In an era where the police casually call to inform you they've killed someone—
That's the 19th century for you.
It was a bit unsettling, sure… but what could I do?
At least in this era, a tracheotomy was the only real way to secure an airway.
'Intubation… now that's a whole different beast.'
Back when I was at the university hospital, intubation was something I saw every single day.
You know, like in those medical dramas or movies—where they shove a plastic tube down an unconscious patient's throat during surgery or emergencies.
Sure, it was to maintain breathing, but sometimes it was also to prevent blood from the upper airway from clogging the trachea.
Well… when you think about it, it all comes down to keeping the airway open.
The reason it was commonly used was simple:
It was safer, and most importantly, it didn't require a knife.
'But… there were a few prerequisites for that.'
Now that I was here, I realized a few things.
To make it work, you needed a plastic tube—one that was flexible yet resilient enough not to collapse when the patient inhaled.
Maybe rubber could be processed into something like that, but…
That was a distant dream for now.
'And then there's the gag reflex… Laughing gas alone isn't enough to suppress it.'
Another major hurdle was the gag reflex.
Anyone who's been drunk might know this—stimulating the base of the tongue can trigger vomiting.
And intubation, by its very nature, inevitably triggers that reflex.
You're sticking something down the throat—how could you not touch the back of the tongue?
In the ICU, they'd knock patients out with sedatives, anesthetics, or powerful painkillers…
But in this godforsaken 19th century, all we had was laughing gas or opium.
Using such strong, dangerous drugs just to suppress the gag reflex?
No way.
'So… for now, tracheotomy is the only option.'
Compared to that, how was a tracheotomy?
Sure, it was invasive—you had to cut a hole in the neck—but at least it didn't trigger the gag reflex.
Of course, having a foreign object in your airway wasn't exactly comfortable, but…
Even in the 21st century, patients requiring long-term respiratory support often got tracheotomies. With enough anatomical knowledge and practice, it was actually easier than intubation.
'Right… so, steel yourself.'
I barely managed to justify it to myself like that.
Meanwhile, our proud 19th-century companions—completely devoid of guilt—were chatting away in the carriage.
"The police are in a bind since they can't hang them."
"Well, good riddance. They all deserve to die anyway."
Blundell and Liston were casually discussing someone's death.
Not exactly the kind of conversation you'd expect from doctors, but…
Since the policeman riding with us was nodding along, I figured my perspective must be the odd one out.
"Exactly. They deserve it. If their deaths can serve some purpose, even posthumously, wouldn't that be a good thing?"
No…
No, that doesn't sound right.
Did they even get consent?
Probably not.
"The problem is the poison. Sometimes it's too weak—what if they survive and end up in the hospital?"
"They're already condemned. Can't we just finish them off there?"
"Uh… Professor, that's a bit… For someone who isn't the executioner to just… dispatch another prisoner—"
"My apologies. Our Professor Liston here…"
"If no one finds out…"
"I just heard it, Professor. If that happens, I'd have no choice but to press charges."
The conversation…
Only spiraled further into madness.
What kind of lunatic—
Wait, what?
You'd just slit their throats?
Even as a joke, that was beyond inappropriate—yet here they were, saying it in front of a policeman.
Maybe my social circle was just too small…
Were all 19th-century people like this, or was it just these guys?
"In the end, it's best if we confirm it ourselves."
"Hmm."
"Why the long face? It's only natural for doctors to verify it!"
"It's not natural. It's not an easy thing to do."
"It is difficult, but…"
"Hmm."
They paused their conversation and looked at me.
More precisely, they alternated between looking at me and the stethoscope in my hand.
These bastards must think I'm some kind of Doraemon or something…
'Well… they're not entirely wrong, are they?'
From their perspective, they weren't entirely off the mark, so I didn't have much to say.
What could I do?
It was kinda true.
"I'll… figure something out."
"Good. We're counting on you."
I nodded, and Blundell added with eager eyes:
"Just in case, we'll have the police accompany us to the scene."
"Sigh."
Meanwhile, Liston muttered something unsettling, and the policeman—who clearly understood the subtext (if they're still alive, you finish them off)—let out a heavy sigh.
Despite the chaotic conversation, the carriage eventually arrived at its destination.
"Kill them!"
"Death to the wicked!"
The square.
It was a square.
From what I could see, 19th-century Brits had no right to criticize the Romans.
What's the difference between the Colosseum and this?
'Then again… when William Hare was executed last year, over 30,000 people showed up.'
Was it last year?
The guy who went from grave-robbing to straight-up producing corpses—
A serial killer who sold bodies to Dr. Knox.
No wonder the crowd was even more riled up.
But still, this was the kind of country we were in.
So today's frenzy wasn't all that surprising.
"Kill them!"
"Where's the gallows?!"
"Hang them!"
That said…
Was this really something to get this worked up over?
Coming from the 21st century—a far more civilized time—this was a bit much.
The police chief was trembling, so I thought maybe he felt the same way, but… apparently not.
"Today's execution will be carried out by poisoning!"
"Boooo!"
"Cut the crap!"
"Who'd you bribe?"
The moment the chief announced they'd be using poison instead of hanging, the crowd erupted in jeers.
So that's why he was shaking—he was terrified.
What's the difference between hanging and poison?
I didn't get it.
I glanced at Blundell, who shrugged and explained:
"Poison's… unreliable. Too many survive it. So accusations of bribery aren't unfounded."
"Ah…"
"There are quite a few cases of the wealthy faking their deaths and fleeing to Asian colonies to start anew. I've even gotten requests for that."
"Requests…?"
"Officially, executions by poison require a doctor to confirm death. But sometimes…"
"Ah, you mean declaring someone dead when they're still alive."
"Exactly. Of course, a man of integrity like myself would never engage in such practices."
"Sure, sure."
The way he said it made me think he'd probably done it at least once, but I decided to take his word for it.
Besides, the real problem was over there.
This…
This was about to turn into a full-blown riot.
"Now, now, calm down! It's true these men's crimes are heinous enough to warrant hanging. However! Dr. Liston, Dr. Pyeong—step forward, please."
I was thinking the chief needed to smooth things over when—
That madman suddenly redirected the crowd's fury toward us.
Liston, who should've deflected it, only laughed like a maniac and stepped forward.
"Fine. Let's give them a show."
"Wait… this could go wrong—"
"Hahaha! The police are here—what's the worst that could happen? Besides, the whole reason the execution method changed is because of us!"
"I mean, yeah, but do you have to say it so loud—"
Then he pointed at me and strode forward.
He even loudly declared that we were the reason for the change, drawing every eye in the square toward us.
Like dominoes, the crowd's attention shifted our way.
Thank God I was short.
If I were taller…
I'd have to bear and return all those stares.
"It's a perfectly justifiable reason! It's for saving lives!"
"Yeah, yeah. That's true, but… this is terrifying."
"Terrifying? They're just a herd of sheep."
"Uh…"
I'm weaker than those sheep, Professor.
Physically, maybe not, but…
These people looked like they'd eat anyone who crossed them.
"Come on, step up."
Trembling, I let Liston pull me forward until we stood before the chief.
Only then did I realize—
Oh.
Did someone just throw a tomato?
Was I so tense I didn't even notice getting hit?
"Heh."
Liston, who'd blocked it with his hand, was now wiping tomato pulp off his fingers.
The chief smirked and handed the microphone (so to speak) to us.
"You two have a perfectly valid reason, don't you? Given the nature of their crimes, it's quite fitting… Why don't you explain it yourselves?"
"Gladly."
And so, the two of us stood before the crowd.
From the back, I hadn't realized, but now that we were on the platform—
There had to be at least ten thousand people here.
And every single one was glaring at us with pure rage.
All because we'd chosen poison over hanging.
It was unfair, infuriating—but the only emotion I could muster was fear.
"What's with the yellow one?!"
"Another bribed lackey trying to smuggle them to Asia!"
"Obvious trick…"
Just looking at them was scary enough, but—
The things they were saying?
Even the great Liston would—
"Haha."
He laughed?
Had he lost his mind?
But then, with unshakable confidence, he began to speak.
"Those who know me, know me. I'm Dr. Liston. I'd wager there's at least a few here whose lives I've saved."
He was smooth.
Kinda like a snake-oil salesman, but the crowd was listening.
"Dr. Pyeong here is the man behind the anesthetic. I'm sure even more of you owe him your thanks."
He didn't forget to mention me, and the murmuring died down slightly.
Though some still grumbled, "So what?"
Then—
Liston grabbed the gang leader (one of the condemned) by the hair and yanked his head up.
"To save lives, we need anatomical knowledge. But that doesn't mean we should resort to grave-robbing—these scum exploited our noble cause! That
's why we'll be using their bodies for dissection! The reason we're not hanging them? So we can study their necks in detail!"
It was terrifying.
Even the gang leader, already sentenced to death, pissed himself on the spot.