The Black-Haired British Doctor

The anatomy written on the slightly damaged blackboard was unexpectedly... quite convincing.

I was genuinely surprised.

'Especially... the knowledge of limbs is quite impressive.'

Was it because he was always cutting them?

The anatomy of the arm and leg was at a high level.

To be fair, limb anatomy was the easiest part.

There were no internal organs involved.

It was just muscle, bone, and ligaments.

But considering everything I had seen so far had been so shocking, the fact that this professor possessed this much knowledge was astonishing to me.

"Alright, today was just an overview. Now, let's move to the dissection lab."

"Yes, Professor!"

After talking non-stop for almost two hours without a break, Dr. Robert Liston headed straight to the dissection lab.

'By 21st-century standards, aren't we... just pre-med students?'

A pre-med student doing dissection practice?

What kind of insane pace was this?

'Good.'

There was no time for complaints.

Of course, there wasn't.

All I could think about was becoming a doctor as soon as possible and enlightening this primitive era.

It wasn't out of a sense of superiority.

This era's medical knowledge was simply too inadequate.

"Alright, come in."

"Ugh."

"Ugh."

Even the dissection lab itself was ridiculous.

Where in the world do people enter a dissection lab wearing their regular clothes?

With this kind of stench?

Were they incapable of thinking even at a basic level?

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, yes."

Of course, I couldn't say this out loud.

That was just how society was here.

And, more importantly, Dr. Robert Liston was terrifying.

If I refused to go in, what would happen?

Would I die?

'No... No. If we do this barehanded... we'll die too.'

As I approached the other medical students, who had enrolled a year or two before us, following Dr. Liston, I instinctively knew.

A cadaver left exposed like this could breed all kinds of bacteria, and if we got infected, we'd die.

There were no antibiotics, not even proper disinfection in this era.

The fact that people had survived so far—especially Dr. Liston—was purely a matter of luck.

"You all just watch for now. Making the first incision is trickier than it looks."

The one fortunate thing was that we wouldn't have to touch the cadaver today.

"Now, this is the leg. This is the body part we'll be operating on most frequently. You saw earlier, right? We'll be cutting this thigh like this."

Even the senior medical students didn't get to practice today.

Dr. Liston pressed down hard on the thigh with one hand while slashing through flesh and muscle with a single stroke using the other.

Madness.

Even if it was a cadaver, the tissue shouldn't be that easy to cut through.

"I can amputate a living person in thirty seconds. You all should never take longer than five minutes, or else the patient will die..."

Looking around, I saw the others were all shocked by Dr. Liston's uncanny knife skills.

Joseph, meanwhile, was mumbling again, "I want to be like that."

I was the only one shocked for a different reason.

Creak—

The door opened.

Given the location, it gave me a chill.

"Professor, we have a patient."

However, the person who entered was familiar.

I didn't know his name, but he was Dr. Liston's assistant.

"Really? Let's go, then."

At the mention of a patient, Dr. Liston casually grabbed the very scalpel he had just used and followed the assistant.

-At least clean that!

I wanted to shout, but...

Dr. Liston was huge.

And, more importantly, he was holding a knife.

Seeing him slice someone else with it was one thing, but getting cut myself?

'The only way to change all of this is for me to become an influential doctor and reform everything.'

For now, I had no choice.

It wasn't like I was some high-ranking noble.

At best, I was just a strange-looking guy from the East.

I was only here because of the Lister family's favor and Dr. Liston's peculiar tolerance.

Risking his wrath?

That was out of the question.

"What are you standing around for? Follow me!"

As I was lost in thought, the assistant barked at us.

'Oh... So we're going too?'

Apparently, not only was there no pre-med phase, but we could also immediately start clinical practice.

Well, it made sense.

Medical schools had only been around for a short time, so having a structured curriculum was the real oddity.

In Upton, even non-doctors—people who seemed completely unqualified—were treating patients.

If that was happening in a town so close to London, what about other places?

Across all of Britain, the proportion of patient-treating individuals who had even attended medical school was likely minuscule.

"Ah, it's your first time here, isn't it?"

As we followed along, we quickly arrived at the hospital.

It was practically attached to the medical school.

"Ah, yes."

The assistant spoke to Joseph in a friendly tone.

It seemed he knew Joseph came from a wealthy family.

Which, of course, was obvious.

He had paid a fortune to get in.

"There are so many patients in London that the hospital is always full. It's tough for them, but for us, it's a great learning opportunity."

"Oh..."

The assistant pointed to various areas of the hospital with excitement in his eyes.

Each room had at least ten to twenty patients.

Even a six-bed room can feel crowded.

A single room holding more than twenty patients?

As we passed through, I noticed a man clutching his stomach in obvious agony.

He hadn't been diagnosed yet, but it was clear—he needed surgery.

A surgeon's intuition?

Not really.

It was just obvious to anyone with eyes.

"Ugh, aaaghhh!"

"Hey, Professor—"

"I'm not a professor. Just an assistant, under Dr. Liston."

So, I called the assistant.

I knew he wasn't a professor.

But I called him one on purpose.

People liked it when they were addressed with a higher title.

Especially when they were still just someone's subordinate.

I knew this because when I was a fellow, being called "professor" always made me feel good.

'He's smiling.'

Sure enough, a smile crept onto the assistant's face.

"Yes, assistant. That man over there... he's in terrible pain. Is he okay?"

"Hmm? Where? Oh, there? That's not a surgical case."

"Huh...?"

Not a surgical case?

The man was writhing on the floor, clutching his stomach.

He was going to die soon.

The assistant must have read my expression because he casually said,

"They'll treat him later. Even if you two are surgery hopefuls, you're still students, so no one will mind if you observe."

"Oh..."

"Go take a look. Professor Jemel from Paris is in charge there. He's one of the properly trained ones."

"Ah, Paris..."

Paris, huh?

London was already in this state.

I couldn't imagine Paris being any cleaner.

Either way, I had no expectations.

And so, I followed Dr. Liston to the hospital courtyard.

Not because that was the plan—just because we ended up there.

'Damn it.'

The assistant spoke again, seeing my confusion.

"You two are lucky. Amputation surgeries aren't usually this common... Ah, you remember that patient you saw before?"

Please, don't talk about people who probably died.

I'd just get depressed.

I became a doctor to save people.

And I even became a professor so I could save more.

"He's alive, and since then, patients have been flocking to Dr. Liston."

"What? He survived?"

"Yeah, he made it. Good news, right?"

He survived?

Even after being forced to drink alcohol and having his leg cut with a filthy knife?

"Where... Where is he?"

"Probably at home somewhere nearby. Why?"

"I was wondering if I could visit him."

Just how strong did a human have to be to endure that?