"This is quite fascinating."
Dr. Liston wore a satisfied expression on his face.
For me, who knew full well that he had just come from amputating someone's leg, the scene was slightly chilling. But I kept my composure and didn't let it show.
Besides, even I had to admit that the scene was intriguing, so I stayed quiet.
"It really… doesn't hurt anymore. Yes, my hand feels fine now!"
This was the so-called "rubber hand therapy."
It had been ten days since we started this oddly named treatment, and finally, our first successful case had emerged.
Of course, given the times, it could have been a lie.
But judging by the patient's expression, it didn't seem so.
Compared to the patient who had his arm amputated four times before being brought here by Seon-ui, this man looked as if he had just returned from heaven.
"So this treatment really works…?"
As a fellow human being, shouldn't I be happy for him? That's just human nature, right? But our self-proclaimed "head experts" were wearing expressions of discontent for some reason.
"Isn't this just a coincidence…?"
"I've heard that this kind of thing can heal on its own without treatment."
Not only that, but they were even spouting outrageous nonsense.
You idiots.
If it's a condition that can heal on its own, why did you amputate someone's hand without anesthesia?!
If that were the case, you should've just left it alone!
"We need to apply electricity."
Amidst this, our so-called "electricity doctor" was, as usual, spouting nonsense.
I don't know if he was an electric eel in his past life, but he was always obsessed with shocking people.
What a lunatic.
"No, no. In my experience… if we don't proceed with treatment, the condition rarely improves."
Fortunately, Liston was on our side.
The mighty medieval knight, Liston, shook his head and continued.
"So this treatment does work. The only problem is… the success rate is still a bit low. It should be at least 50%, don't you think?"
Fifty percent.
In other words, at least half of the patients should be cured. From a modern medical perspective, that's an absurdly low number.
But in this era, 50% was considered impressive.
After all, more people die from the treatment itself than actually get cured.
It's an incredibly low rate…
'I see. So it's about one in ten?'
The current success rate of this treatment was even lower than that, which was the real issue.
Of course, since I'm not entirely familiar with the treatment timeline, there's a chance it could improve over time.
But still…
'Even I can see that it's a bit crude.'
Attaching a rubber hand and then just rubbing it? It feels a bit off, doesn't it?
That said, I had no intention of resorting to more violent methods.
Our 19th-century doctors are trying their best to come up with more plausible treatments under the name of science.
But they end up causing a lot of accidents.
I'm supposed to be a university student, so I can't just let that slide.
That's why I've been agonizing over a better method.
"Dr. Pyeong, do you have any other opinions? I'm sorry, but you're the only one I can ask right now."
"Hmm…"
"If it's too difficult, maybe we could combine the rubber hand treatment with electricity…"
"That's worth considering. Now that I think about it, since it's a treatment to restart the brain… it might help restore sensation more effectively."
"If that's the case, we could also try bloodletting."
"Or spinning them around."
"Or even vibrating them!"
We needed to hurry.
If we didn't come up with a better solution quickly, these guys would probably start experimenting on patients again.
'I can't let those patients outside suffer like that.'
Even now, the hospital was packed to the brim.
An overwhelming number of patients had gathered.
Some were recent amputees, but there were also those who had been suffering for a long time.
Despite not having any significant treatment results yet, there was a reason why they were flocking here.
The rubber hand treatment we were currently conducting was one of the rare treatments in the hospital that didn't cause pain or lead to death.
It's a bit sad that this is what draws them in, but still.
"Alright! Until we unify our opinions… let's each treat the patients who come to us individually!"
The problem was that there were simply too many patients.
Dr. Liston and I couldn't handle them all alone.
Even at this very moment, amputations were being performed.
It wasn't a contagious disease, but patients kept pouring in as if it were.
Despite the rumors that amputating limbs caused pain, the fact that anesthesia was available gave them the courage to come.
'Ah…'
As we divided the workload, I realized this wasn't the right approach.
Some patients would end up sitting on electric chairs with rubber hands attached, having their blood drawn, being spun in centrifuges, or even having weights attached to their heads.
What kind of education did these doctors receive to come up with such wildly different and bizarre treatments?
It wasn't hard to see why.
Even here, it was the same.
Joseph, Alfred, and I tended to stick together, while Colin awkwardly tagged along. The others, however, were completely separate.
What they learned depended entirely on which professor they favored.
'Think, brain, think!'
Even after the others left, I continued to ponder intensely.
But it was no use.
I wasn't a neurologist or a psychiatrist—I was a surgeon.
It would've been easier if someone had just asked me to amputate another hand.
"Hey, Pyeong."
As I was deep in thought, Liston called out to me.
He looked cheerful.
"Yes?"
"At least one person has improved, so that's a good thing, right? Let's go grab a bite to eat."
"Ah… sure. Where to…?"
The hospital cafeteria?
There was no such thing.
We had to bring our own lunches, and since this was England, the food was notoriously bland.
The kind of food that makes you miss your mom's cooking, you know?
It wasn't just me—Joseph felt the same way.
Back in Upton, when we lived with our families, we could at least enjoy the delicious Korean meals my mom cooked.
"We've been making good money lately. Let's go get some meat."
"Oh."
Here, "meat" meant either beef or lamb.
When I first reincarnated, I thought that since England was an island nation, I'd be able to eat seafood to my heart's content. But surprisingly, these people were serious about their beef.
I heard that fishing near the North Sea was incredibly difficult.
Anyway, it was a good thing.
Beef… even if it's cooked by an Englishman, it's still edible.
"Oh… this is… a hotel, right?"
"That's right."
"Isn't this place really expensive…?"
"It's fine. I've got money."
We arrived at the hotel by carriage.
You might wonder what a hotel in the 19th century would be like, but this was the British Empire after all.
These guys had basic sewage systems, didn't they?
England in this era was far more advanced than our common perceptions might suggest.
"Huh."
When I looked at the menu, I was genuinely surprised.
The waiter who handed me the menu was also surprised to see an Asian like me, but not as much as I was.
Since we were in London, there were quite a few foreigners around hotels and such.
But this…
"The menu doesn't have prices, brother."
Since we were in a private setting, I called him "brother."
I called out to him urgently.
"Ah… right?"
Even though he knew, he acted as if he didn't. When I looked up, he had a very flustered expression.
This guy…
What's going on…?
"Well, it's fine. We have enough money for the two of us to eat. Besides…"
"Besides?"
"Do you think they'd try to scam me?"
"Ah."
Scam?
I was more worried about being robbed.
But hearing that last bit did make me feel more at ease.
It brought back a sense of calm.
Only then did I start to notice my surroundings.
Having lived in the 19th century for a while, I was starting to get tired of the old-fashioned decor, but the hotel was different.
It felt… luxurious.
"Oh."
"What?"
"That mirror over there. It reflects really well."
"Haha. Mirrors are quite popular these days."
The mirror at my senior's house was also made of glass, but it wasn't as clear as this one, so I found it quite fascinating.
As I was admiring it, another staff member came over and explained.
Apparently, I had been introduced as a noble from Joseon, a country known for its interest in new technologies.
"These days, we have even smaller mirrors than that. But porcelain and paintings are considered quite precious. Would you like to take a look?"
He had a look on his face that suggested he wanted me to buy something, but his excessive politeness made me feel a bit guilty.
Don't do that.
You're making me feel bad.
'Ah… if I sold condoms, could I become rich?'
My senior's father had offered me a fair contract, so I was set to receive a percentage of the net profits…
"No, let's just look around for now."
"Of course, my apologies."
Anyway, at Liston's words, the waiter stepped back, and soon the food arrived.
We hadn't just ordered meat—we'd ordered a variety of dishes—so I expected them to come out in courses, starting with appetizers. But instead, everything came out at once.
It felt like a full-course meal, not a Korean-style spread.
"Huh…?"
"What's wrong?"
Was this racial discrimination?
Or had they prepared the meal in the style of what I used to eat in Joseon? As I was pondering this, Liston was blinking in surprise.
He wasn't exactly a wealthy man, but he had been to places like this a few times, so his reaction suggested that this was the norm.
'But if you serve everything at once, the main dish will get cold…'
These Englishmen…
Do they really have no sense of taste?
I grumbled to myself as I chewed on the beef, which, aside from its basic flavor, had no other redeeming qualities.
At this point, it felt like God had cursed the English.
"Ah!"
"What… why do you keep doing that?"
I was thinking about curses when I happened to glance at the mirror and saw that the piece of meat I was about to chew was about to fall. I reached out to catch it.
I tried to catch the falling meat in the mirror.
"Sorry… huh?"
I was about to apologize for nearly spilling Liston's food when an idea flashed through my mind.
No, I was about to apologize.
If an idea hadn't crossed my mind at that moment, I would have.
But now…
This wasn't the time for that.
Since the food wasn't exactly transporting me to a state of bliss or making me think only about eating, it was easier to focus on the idea.
"What's wrong?"
It wasn't just me—Liston seemed to be in the same boat.
There's a saying that English food is designed to help you focus on the decor and conversation, right?
They were sticking to the basics here, so there was nothing distracting us from our conversation.
"The mirror… that thing."
I suggested using an optical illusion with the mirror.
Liston clapped his hands in agreement.
"Exactly! That would look much more like a real hand than the rubber hand!"