Chapter 34

Chapter 34. Whose Corpse Is This? (3)

Splash.

The heart successfully landed in the glass bottle.

Though I’m not sure how long it will last preserved in alcohol, should I start separating and storing the other organs too? If left as is, they’ll all spoil.

“Wrap it up.”

Istina gazed off into the distance.

“I’ve never dissected a person before.”

“Really?”

“Typically, we don’t go this far. Only an extremely small number of healers perform surgeries anyway, and most operations end in failure… so some might wonder if it’s even worth opening them up…”

“It’s not impossible.”

This is a world with magic after all.

The operating rooms and equipment from my past life were full of wonders, but they lacked magic. Surgery still ultimately involves cutting people open with knives.

I think I mentioned something similar before.

“You don’t know this, Professor, but there was once a saying: ‘The torso and head will forever remain mysterious realms to any sensible surgeon.’”

That sounds familiar from medical history. In the past, surgeries on the abdominal or thoracic cavities—and especially brain surgery—rarely resulted in survival.

“It’s true that surgeries are difficult, but not impossible. With proper contamination control, you can survive internal procedures.”

“To be honest, I thought the patient would die when I removed their spleen. Who would’ve guessed they’d survive after we opened the abdomen and took out an organ…”

Surgery always works like that. The results can never be guaranteed, but since we saved this one, that’s good enough. Everything else doesn’t matter.

“What matters most to doctors is the result.”

“Oh, I had another question. Is the spleen normally an organ you can live without?”

It probably is. The spleen helps immune cells, filters infections from the blood, and removes old red blood cells.

Of course, its role in cleaning the blood cannot be ignored, but most of its functions can be compensated by other organs.

There is a difference though—removing the spleen weakens the immune system somewhat. There are also essential vaccinations required post-splenectomy, but I consider that less important.

“You can live without it. Typically, if the spleen ruptures, the entire thing is removed.”

“I see.”

Istina reached for her notebook but quickly pulled back. Blood-stained gloves shouldn’t touch anything.

Clearly, she lacks experience.

Anyway, the heart has been preserved, and now decisions need to be made about the other organs.

“Istina, what should we do with this?”

“What do you plan to do with the corpse?”

“I was thinking about taking some more organs.”

She shook her head this time.

“Well… isn’t that a bit much? This person was human too. It feels wasteful to just throw them away, but chopping up and preserving a body seems inappropriate.”

True. I nodded.

Just because someone is dead doesn’t mean ethical concerns disappear. This person likely never agreed to have their body used for research. Istina’s point is valid.

We need to respect boundaries.

“Let’s stop here then.”

“What about the robe?”

“We’ll take it back to the lab and clean it.”

Blood-soaked items aren’t easy to dispose of.

We carefully gathered the remains, placing them back into the salt-soaked shroud used during the autopsy. We cleaned and stored the tools used for dissection.

***

It’s already dawn. We didn’t spend that long in the basement, yet here we are.

With our masks loosely hanging around our necks, we exited the underground dungeon.

“Whoa, holy crap, you scared me!”

What a jump!

Turns out it was just the night guard. I gave a casual greeting.

“Good work.”

His face looked like he’d seen a ghost. Istina hid behind me—well, technically, she was hiding the glass jar containing the human heart.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, Professor Asterix.”

“There’s blood all over your hands and clothes.”

“There was… a reason for that.”

Ah. Now that I think about it…

The guard’s gaze towards me is strange. If I saw someone dressed head-to-toe in black at 2 AM outside a dungeon, I’d be scared too.

Wait, the black clothes aren’t the issue. My hands and clothes are completely soaked in dried, water-streaked blood clots. Passing by, anyone could mistake me for a serial killer.

“Did you kill someone?”

“No.”

“So, what were you doing?”

How should I answer without causing trouble?

If I say I was dissecting a corpse brought from the execution grounds… would they arrest me? Probably best not to brag about this.

I decided to dodge the question.

“Uh, conducting experiments.”

“For what kind of experiment…?”

“Nothing special.”

The body is wrapped in a shroud with salt, locked inside a cabinet. Should be fine, right?

The suspicious look didn’t fade easily. I awkwardly greeted him again before hurrying back to the lab.

“Phew, at least they didn’t notice the heart.”

Indeed. Showing the heart-filled jar to the guard earlier might’ve made him faint. His face was pale enough meeting us alone.

***

It took a while to get the corpse smell out of my clothes. Ironically, preserved bodies seem to lose their odor faster than expected.

Formaldehyde smells are notoriously hard to remove. Real corpse odors, oddly, dissipate quicker.

Dissecting cadavers for research felt fine at first, but now seeing how blood stains clothes and how corpse smells linger… makes me not want to repeat it often.

I should recruit participants for dissection practice. More importantly, I need graduate students. When will they show up?

Anyway,

Yesterday, Istina’s paper was published in the journal—with me listed as the corresponding author. People seemed to think it was my paper.

The paper on epidemic dysentery’s causes and countermeasures. Even before publication, during cross-verification, it caused quite a stir.

The response after publication was explosive. While folk remedies and treatments for epidemic dysentery existed, theoretically clarifying its cause and implementing government-level responses was practically unprecedented.

More accurately, this was the first time such content appeared in a paper.

Rumors about the paper had circulated in academic circles for a while, but politicians and bureaucrats showed particular interest this time. Evidence came from…

A letter sent by the Crown Prince. Mint usually receives casual letters asking if she’s okay or why I haven’t returned yet, but this one clearly had an agenda—it bore the Imperial Palace seal instead of the Prince’s personal stamp.

– Your paper has been submitted to the Imperial Government.

– Not only the content, but the final sentence of your paper seems to have struck a chord with someone. Roughly, it said “Medicine and hygiene are tools of governance and extensions of administration.”

An unusually serious tone for a letter from the Crown Prince. Normally scribbled carelessly, this one seems to have a purpose.

– Isn’t the essence of your paper suggesting that if Lapis’ local government hadn’t overcrowded slums, had proper sewage facilities, and responded promptly to the epidemic, nothing would’ve happened?

– Lapis’ regent seemed clueless, but that’s how it appears to politicians.

Seeing what they want to see. Apparently, my paper was viewed by imperial politicians as a tool for political attacks.

Hmm.

– Isn’t the general consensus that epidemics are uncontrollable natural disasters? But if, as you claim, epidemics spread through microscopic particles and are controllable…

The Crown Prince seems deep in thought.

– Wouldn’t controlling and managing epidemics become a national responsibility? They debated this topic extensively, but bureaucrats lacked the specialized knowledge to reach a proper conclusion.

The Crown Prince isn’t called brilliant for nothing.

Not only did he understand the paper, but he meticulously planned how to use it for his benefit.

Regardless of the discussion’s outcome, inviting the expert on this issue demonstrates his expertise and influence, right?

Thinking about it, it’s kind of funny.

– Prepare a lecture for imperial bureaucrats soon on the new theories of epidemics. If there are new findings, they should be reflected in imperial policy, shouldn’t they?

Meh. I didn’t feel particularly moved by the Crown Prince’s request. Honestly, knowing him and being someone who usually calls me “brat,” asking me to give a lecture…

No big deal. Should I ask Istina to do it? She might enjoy being summoned by the palace as an honor…

I’ll just ask Istina.

Istina is the primary author of the epidemic dysentery paper.

Of course, if Istina lectures alone in front of bureaucrats, she’ll likely be torn apart like a seal surrounded by sharks smelling blood…

Though it’s a distant future scenario, I can already picture Istina’s deer-in-the-headlights teary eyes. Maybe I should accompany her?

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