Surprisingly, the students were enthusiastic about having their teeth extracted. Besides my friends Joseph and Alfred, others were also raising their hands with eager expressions. Dr. Robert Liston watched them with a satisfied smile. For me, however, it was a horrifying sight. I felt psychologically distant, as if I were light-years away from them.
"Good heavens... A professor asking students to volunteer for tooth extraction, and the students actually cheering for such a ridiculous request? This place truly feels like another world... Well, I guess that's the more natural assumption."
If I ever gained more strength and money, I thought I should actively investigate this place. No matter how I looked at it, this seemed like Earth-10298 or something. The 19th century I knew couldn't possibly be like this.
"Alright, then come on out. Let's settle this like men."
While I was lost in thought, things were moving along smoothly. Already, more than ten students had gathered, buzzing with excitement. In the midst of it all, Dr. Liston proposed a "manly contest" of wrestling.
"How about it? It's not like we're punching each other, so there's little risk of serious injury."
Professor... Isn't that just because you're the professor? Shouldn't we hear what the other side has to say?
'Wrestling...? Doesn't that just look like it'll hurt? Or not?'
But upon reflection, the wrestling I'd seen in the Olympics did seem like a sport purely about strength and technique.
"Alright, let's do it."
Of course, that thought vanished shortly after.
"Uh."
"Ugh."
This madman is kicking with his feet. Isn't this wrestling...? Huh? Attacking the legs? Even though I'm not well-versed in sports, I know wrestling isn't supposed to be like that.
'Isn't that a foul?' I looked at Robert Liston with that expression, but he just seemed amused. It was as if he couldn't tell the difference between wrestling and a street brawl.
"Ugh! I won!"
But that wasn't the urgent matter. Joseph, my friend who's over 176 cm tall and was somewhat of a fighter back in Upton, was roaring in victory. Had he forgotten that the prize for winning was having a tooth extracted?
"Hey, hey."
So, while the others were busy with their matches, I went over to talk to him.
"Huh? What?"
His eyes were bloodshot, still caught up in the excitement of the fight. It was a bit scary, even though he's my friend. And for good reason—I'm just average height, and I've seen him fight quite a bit. If he'd been born in the Middle Ages, he might have earned a place under Sir Robert Liston.
"Why are you so eager to have your tooth pulled? What's so glorious about that?"
"It's contributing to the advancement of medicine."
Contributing...? Do you really have to get hurt to contribute?
I sighed.
"In Joseon, there's a saying called 'O-bok' (Five Blessings)."
Ancestors, I'm sorry. Just this once—no, I can't promise it'll only be once, so I'll sell this idea a bit more. It's not with bad intentions, so it should be fine, right?
"O-bok?"
"Yeah. Teeth are part of it."
Well, technically, they were part of it, then removed.
The nobility didn't seem to care much about that sort of thing anyway. Besides, no one here would know, so what does it matter?
"Hmm... So O-bok is a good thing?"
"Of course. It's the five blessings in life. So, in short... teeth are incredibly important."
"Isn't that just how they see it in Joseon?"
No, you fool. Teeth are important. Even in 19th-century England, which might not be a 100-year lifespan era, someone like Joseph, who's well-off, could easily live to 60. No, honestly, with me around, he could live much longer. Why? Because, aside from cancer, infectious diseases could be avoided in this era. So, how important are teeth?
"But... you know, in Joseon, we don't just say things for no reason. Even handwashing was adopted, and look—the death rate dropped significantly."
"That's true. Hmm..."
"Besides, even if laughing gas makes surgery possible... honestly, it's Dr. Liston who'll become famous, not the guy who got his tooth pulled."
When has the test subject ever become famous in an experiment? That's just not how it works.
It was absurd.
"Is that so...?"
"That's right. Oh, by the way, Alfred got eliminated."
I thought I'd have to convince Alfred next, but it turned out I didn't need to. Colin, who I'd beaten up yesterday, showed up late and, in a fit of rage, pushed aside his senior of one year to take his place. Then he glared at me, but I could handle that much. He was just glaring, but I'd really laid into him yesterday. Thanks to the gas, I couldn't remember exactly how much, but I must have hit him at least a hundred times. The evidence was all over his face and head, covered in wounds.
"Then... should I not do it?"
"Yeah, don't do it. Just watch. Why risk your life for something like this? There's so much more to do in the future."
"Alright... If you say so, I'll listen."
Good. Joseph gave up. Dr. Liston expressed disappointment, but with so many others still willing, he didn't seem too concerned.
"Ugh! I won!"
The one who emerged victorious—or rather, the one who won the "prize" of having a tooth extracted—was, surprisingly, Colin. He was about my size but seemed like a tough guy. Or maybe everyone secretly knew that having a tooth pulled wasn't such a great thing.
"Ah... What a shame."
"I'm so frustrated!"
But it didn't seem like that was the case. The idiots were all genuinely disappointed.
Anyway, Colin, who had won the contest, lay down on the lecture hall podium. Dr. Liston was holding what looked like a pair of pliers he'd gotten from somewhere. The look on his face and the shape of the tool...
'Is this... torture?'
It seemed like if he just said the word, it would all go up in flames. Burn! Speak! Who knows what secrets might come out?
The atmosphere was tense, but it seemed like it was only me who felt that way. The others were clapping and cheering as if it were a festival.
"Wow! Colin!"
"Breathe in the gas!"
"Open it quickly!"
Colin, lying down, shouted with veins bulging in his neck. In response, Dr. Liston, looking like a gladiator from the Colosseum, solemnly opened the gas canister and held it to Colin's face.
"Inhale... Hah."
Colin, with a serious expression, inhaled the gas. After repeating this a few times—inhaling more than during the party—Colin's face began to look strange. His eyes grew hazy, and drool started dripping from his mouth. It was the same face I'd seen yesterday. He wouldn't even feel it if he got hit.
"Ah, try it. Uh, stay still!"
Then, suddenly, Colin started having a fit. No, he started laughing uncontrollably.
'Stage 4... No, stage 2 of 4. Is that delusion? Or a seizure?'
The others watched without much thought. They didn't know any better. Even Dr. Liston was the same. This was an era where there was no concept of observing reactions to medication. But I, having been exposed to modern medicine, couldn't just stand there ignorantly.
'Now, next comes anesthesia... Then respiratory arrest.'
According to Humphry Davy's records, isn't that how it goes? If this were published in a reputable journal, I'd believe it. But this was the 19th century. I had to see it for myself to be sure. So, I watched with a tense expression. Even though he's a jerk, I didn't want him to die from respiratory arrest.
'If this works as anesthesia, it could be used for surgery in the future. He can't die.'
There were several reasons.
First, as a doctor, I couldn't just watch someone die in front of me. Besides, if this went wrong, anesthesia itself might be doomed.
'...'
If it came to it, I'd have to perform a tracheotomy. The problem was, there were no plastic tubes here. So, I'd have to cut. I wasn't unconfident about performing a tracheotomy, but how would I explain it?
"Stay still, you!"
At that moment, Dr. Liston struck Colin, who was in the delusional stage—the second stage of nitrous oxide.
"Ugh."
"Oh, it's done."
Colin then became quiet, as if he'd fainted. But that's not supposed to happen, right? Knocking someone out to move to the next stage...
"He's not unconscious. His eyes are open."
"Oh."
Worried, I went closer and saw that his eyes were indeed open. He was breathing steadily. He definitely wasn't unconscious.
'Did he hit him to move to the next stage...?'
I looked at Robert Liston with a mix of fear and newfound respect. Liston, seeing my expression, said:
"Watch closely. This is the moment when your idea becomes reality—or not."
"Right, right. I'll open his mouth for you."
"Good."
I was scared of his eyes and the tool, so I decided to just look inside Colin's mouth while holding it open as wide as possible. Given his personality, if he couldn't see well, he'd probably just yank out a front tooth. I'd once seen a doctor who'd lost a front tooth by chance, and he looked almost ready to retire, so foolish did he seem. This guy wasn't a good person, but I didn't think he deserved to have his life ruined, so I showed some mercy.
"Open wider. I can't pull a front tooth like this."
In the end, that worry was unfounded. Though he was a madman willing to pull a student's tooth, he wasn't the type to pull a front tooth. Just as I was thinking I'd prefer if he only did one or the other, the tool went straight into Colin's mouth. I thought he'd at least pull a loose tooth, but he went straight for a molar.
*Creak.*
The force was so strong that it seemed the molar would break before it came out.
*Pop.*
Then, with one more forceful tug, the tooth came out. Blood gushed out. It was a healthy tooth. A tooth that could have lasted decades.
"Does it hurt?"
"Huh?"
"Oh."
Despite the tragedy, Liston laughed. It was because Colin really didn't feel any pain. No, he wasn't just not in pain—he was completely unresponsive. It was a miracle.
"Oh!"
At that moment, Liston suddenly knelt and looked up at the sky. He clasped his hands together, dropping the tool and the tooth, which clattered to the floor. In the midst of the noise, Liston began to pray.
"Thank you, God... Finally, the patients are freed from pain."
The scene was anything but beautiful. Colin, bleeding profusely, the tool and bloodied tooth rolling on the floor, and Liston, who looked more like a butcher than a doctor. Yet, I felt a strange sense of sacredness.
'This man... He's truly a great doctor.'
He didn't know any better. It wasn't intentional. He was truly a man who cared for his patients. And for that, I was grateful.
'If I'm under him, I'll be able to do something.'