The power of the state is truly frightening, I thought.
Once the police, and what's more, the Police Commissioner himself, stepped in proactively, many things were resolved.
First, the matter of blood selling, that is, selling blood, was like that.
"It's almost impossible to push back the swarming crowds."
"No, we told them to come when the blood was needed, so why are they all like this..."
"Well... I guess they would be, since they're on the verge of starving to death."
"How can we draw and use blood from someone like that..."
Just as Blundell had said, the place was packed with people wanting to sell their blood.
"Step back!"
"Do you all have a death wish?!"
If the police hadn't been out there, we might have been swept up in that crowd and ended up needing transfusions ourselves.
That's how many people came to sell blood.
The surprising thing was that they were maintaining a semblance of order.
They had assigned days based on the street, and the people here now were supposedly only those assigned to Monday.
'The blood price too... I heard they drove a hard bargain...'
As you all probably know, I'm a truly kind person.
Not because I received a 21st-century education, but because I genuinely am—enough to become a doctor and, among many departments, choose to work in a Severe Trauma Center.
So, I was thinking of buying the blood at a slightly higher price for our poor London working class.
It's not like I don't have the money. I do.
Since I kept getting entangled with nobles, things turned out this way, so I also had thoughts of being charitable, you see.
-Huh? Didn't you just say blood is produced naturally?
But then, the police stepped in, and everything turned upside down.
No, it wasn't just that.
-Haha, Lord Physician. Does it make sense that selling blood once lets you laze around for a month? We said resting for a day or two is enough, right? Then, we can just pay them for two days' worth.
Our...
Alfred's father also stepped in.
Well, if it were to be commercialized, could I give it to someone else?
Of course, it's right to give it to Alfred's father, but he said something like that.
-Right. It's you, after all. Is it because you're Condom's father...? You have great business acumen.
Sir Jamie agreed, and the police said it was good too.
Even older brother Liston said it should work, so what could I say?
Well...
Still, I thought it was something that they were even offering two days' wages.
In London, it's commonplace to work and not get paid.
Maybe that's why.
Even with those conditions, it's such a huge success.
"Everyone, get out of here!"
"Eek!"
I heard something like an explosion and turned around; it was Liston.
He had punched the wall, performing the trick of not his fist, but the wall, exploding.
Then, those terrifying police officers went ballistic, but the people who hadn't budged an inch before scattered like leaves.
Liston, as expected.
Sword Master...
"Anyway."
He broke the wall like that, came back, and sat down.
Not in his own seat, but in the seat of another obstetrics professor, not Blundell.
There are three of us here, so there are three seats: one for me, another for Blundell, and now the last one was taken by Liston.
Yet, no one questioned why he was sitting so naturally in the obstetrics ward.
They just glanced at him briefly and went outside with faces that seemed worried about making eye contact.
In that quiet atmosphere, Liston continued speaking.
"They say the military is introducing this too. Matching blood... Haha, it's a truly incredible idea."
"I see. My goodness..."
"But are you alright with this? Well, Alfred's father will probably handle it generously enough, but this business right seems like it's not just any ordinary, huge venture."
"Well..."
I wonder, is it that big?
If it were the business rights for blood transfusions after proper equipment, meaning refrigerators for storing blood, were developed, it would indeed be a massive interest.
But right now...
Well, the amount the patient pays would be quite large, but even so, it's not something you can just do haphazardly, is it?
-Blood? Receive someone else's blood? H-heretic!
First of all, not every patient wanted it.
They might be making a fuss now, but when faced with actual death, their story might change...
Anyway, some people rejected it, and technically, transfusing large amounts of blood was difficult.
Moreover, I'm terrible at this kind of thing.
I believe there are specific people suited for business.
"Senior Alfred will handle it well."
"You're warm towards your own people, as expected."
"It's not that, I'm warm to other people too."
"Hahahahaha!"
Liston laughed heartily as if he'd heard a great joke.
Then, his face turned serious again.
It was understandable.
I think I know why he's like that.
Earlier... Sir Jamie said something, and it seemed like a fairly serious matter had occurred.
"Actually, in a way, didn't this happen like this thanks to Sir Jamie? Of course... even so, the sewer problem is progressing very slowly... This blood transfusion. I have high hopes for it. If this is properly established, perhaps patients will no longer die due to surgery!"
Ah, that's not it.
Blood transfusion is truly revolutionary.
It's humanity's greatest weapon to delay or reverse death from hemorrhage as much as possible.
But even in the 21st century, where we used it to the level of pumping in blood packs, we couldn't always save everyone.
At this current level?
No way.
But I'm a tactful person, so I didn't say anything contradictory in this moment where even Blundell, though he didn't say it, was happy.
Instead, I changed the subject.
"Sir Jamie said his urine is bothering him again, right?"
"Yes. What in the world is this... Just between us, he's a man who even had his balls cut off because of urine problems. But... Rumor has it he's ready to dig up and burn Harry's grave or something."
That's understandable.
He even cut off his balls, and his urine is acting up again?
Killing someone because of a surgery you chose to have, or digging up someone's grave because your urine is uncomfortable again... It's not something that should be done.
But emotionally, I can understand.
He must be furious... to an extent that's hard to imagine.
'But that's strange.'
One thing I don't understand is the recurrence itself.
Actually...
It's a truly terrible thing for me to say this, but didn't he undergo a surgery that aimed for a complete cure for benign prostatic hyperplasia?
Castration is a treatment that helps resolve many diseases.
But it recurred?
'What is it...?'
My head tilted on its own.
If his prostate grew back...
Then Harry died unjustly.
Because it would mean that bastard removed something other than the testicles.
It would mean male hormones are still being produced somewhere.
But based on Sir Jamie's recent appearance I've seen... he is the very picture of someone who has lost their male hormones.
I've been seeing him periodically over time, unintentionally, and during that time, his beard has been steadily falling out and his muscles have been wasting away.
Even his voice has become somewhat thinner.
But for only the prostate to grow large again... no matter how I think about it, it doesn't make sense.
"Are you having some unpleasant thoughts again?"
"Huh? No, not at all. Just worried about the patient."
"Then why are you smiling?"
"Well."
It is kind of funny, isn't it?
A man who cut off his own balls.
And a Duke, at that.
"Don't laugh in front of His Grace the Duke. He's been particularly sensitive lately."
"Ah, of course. Have I ever laughed in front of a patient?"
"Don't you laugh sinisterly even while handling corpses...?"
"Me?"
"Seems you weren't even conscious of doing it. I thought you were doing it to scare people."
Liston slightly leaned away from me.
Just as I was feeling increasingly wronged, Sir Jamie arrived at the hospital.
Actually, it was rare for someone of such high status to come to the hospital.
It's a world where house calls are the norm.
And realistically, that would have been fine too.
What does this era's hospital have...
There's no special equipment, facilities, or personnel, you know.
But I was gradually acquiring more surgical instruments, transfusion equipment, and so on.
By now, if I wanted to make a house call, especially without any prior information, I'd need to set up a moving company.
"Hmm, you're all gathered here."
Fortunately, Sir Jamie was understanding of my situation, which is why he came here.
I wondered why two people were coming, and it turned out Sir Damian was with him.
"I heard, and it seems my son has similar symptoms, you see."
He told me before I could even ask what was wrong.
Indeed, high-status people are somehow different.
Perhaps the seed of kings and nobles is truly separate?
To think that scum like Harry and someone like this are the same species...
Well, first of all, the French are definitely inferior, right?
"What are the symptoms?"
As these thoughts linked one after another, I made an effort to ask the patients this question.
"I keep feeling the urge to urinate."
It was Sir Jamie who answered.
He was frowning intensely.
Of course.
If he needlessly cut off his balls...
On top of the injustice, if rumors spread, what would happen to his dignity?
He barely managed to debut in high society by showing off his green clothes...
Ah, that green, arsenic...
'Those damn bastards are still wearing it, I heard?'
Sir Jamie, who actually saw people dying from it, gave it up, but it seems others couldn't let go.
Well, if more people die, they'll have no choice.
Anyway, there were quite a few guards posted outside, ensuring the rumor absolutely wouldn't leak.
"How is the volume of urine?"
I asked, hoping dearly it wasn't a recurrence of BPH.
Then, Sir Jamie tilted his head and answered.
"That's the strange thing. It's a lot. It wasn't like this before."
"A lot?"
"Yes. A lot comes out."
As I watched Sir Jamie answer like that, a thought suddenly occurred to me.
Sir Jamie is old.
His male hormones are gone.
He eats well.
Then, one of the diseases that can easily occur...
"By any chance, is your mouth often dry?"
"Well, since I pee a lot, it does get dry."
Surprisingly, these people weren't unaware of the connection between drinking water and urine volume.
In fact, what he said isn't particularly wrong right now.
For a normal adult without disease, it's correct that you feel the urge because you drank a lot, but it's different if you have diabetes.
There's sugar in the urine, which pulls water into it, so you feel the urge frequently, and because water is lost through urine like that, your mouth gets dry.
"There's one disease I suspect. But just in case, shall we measure the size of your prostate?"
"Ah."
Sir Jamie closed his eyes tightly, thinking the inevitable had come.
He must dislike it.
No matter how much he dislikes it, could he dislike it as much as I do?
Anyway, I performed a digital rectal exam.
'It's small... Castration really does improve it. If I have a recurrence, should I fully explain and get castrated too?'
The effect is truly good.
It's so great that 21st-century medications or treatments would put it to shame.
Anyway, I learned that the prostate wasn't the culprit for the urinary issues.
Then it must be diabetes.
'How do I diagnose diabetes?'
Blood sugar levels...
You just poke firmly with a needle and it comes right out, but here, only blood would come out.
'Diabetes... sugar in the urine, that's it.'
Then, wouldn't it taste sweet?
'Should I taste it?'
No.
Without realizing it, I found myself looking at Senior Alfred.