fairly knowledgeable and interested in miscellaneous facts…
But I wasn't diligent enough to seriously focus on fields other than medicine.
At best, I watched some YouTube, and based on what I saw then, well…
Huh? It didn't seem like Joseon was as developed as here, to say the least.
-"I say, Pyung. Look at this."
What if he makes a *swish* sound and cuts my neck?
"I say, Pyung. Look at this."
"Eek!"
"What's the matter? The prisoners are here."
"Ah."
I was startled, wondering if he could read minds because he's a martial arts master.
However, seeing the prisoners he pointed to, gathered in a crowd, put my mind at ease.
Well, 'crowd' is an overstatement; there aren't that many.
If getting a reduced sentence is considered for something like a cavity treatment experiment, they must be individuals who committed truly minor offenses.
Ah, but 'minor offense' here shouldn't be thought of as the light crimes we imagine.
Don't think of things like public urination, spitting, or street brawls.
These are people who clearly assaulted someone, or stole or snatched something.
"Alright, this way."
Unlike before, I stood before the prisoners with only Liston, without any police or gang assistants.
I then pointed to one side.
"Eek…"
"Pyung-Sin person…"
"I-I made eye contact… Ugh."
Why?
Because these days, even if I'm alone without Liston, they tremble in fear.
Even if only violent criminals had come, they would have trembled just the same.
Somehow, I get the feeling that force won't work with me.
It's a curse, a curse.
A curse even His Majesty the King of the British Empire fears.
Slap
This time, another one fainted, so I checked his pulse—it was still beating.
So I slapped his cheek, and sure enough, he came to his senses, going "Haha."
This is just a natural response and reaction, isn't it?
London isn't that hot of a country, so there aren't many heat illness patients, but they must have seen orthostatic hypotension or vasovagal syncope before.
But…
"Ouch…"
"He was glaring earlier… idiot. His opponent is that Pyung-Sin person."
"Hey, hey, quiet. You wanna die too?"
"If you don't want your soul swapped, everyone should be quiet."
Maybe it's because my gaze is sharp.
They act like this at everything.
But well… It's not bad.
Because they became more alert than before.
Above all, today, it's important that they move like this.
I can't just gas anyone, lay them down, and start grinding teeth.
First, I need to look inside and see if there's anything worth treating.
"Alright, everyone, open your mouths!"
"Yes!"
The discipline is so tight it's almost reminiscent of the military.
Thanks to that, Liston and I, along with Colin, Joseph, Alfred, and the whiz kid John Snow, could easily assess the oral condition of the gathered individuals.
"Ugh…"
First, I could tell the halitosis was immense.
The upper class often chews on strange things to hide the smell, but these guys aren't the type to do that.
So, the smell is blatant, and since I'm the one who told them to open their mouths, it's hard for me to say anything.
"You, go over there. You stay here."
Anyway, the reason I gathered them all today wasn't just for simple cavity treatment but for overall oral hygiene improvement.
Even for someone like me, I felt I needed a grand purpose for privately ordering prisoners around.
Naturally, I instructed our research institute to develop more efficient toothbrushes and toothpaste.
The only disappointing thing is that chemical technology hasn't advanced enough yet, so it doesn't seem like anything amazing will come out.
'Even the cocaine… feels a bit impure?'
I clearly ordered all of it to be disposed of.
I ordered all related knowledge and materials to be discarded, but I knew even as I said it.
That it was absolutely impossible.
So I snooped around a bit through the back channels, and sure enough. Led by Duke Jamie, they started a cocaine business.
-"If it's such a bad drug, wouldn't selling it to France be patriotic? We are the patriots who will be remembered in history."
He said something like that…
Thinking about it, they're the ones who started the Opium Wars, so this was fully expected.
So I got some from behind the scenes to test its effects—not that I did it, mind you… It doesn't seem to be a level of concern yet.
It's nothing compared to what Uncle Pablo Escobar sold.
'In the midst of this, can we even make toothpaste?'
One might think toothpaste is just some white, sticky substance, but no.
So I gave another order: anywhere within the British Empire's dominion, or places we want to dominate, or are practically dominating—find out if there's a region where teeth don't rot easily and bring back whatever it is they use.
Ah, this order wasn't given to a research institute but to the military.
You might wonder if a civilian, even a noble, can do that, but my long arm seems to have reached there and beyond already.
"Alright, then those on the right. Our friends will go inside this room."
"Yes, yes!"
"Yes!"
Anyway, through classification, those confirmed to have good dental health were moved to another room.
"Huh?"
"Woo-hoo!"
Of course, they were all cheering.
Because those with good teeth were provided with desserts containing sugar.
Would they have ever eaten something like this before being locked up?
This isn't cheap stuff.
Of course, the price has dropped significantly since sugar was first introduced to Europe, but that's only true for people who are reasonably well-off.
For the majority, a sweet snack is still a dream.
"Here, here now. Eat to your heart's content."
Our chef, Uncle Henry, was showing off, saying he'd display his skills after a long time, so Brother Liston grabbed him by the nape and locked him in a room.
Therefore, these snacks are just haphazardly made, truly just sweet foods.
But for the prisoners, they can't be anything but the most delicious food in the world.
'Really… Is that what makes people's teeth rot more?'
'That's right. Statistically, it has to be.'
'But… tooth worms are purely coincidental…'
'Well… I noticed that people don't really believe in those worms anymore these days.'
'Sigh…'
Watching the prisoners happily eating lumps of sugar—food made deliberately stickier, the kind that could rot teeth in a day—were, as expected, London's influential figures.
Duke Jamie, along with various earls, parliament members, businessmen, and other recognizable names, were watching them with tense expressions.
In Britain, where it's no exaggeration to say delicious food is virtually non-existent… sugar couldn't be allowed to become a dangerous food.
But…
'What Columbus brought from the New World wasn't just syphilis, but this too.'
I could be sure, not because of future knowledge, but because of information obtained through our dentistry mogul.
Ever since sugar was first introduced, for hundreds of years, the number of cavity patients in London has been steadily rising.
Naturally, the number of dentists did too.
I heard the number of extractions increased tremendously after that as well.
Although it got to the point where they'd break jawbones while pulling teeth, and now they just pull what they can…
"Alright, the distinguished guests can head this way. You'll have to stay for a few days anyway."
"Ah, right."
"In the meantime, would you like some tea with sugar?"
"It might be the last time."
"Well… as you wish."
I left those influential figures and headed towards the prisoners classified as 'severe.'
Our medical team, including Liston, had already seated them calmly, with some placed in dental chairs I had ordered to be made.
They're called dental chairs, but they're just somewhat plush chairs that recline.
Above them is an oil lamp, providing a reasonably bright field of view, but if my head or an assistant's gets in the way, who knows what will happen.
'The most important thing is that I've never done this before.'
I was thinking this inwardly, but I walked towards a prisoner with a brazen face.
"Does your tooth feel sensitive usually?"
"Huh? Yes, yes."
"I'll fix it for you."
"I-I believe you."