It wasn't that I didn't understand what had happened.
After all, I was a doctor.
"Blood rushed to the lower body...
... A hypoperfusion-induced loss of consciousness occurred."
In such cases, memory was often lost as well.
In fact, the person might not even remember that they had fainted in the first place.
It was similar to how fighter pilots, when undergoing G-force training, often instinctively performed the Valsalva maneuver the moment they regained consciousness—even after already failing once.
Actually, I didn't even need that example. I had served as an air force military doctor and had been stationed at an aviation unit. I had undergone that very training myself.
"This can't be good for your health."
Could this possibly be beneficial?
Of course not.
No matter what, it meant that blood wasn't reaching the brain.
Even if it had only been for a short time, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that a minor stroke had just occurred.
"Damn… Wouldn't it be better to try a different treatment…?"
"Medicine in the 19th century is such a mess."
There had to be something better than this.
"Oh, well. At least my head doesn't hurt."
Meanwhile, Dr. Robert was sitting up.
He still looked a little dazed.
It was as if his headache had been forgotten by the introduction of another, greater pain.
"See? Works like a charm."
"Those fools who still practice bloodletting should watch and learn. This is what bloodletting can look like."
He chuckled alongside Dr. Thomas.
Laughing while criticizing other doctors.
Did they really have the right to do that?
"Go tell him, then. Jemel is the worst. That man is obsessed with bloodletting."
"Shall we? Since we're talking about it, we might as well stop by before heading out."
"Sounds good."
Perhaps because Dr. Robert was with us, the group wasn't just talking behind someone's back.
They were planning it outright.
Of course, they felt safe knowing that Jemel couldn't retaliate.
And they didn't consider my opinion much either.
Still, I was curious.
What kind of treatment did this Jemel use?
"He's French, isn't he?"
Why had he come all the way from France to England?
From what I had heard, he was supposedly quite renowned.
"That treatment back then…"
That bastard had once drained blood from a patient's abdomen for stomach pain.
So what would he do for a headache?
It didn't seem like it would be much different.
He would probably drain blood from the head.
"Sigh..."
I let out an involuntary sigh.
"What's wrong?"
Robert asked, his tone somewhat concerned.
"Is your head hurting? Don't worry."
Thomas also spoke up.
To be honest, my head did hurt.
Headaches were one of the most common symptoms in the world.
There were probably very few people who had never experienced one.
And in a stressful environment like mine, it was practically inevitable.
But still…
"There's no way I'm going in there."
I could endure it.
I had been trained for this.
There was no reason to go inside.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You look a bit pale."
"You do seem sick. If you go in, you'll feel better right away."
I barely managed to hold back from snapping at them and simply shook my head.
"I'm really fine."
"Well, if you insist."
"That's too bad. You'd feel better immediately."
Thankfully, even in the 21st century, there weren't any definitive diagnostic tools for headaches.
If there was an organic cause, sure, imaging tests could be done.
But otherwise, it was mostly a guessing game.
In this era, doctors had to rely entirely on what the patient said.
So as long as I insisted, they let it go.
"Headache, you say?"
"Yes."
As we approached Jemel's office, we heard a voice inside.
It seemed there was already a patient with a headache.
"Bring it over."
"W-What is that?"
For some reason, the patient's voice was trembling.
And the moment I stepped into the room, I understood why.
"What the hell is that?!"
Jemel was holding a bizarre instrument brought by his assistant.
It wasn't like the long acupuncture needles used in traditional Chinese medicine.
These were even thicker.
A whole bundle of them.
"Headaches happen because blood is concentrated in the head."
"Oh…?"
"So then…?"
"Oh, no. We don't stab directly into the head. We pierce the back of the foot."
"…What?"
"Lie down."
"Uh… Is there no anesthesia? I heard there's anesthesia nowadays."
"Why would you need anesthesia for something like this?"
"W-Wait! Wait—!"
The assistants swiftly laid the patient down on a filthy, short examination table.
His feet stuck out from the end.
"Uuugh!"
As soon as they restrained him, they pinned him down.
It looked more like a scene from a torture chamber.
At that moment, Thomas interjected.
"Stop messing around and just let him use my machine."
I unconsciously nodded.
A moment ago, that device had seemed crude and primitive.
But now, compared to this, it was the pinnacle of advanced medicine.
However, Jemel's expression remained sullen.
"Your machine has killed more than one patient."
He countered with death itself.
Wait. Earlier, he said only one person had died.
Now it's more than one?
I turned to Thomas with a sense of betrayal.
He simply looked unbothered.
"You've killed more than one patient too."
"They were already doomed. A healthy person wouldn't die just from losing a little blood."
"That may be true, but don't you think it increases the odds?"
"I don't."
Now that I thought about it, both of them had killed patients.
No wonder neither of them seemed outraged at the accusation.
They were completely unfazed.
Stab.
In that moment, Jemel plunged the thick needles into the patient's heel.
"Gaaah!"
A sharp scream filled the room.
Blood began to trickle out.
Thankfully, it seemed like he hadn't hit a major blood vessel.
"How's your headache now?"
"I-I… I don't know yet."
The patient, stubborn or perhaps simply honest, only said he wasn't sure.
"Is that so?"
Jemel's expression hardened.
I followed his gaze.
…Was he reaching for a knife?
At this point, I wasn't even scared anymore—just dumbfounded.
He was actually considering cutting something open for a simple headache.
"This lunatic..."
"At this point, wouldn't using the machine be better?"
"Dr. Robert… You're not one to talk."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, never mind."
Dr. Robert let it go, and Jemel, after glaring for a moment, averted his eyes.
Blood dripped into a bucket on the floor.
"…Not enough blood."
Muttering like a vampire, he reached for the knife.
"Unbelievable."
I thought Dr. Robert or Thomas would stop him.
But instead, they just turned away.
"How long are they going to keep doing this backward treatment?"
Thomas sighed.
"Aren't you going to stop him? He's about to kill someone!"
But what could I do?
I had no choice but to leave with them.
"Uaaaaahhh!"
As we walked down the hall, another scream rang out.
Robert turned to me.
"Curious?"
"Huh?"
"Curious about where he'll cut next?"
"Oh… Uh, yes."
"Well, my machine isn't perfect either. It's hard to cure chronic headaches that way."
His words made Thomas f
linch, but he didn't dare argue.
I suddenly regretted not having appreciated modern medicine more.
"Human life is incredibly resilient, huh?"