"Surgery?"
Dr. Liston paused, as if caught off guard by the question. He wasn't just hesitating—he genuinely seemed to freeze, like a glitch in a system, staring off into an awkward space.
"Yes, surgery."
I thought this might be a good sign. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't have hesitated for a second. I'd have already made a run for it. But Dr. Robert seemed completely stuck at this moment.
"Wait... um. If it's not a dangerous gas... no, it probably isn't dangerous..."
He continued muttering to himself, as if he'd forgotten I was even there. Sure, in 21st-century Korea, you might see people talking to themselves, but this was 19th-century England. The concept of "macho" didn't even begin to describe the culture here.
This was an era where men would do the most absurd, life-threatening things just to prove their masculinity. And among them, Dr. Robert Liston was practically at the top of the hierarchy. Yet here he was, muttering weakly to himself. It was truly astonishing.
"I've already inhaled it a few times. Hmm... um... using laughing gas for surgery... um..."
He was still going. Just as I was starting to get bored, the professor grabbed my shoulder.
"Ow, that hurts."
"Have you ever tried this experiment before?"
"Huh? No, I don't think so... Ow, that really hurts."
"Ah, I see."
Wow. Since when did human hands feel like hooks? Even after he let go, I had to rub my shoulder for a while before I could speak without groaning. I was definitely going to have a bruise. If I wasted any more time, I'd probably end up with bruises elsewhere too, so I quickly spoke up.
"I came to you as soon as I thought of it."
"Is that so? Hmm. We'll have to run an experiment."
"Ah, yes."
An experiment. Good, I made the right choice talking to the professor. There must be research funds, so we could buy lab rats and... make them inhale it to see what happens.
To calculate the dosage, we'd need a scale, a way to measure volume, and most importantly, equipment to precisely measure how much gas was being administered.
'Wow... even a rough estimate suggests this isn't going to be cheap.'
It was going to cost a fortune.
"Would you like to try it yourself?"
"Huh?"
Doctors are like that, aren't they? Unless you're running your own practice, thinking about money always makes your head spin. I stayed at the university hospital precisely because I didn't want to deal with that, so I was even more susceptible. Just thinking about the cost made my vision blur.
And then came the question: "Would you like to try it yourself?"
"Well, if you're offering, I'd be grateful."
"Oh, you'd do that?"
Better than calculating costs, right? It's been a while since I've worked with rats, but I'm still a surgeon, so my hands are pretty steady. I'm confident I could still suture a femoral artery without a loupe (surgical magnifier). I'm proud of my physical condition, especially my eyesight.
"Good. Medicine won't forget your spirit of sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?"
What was he talking about? If spending time on experiments was a sacrifice, then Dr. Robert was being way too generous.
'No way. This isn't that kind of era...'
Even if Dr. Robert were in the 21st century, he'd probably be the type to exploit people. I'd never been exploited by him, but he just had that vibe. His size alone was intimidating.
And look at his colleagues, like Dr. Blundell—they've all been through the wringer. So when he said "sacrifice," he probably meant real sacrifice.
'Is this lunatic planning to cut off my leg...?'
It didn't make sense, but this was a barbaric era. Even the Romans might not have been this bad, but the 19th century was something else.
"Wait, hold on!"
"What is it?"
Fear gripped my entire body. I couldn't die like this. Summoning my courage, I grabbed Dr. Robert, who was clearly heading to get a knife. He turned to look at me, and our eyes met.
'If I mess this up, I'm dead...'
I'd never seen a tiger, but his fierce gaze was enough to make me feel like I was staring one down.
"W-what kind of sacrifice?"
"Ah... you're volunteering, aren't you?"
No, what do you mean volunteering? If it's an experiment, I'll do it. I'm more confident in clinical trials than anyone else in this era. But if the subject is me... that's a no-go. Absolutely not.
'Even if I could live without one leg... could I survive having it cut off?'
No way. I'm not that strong. My white blood cells and antibodies wouldn't stand a chance against his knife.
"What... kind of volunteering..."
"Hahaha! Did you think I was going to cut off your leg?"
He must have noticed the terror in my eyes because the professor burst out laughing. Seeing him laugh like that made me feel a little relieved. Maybe I overreacted. Who would just cut off someone's leg? Besides, he didn't seem crazy enough to laugh like that and then go through with it.
I forced a smile, but then the professor stopped laughing and said, "I'll pull out a tooth. Haha. You've got plenty of those. Losing one won't be a problem."
...
This lunatic...
Is he seriously talking about pulling out a healthy tooth?
Are you even a doctor?
'There's no such thing as unnecessary tissue...'
Don't you go to church? Even if you're not a doctor, shouldn't you believe that God didn't create anything without a purpose? Who do you think you're praying to before meals? Are you some kind of devil worshipper?
"Haha, don't be nervous. If this really works, it won't hurt. If it doesn't, well, it'll hurt."
Before you talk about pain...
Stop laughing while talking about pulling out someone's tooth...
I wish I could say that to his face, but unfortunately, I'm not that brave. I couldn't even speak up in front of my university hospital professors...
'But I can't let my tooth get pulled... Think, brain, think!'
I couldn't just stay silent and end up having my tooth pulled after inhaling laughing gas. So, as I followed the oddly cheerful Dr. Robert Liston, I racked my brain.
After thinking for a while, it hit me—I'm Korean.
Yes, I'm Korean.
'Confucianism, Confucianism!'
"Our body, hair, and skin are received from our parents."
Hahaha.
Yes, that's it.
That's the ticket!
"Professor."
"Yes?"
"I'm Korean, right?"
"Of course. I know that."
I quickened my pace to walk beside him. I couldn't quite match his stride—he was just too tall.
"In Korea, we place great importance on filial piety."
"We do that here too. It's only natural for humans."
"Well... in Korea, it's more than that. We have a concept called 'Our body, hair, and skin are received from our parents.'"
"What does that mean?"
He looked at me like I was spouting nonsense. He even stopped walking. I'd probably do the same if I were in his shoes. Here he was, about to take a great leap forward in medicine, and I was throwing a wrench in the works. But it was my idea that got us here, so I had the right to speak. At the very least, I had the right not to have my tooth pulled.
"Ah... so, you're saying we should cherish everything we receive from our parents?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you cut your hair?"
"Huh?"
Damn. I thought I explained it well, but he caught me with a sharp question. But I'd already started, so I decided to just wing it.
"Hair grows back, but teeth don't. Teeth aren't something I can just regenerate."
"That's unscientific."
"But it's our belief. It's not unbiblical, is it?"
"Hmm... well... I suppose. If you're refusing the honor of your idea, I won't push it."
"Thank you for understanding. And I'm sorry."
"Huh? No, no. It's a good idea. Besides, there are plenty of volunteers."
Volunteers?
Really?
For having a tooth pulled?
As I pondered this, we arrived at the lecture hall. Dr. Blundell was in the middle of a class, and of course, he wasn't happy when the door opened.
"...of."
But Dr. Robert Liston was an excellent anger suppressant. Dr. Blundell quickly calmed down and asked in a composed voice, "What's going on?"
"Our friend here came up with an idea."
But when he looked at me, his expression was a bit odd. My idea was clearly helpful, but it was also a bit of a hassle. He'd just come back from the wards, and his hands were still red. It would've been strange if he wasn't angry. Of course, he was planning to change the guidelines so that only soap was needed before surgery or patient consultations, but it was still too early. For now, he was sticking to the method that made it obvious if someone hadn't washed their hands.
"Laughing gas. Everyone knows about it, right?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't?"
Dr. Robert Liston continued, "If you inhale this, the pain goes away... so why not use it during surgery?"
"Hahaha! That's ridiculous! It's been around for years... if it worked, we'd already be using it!"
"Have you ever used it?"
"No."
"Have you experimented with it?"
"No. Don't look at me like that. It's scary."
Dr. Blundel chuckled and then looked at the floor. Having dominated the lecture hall with his presence, Dr. Robert Liston continued, "So let's try it. If we inhale this and pull out a tooth, it should work, right?"
This made no sense. Since when do you just experiment on people out of the blue? Especially pulling out a tooth?
You lunatics.
"Ah, a tooth? That's a good idea."
"Right. Teeth are painful. Pulling one out won't cause any major issues."
"Right, right."
Despite my thoughts, the two distinguished medical professors continued their discussion about tooth extraction.
"So, any volunteers? This is your chance to contribute to the advancement of medicine!"
No, this wasn't a discussion...
What do you even call this?
Madness?
"Me!"
"Me!"
Of course, I was the only one who thought this was madness. Everyone else raised their hands, including my best friend Joseph and my dear senior Alfred.
'Don't do it... you lunatics... don't raise your hands!'