"What, what is this?"
Indeed, sailors.
During this era, sailors were the epitome of rough and rugged individuals.
The person walking ahead—the one with a rash on his palm—turned around abruptly when Liston called out to him.
Though unarmed, he still exuded a menacing aura.
It was only natural.
'As expected… he's not an easy one… Professor Liston doesn't seem like he'll lose, though.'
Steamships had already been developed.
To be precise, they were invented around the late 18th century.
However, that was merely a laboratory experiment, and their commercialization hadn't been around for long.
Even so, steamships still relied on sails due to the limited power of steam engines, or so I'd heard.
This meant that sailors still had to work when the wind blew.
Even if it was dawn.
"What's up with you? You wanna die?"
"Ugh… my head hurts…"
Moreover, their living conditions were abysmal.
Storing drinking water was always a challenge, so they often resorted to weak alcohol to get by.
This meant that while the threat of scurvy, as in the 17th and 18th centuries, was no longer a concern, sailing during this period still had its horrors.
Even diseases like malaria remained unconquered, making central Africa a place no one dared to venture into.
-If only we could go there, we'd make a fortune and gain immense fame.
Alfred's father had been subtly hinting at his expectations since the condom incident…
I'd heard malaria was the cause, but I had no idea how to treat it, so I kept my mouth shut.
"What's up with you? You got business with our mate?"
"You look too refined… you don't belong here, do you?"
"Hey, that guy in the back… he's got a watch?"
"Oh ho…"
Perhaps because they'd survived the harsh waves, their sense of camaraderie was no joke.
Even the sailors who had been walking far ahead came rushing over.
There were seven of them in total.
On our side, counting Professor Liston, me, Professor Blundell, Joseph, and Alfred, we were five…
But realistically, only Liston and Joseph could be considered combat-ready.
Blundell, Alfred, and I were hardly a match.
No, even Joseph was just a novice compared to these seasoned brutes.
So, it was essentially seven against one…
"Goodness. Who knew medical treatment could be this difficult."
Professor Liston, without a hint of tension, loosened the sword strapped to his back.
He didn't draw it, though.
I was slightly nervous, but thankfully, he just held the scabbard and surveyed the surroundings.
"I am Professor Liston. I've come to treat a syphilis patient… step aside."
And then he said something that was bound to fall on deaf ears.
Who would listen to such a demand while holding a sword…?
As expected, instead of stepping aside, the sailors grew furious.
"You lunatic."
"What sailor doesn't have syphilis?"
"Treatment? Stop talking nonsense. Killing people—is that your idea of treatment?"
Their anger was directed differently than I'd anticipated, but they were clearly enraged.
One peculiar thing was that the sailor who had called for backup was hesitantly stepping back.
'That bastard… he must've realized he's the one spreading it.'
He might not have noticed if it was just one or two people.
But how many had it been already?
Blundell had confirmed over ten cases, meaning there were likely dozens in London alone.
Some of them were married women, so they'd pass it to their husbands…
And given the morality of this era, the husbands would spread it further…
Essentially, this one guy had unleashed a pandemic-level disease across London.
"Hey, get him!"
"Ah… this treatment is really something."
That was my thought, but the sailors began charging.
Some even drew their swords.
I wondered if we should draw ours too, but at that moment, a loud bang echoed.
'Do they even have trucks in this era?'
I was pondering that when I finally noticed Liston.
He had just sent one man flying with the scabbard.
"Hey! Call the police!"
Some of the onlookers who had gathered ran off, while others began cheering.
It was worth cheering for…
'Wow… this guy. If he weren't a surgeon, he could've taken over London as a fighter.'
Already, three men were sprawled on the ground.
The remaining four hesitated, intimidated by his presence.
Seeing the situation turn sour, the original target also drew his sword.
Well, he drew it scabbard and all, prompting Liston to ask a question while gripping his own sword.
I dare say, no one looked as natural with a sword as Liston.
Born for it, and living with a sword in hand every day.
With the aura of a medieval knight, his voice boomed.
"Are you going to draw that?"
If you do.
I'll draw mine too.
Then you're dead.
That's what his tone seemed to imply.
"N-no, sir."
It wasn't just my imagination—the man quietly lowered his sword.
The remaining three fled without looking back.
They were already on edge, so this was a relief.
"Good. Come here."
"Y-yes, sir. But… syphilis… why…?"
"Why? Did you say why?"
Only after the situation was under control did Blundell step forward.
From his demeanor, you'd think he'd done something during the fight, but I knew he'd been hiding behind me the whole time.
I tried to step back but bumped into Blundell.
"Because of you, the number of patients is skyrocketing! Some of them are pregnant women, you beast!"
"Whoa, whoa. Why say such things here?"
Despite his earlier cowardice, he now acted like a fearless warrior.
Though his overall demeanor was more like an angry Chihuahua…
The syphilis patient, already intimidated by Liston, looked around in panic.
"Hey, over there!"
"They got Killian?"
"Who's that bastard?"
Just then, a commotion broke out as more sailors pushed through the crowd to rescue their comrade.
There were seven of them, but Liston, looking annoyed, drew his sword.
It felt wrong for a doctor to draw a sword with such an expression…
-Squeak.
At the same time, the police arrived.
"Stop! What the hell are you lunatics doing in broad daylight?"
They were more like soldiers than police, at least from my perspective as someone from Korea.
They had guns, after all.
I was already scared, even though I hadn't done anything wrong, but Professor Liston didn't flinch at the sight of the guns.
In fact, he chuckled.
"Look here. I'm the one who amputated the police chief's mother's leg."
"You crazy, vicious bastard!"
And yet, he had the audacity to say that.
He really was a crazy, vicious bastard.
"Wait, is that Professor Liston?"
"Liston? The one who performs surgeries in the square? Ah… that's right."
Surprisingly, his words started to have an effect.
"Ah… I heard the chief asked him to operate on his mother recently. I saw it. It's definitely him."
"Uh… then, what about these guys?"
"They're the troublemakers interfering with medical treatment."
At Liston's words, the police swiftly moved in and began beating the sailors who had just arrived.
"What should we do with this one?"
"I'm a syphilis patient…"
Amidst the chaos, Killian, who should've been beaten too, surprisingly confessed to being a syphilis patient and clung to Liston.
"Huh? Is that true? He's a patient?"
He looked more like an accomplice.
As this exchange unfolded, Professor Liston nodded.
"Yes, he's a patient."
"Is that so? You've had a tough time."
"Yeah, yeah. If anyone needs a limb amputated, let me know."
"Uh… sure. That's a bit odd, but… you mean amputating patients, right?"
"Of course. You can't just amputate anyone."
"Right, right. Very wise of you."
Thanks to that, the police took away the wrong people, leaving Killian untouched.
"What'll happen to them?"
I asked, worried that these uncivilized men might face the gallows, but Blundell laughed.
"No one's dead, so nothing serious. They'll probably just get a scolding and be released."
"Ah…"
Even though one of them had drawn a sword, they'd just get a scolding and be let go.
I thought they'd at least be locked up for a few days, but the leniency surprised me.
"Phew… we're safe."
Killian, who had been watching the scene, let out a sigh of relief.
Blundell, for whom it was someone else's problem, talked about them being released, but the police were terrifying, regardless of the era.
Especially now…
'They could kill you without a trace.'
They might even beat you to death out of spite.
It was an era where everything seemed modernized, yet barbarism still lingered.
The British Empire? Don't make me laugh.
Come live here.
It's a mess!
"You're sighing already?"
Liston, still holding the scabbard, spoke to Killian, who was sighing.
The weight of the moment was palpable.
"Uh…"
"Let's go. How many infected patients are there?"
"Over ten."
"Spreading an incurable disease like that—shouldn't he be executed?"
"Gasp."
A chilling conversation ensued.
Well, it was more like Liston speaking unilaterally.
Compared to Liston, Blundell was far more composed.
"No, execution? That's for the judges to decide… Besides, none of the patients are in a position to press charges. That's why we're here to catch him."
"Ah, right. So, what do we do?"
"We'll detain him for now. When does the ship leave?"
Blundell reassured Liston and turned to the patient.
It should've been a relief for him, but he looked troubled.
No, more than troubled—he remained silent for a long time.
"When does the ship leave?"
I couldn't stand it anymore and asked, prompting him to finally answer.
"I… I've retired."
Retired…
This clueless bastard.
Blundell sighed and asked, "Retired? Not going back to Ireland?"
"You live in London?"
"Yes. The ship… it's too much."
"Then can you swear not to see other women?"
"That's… that's difficult."
"Well, if I looked like you, I wouldn't want to either."
Blundell muttered, unsure what to do.
Liston, watching him, said, "We should just kill him."
"No, why does the doctor keep talking about killing people?"
"A lot of people have already died, haven't they?"
"Well… but still. We're doctors…"
"Then we should try to treat him. But there's no cure."
At Liston's words, Blundell sighed again.
Then, for some reason, he looked at me.
The problem was, when I came to my senses, Liston was also looking at me.
No, don't look at me. I can't do anything about syphilis either…
'Wait… is there really nothing we can do…?'