Chapter 51: Entering High Society (4) |
***
After deciding to use one of the Three Divine Instruments.
After that, my days were as normal as ever.
On weekdays, I saw patients at the clinic, gave Erika blood transfusions from time to time, occasionally attended my teacher's class, and secretly prepared dinner almost every evening.
They were repetitive, but fulfilling days.
And so, winter passed.
When the number of patients with cracked heads from being hit by icicles falling from the eaves began to increase at the clinic, it started to feel like spring was finally on its way.
My birthday also passed during that time.
Sixteen.
— "When you turn sixteen, you either help with your parents' work or make a name for yourself fighting Outside the Wall."
At the time, I had decided to help with my father's work, and he had promised to call for me when he was sure the situation was safe.
And my first day of work was decided one day at breakfast, just as the first spring rain began to fall.
That morning, Freya was yawning beside me, not yet fully awake.
She brought a piece of bread with no butter to her lips.
She had been eating bread without butter lately, saying she was trying to lose weight.
It must taste awful.
“Yulian.”
My father, sitting across from her, spoke as he buttered his bread.
“Yes, Father.”
“An incident has come up that I’ll be taking you to today.”
His hand, buttering the bread, did not stop.
“What kind of incident?”
“Between last winter and this spring, five newborn babies from noble families have died. The incidents occurred in the families of two counts and three viscounts.”
Freya’s chewing stopped.
I glanced to my side and saw Freya looking at our father, her sleepiness gone.
Father took a bite of his buttered bread and a sip of coffee before continuing.
“According to the parents’ testimonies, the deceased children had something in common. They would first become very fussy, then start vomiting, and then their whole bodies would go limp and start to tremble.”
“Could it not be a simple disease?”
“It’s too strange for five of them to have the same symptoms. Above all, those five families are all currently in the same faction as Prince Auguste.”
Uh-oh. The moment I heard that, it started to smell fishy.
A noble’s child dying in this era?
That can happen.
Five children dying consecutively around the same time?
It could happen, though rarely, if an epidemic were to break out.
But for it to be nobles from the same faction is something that absolutely cannot be a coincidence.
In most cases like this, it’s rational to suspect that a hostile faction cast a curse.
Now that I think about it, this seems like a huge incident.
Is this really safe?
Aren't we just putting ourselves in danger by digging into this?
“It hasn't been confirmed whether it's a curse. However, the Royal Court is only hearing what it wants to hear. The picture of it being factional strife has probably already been painted. That's why I've been dispatched.”
“Don’t you belong to a faction, Father?”
“No.”
Father finished his breakfast by calmly sipping the rest of his coffee.
“An Inspector will also be dispatched. Since a faction of the Imperial Family is involved, they won't leave a Judicial Officer to handle it alone.”
An Inspector.
I felt relieved as soon as I heard that.
An Inspector is an official who uncovers corruption among the nobles.
The Inspector’s role also includes monitoring the competition for the throne to ensure it doesn't overheat.
In other words, the dispatch of an Inspector to this incident was a warning from the Emperor not to cross the line any further.
“With the decision to dispatch an Inspector, I'm now confident that this incident is safe. So, let’s start going to work together from today.”
“I understand, Father. Then I will prepare my medicine.”
I got up from my seat and headed to my room to pack my house call bag.
IV fluid, a trauma treatment emergency kit, Heparin, a diluted cocaine solution...
I also packed any other medicines I thought might be necessary.
As I finished packing the medicines and left my study, I ran into Erika at the end of the hallway.
“Teacher, be careful.”
Normally, I might have taken her with me.
But I must not forget the purpose of this tour.
I am accompanying my father as his son.
Bringing Erika along in a situation like this had a high chance of becoming a problem.
“I’ll be back, Erika.”
I brushed Erika's red hair once and went down the stairs.
Father was already standing at the entrance, wearing his overcoat.
When the butler opened the door, a car was waiting outside.
However, instead of the head butler standing beside the car as usual, someone else was there.
'That person is...'
It was my father's aide.
His name was Heinz.
I'd seen his face before when he came to see my father for work.
The complexion of Heinz, waiting by the car, was not good by any stretch of the imagination.
“Judicial Officer Handel.”
Heinz bowed his head and held out a sealed envelope.
“An urgent report came in at dawn today.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the sixth one.”
Father's hand, which was taking the document from the envelope, paused for a moment.
But without showing any reaction, Father took out the document and checked its contents.
It took him less than ten seconds to scan the document inside.
“The symptoms are... the same. Is it the same faction this time as well?”
“Yes. It's House Belheim, from His Highness Auguste's faction.”
“When did the incident occur?”
“One hour ago.”
“Then is the baby still alive?”
“...It is still alive.”
Father folded the document and put it in the inner pocket of his overcoat.
Then, he turned his head over his shoulder toward me.
“You heard that, Yulian.”
I nodded without hesitation.
“We can save the baby if we hurry.”
“Understood. Let's go at once.”
*
The mansion of House Belheim was a little over ten minutes away from our house by car.
While speeding between the tree-lined streets of Sanctum Hill, I placed my house call bag on my lap and double-checked the medicines.
'If I put the baby's symptoms together...'
I spent a few minutes preparing in the car.
Before long, the car came to a stop.
When the main gate opened, a garden filled with fresh greenery came into view.
It was a well-tended garden, a rare sight inside these walls.
Even though our family has plenty of money, we don't have a garden like this because no one really enjoys them...
Ah, what am I thinking about in a situation like this.
I tore my gaze from the garden and looked toward the entrance.
People were gathered in front of the entrance.
Two male servants, a handmaiden, and a healing priest in black robes.
None of them looked well.
Father got out first.
When he showed his Judicial Officer's seal, the servants cleared a path.
“Where is the child?”
“On the 2nd floor, Judicial Officer. The lady is holding the child.”
“Lead the way.”
“But that child is...”
The adults’ gazes all turned to me.
Father dismissed their suspicious gazes.
“He is a renowned healer. There’s no time to explain, so just lead the way.”
“Understood, Lord.”
Father followed the servant up the stairs with long strides.
I followed behind him.
At the end of the 2nd floor hallway, a cry could be heard from beyond an open door.
It was a cry far too mature to be a child's.
It was the cry of mothers who had lost their babies, one I'd often heard at the Limbus Pit clinic.
Entering the room where the crying came from, I saw a lady sitting on the bed.
A woman who looked to be just over twenty was sobbing.
A limp baby was cradled in her arms.
I quickly assessed the baby's condition.
'It's not a tonic-clonic seizure. But it's not an absence seizure either.'
The list of diseases that could cause convulsions was quickly being erased from my mind.
What I'm seeing in the child now is the repetition of an intermittent tonic phase.
A symptom where the whole body stiffens like a board, relaxes for a few seconds, and then stiffens again; the principle was different from a seizure.
'Horizontal nystagmus confirmed.'
Her eyes were half-closed, the eyeballs trembling minutely in a horizontal direction.
It means there's a problem with the cerebellum or the brainstem.
Intermittent rigidity, horizontal nystagmus, mydriasis, hypertonia.
A differential diagnosis ran through my mind.
Hypocalcemia?
It's common in newborns, but the nystagmus isn't this distinct.
Intracranial hemorrhage?
It's possible if it was a difficult birth, but at two months old, the probability is too low.
Congenital metabolic disorder?
I might suspect it if this were an isolated case.
But unless the six families are the Habsburg Royal Family, it's impossible for them to all have the same genetic disease at the same time.
What remains is...
'Exogenous.'
And a candidate substance that could cause these symptoms naturally came to mind.
'If it's that...'
I definitely came here to provide treatment.
And I've suddenly ended up deducing the culprit, too.
If I had my way, I could even stage a deduction show right here.
But the priority right now is saving the child.
'First, stop the convulsions.'
While the convulsions are ongoing, the body starts to consume an immense amount of oxygen, far more than usual.
As a result, respiration can't keep up with the rate of consumption, and if this situation continues, the brain will become deprived of oxygen.
And there's no need to explain what happens to an oxygen-deprived brain.
I tore my gaze from the child and looked at the lady holding her.
“Please let me see the child.”
The lady lifted her head.
Her bloodshot eyes looked up at me.
The man standing behind her, who I assumed was Count Belheim, blocked my way.
He glared not at me, but at my father, and spoke.
“Who is this child, Judicial Officer?”
“He is my son. And also a healer.”
“A healer? At this age?”
A suspicious gaze fixed on my face.
I didn’t react to his gaze.
Strictly speaking, I wasn't a healer, but there was nothing to be gained by revealing that in this situation.
The Count's gaze toward my silent self sharpened slightly.
“Three healing priests have already performed rituals of release, to no avail.”
“That’s because it wasn’t a curse.”
The room fell silent at my answer.
The Count's eyes narrowed, but I paid it no mind.
“How can you be so sure it isn't a curse?”
“Then let me ask you in return. What curse is there that causes such symptoms in a baby?”
“...I do not know much about black magic.”
“There is nothing as irresponsible as lumping vague ignorance together and calling it a curse. Can a hunter who draws his bowstring in a fog where he cannot even see the target possibly catch his prey?”
The Count glared at me as if to pierce through me.
“Are you saying you can see beyond that fog?”
“I'm only human, so I can't do that. But in the end, a diagnosis is a series of shots with an arrow at the most probable target. I know where the target most likely to be hit is.”
The Count fell silent.
After a moment of silence, he spoke again.
“...I entrust my first child to you.”
The Count stepped aside.
In that time, the child's body stiffened once more.
The small back arched like a bow in the lady’s arms.
I didn't wait any longer.
“Ma'am. You must put the child down.”
The lady's fingers were clenched tightly around the baby's newborn clothes.
It was a common sight in pediatrics emergency rooms and the Limbus Pit.
It's not that she doesn't trust the doctor.
It's that she's afraid the warmth she feels now will be the last.
I knew what to say to mothers like her.
“Don't worry. It's not a serious illness.”
The lady's pupils wavered.
Of course, I knew my words were contradictory.
If it wasn't a serious illness, how could the other babies with similar symptoms have died?
But just seeing a doctor act so calmly was enough to make patients feel a great sense of relief.
And it was the same this time.
The lady hesitated for a moment, then handed the baby to me.
I took the child and laid her on the bed.
When I was 12 years old, it was difficult for me to even move a baby on my own.
Now that I was sixteen, I had no problem doing it by myself.
Thanks to that, there was one more technique I could now use.
'Gauging the body weight... around two months old. About 4 kilograms, maybe.'
I reconfirm the convulsion pattern before treatment.
Tonic phase for 10 seconds, relaxation phase for 5 seconds. Nystagmus is ongoing. Pallor in skin tone, but no cyanosis yet.
No head trauma. Respiration is still holding up.
'There's time.'
I immediately opened my house call bag and took out a medicine bottle.
Inside were transparent crystals.
It was an anticonvulsant I had accidentally created while trying to make an anesthetic in the past.
When I opened the lid, a uniquely pungent smell hit my nose.
'As expected. I'm glad I brought this when I heard about the convulsions.'
I took a vial of distilled water, a syringe, and a thin rubber tube from my house call bag.
I scooped up the crystals with the tip of the syringe and dissolved them in the distilled water.
The transparent crystals slowly dissolved in the water.
“What are you doing, Yulian?”
I didn't answer my father's question.
Instead, I visually checked the concentration of the solution.
Body weight: 4 kilograms.
Considering the rectal absorption rate, I calculate the appropriate dosage.
...Is this calculation right?
Sigh. My major wasn't pediatrics, so I'm not very good at this.
But there was no one to confirm if I was right.
In the end, I entrusted it to the power of the misunderstanding genre, loaded the solution into the syringe, and connected it to the rubber tube.
Then, I lifted the child's lower body.
“Wait, what...”
The Count took a step closer.
Before the Count could stop me, I applied lubricant to the tip of the rubber tube and carefully inserted it into the child's anus.
The room froze.
Everyone except me stood with their mouths agape.
In the center of their gazes, I firmly pressed the syringe's plunger.
“She will be fine in five minutes.”
I said, pointing to the clock on the wall.
In the meantime, I began to search for the child's vein.
A baby's veins are already small and faint.
With the convulsions on top of that, it was no easy task.
However, I'd seen more severe cases in babies at the Limbus Pit, so it wasn't that difficult a task either.
After securing an intravenous line and starting the IV fluid in five minutes.
I touched the child's forehead with the back of my hand.
It was a motion to check her body temperature.
It was then.
The child's fist unclenched.
The five fingers that had been clenched white just moments ago slowly opened and grasped my finger.
Along with that, the child's breathing began to return to normal.
The child's convulsions had stopped.
“The convulsions...!”
“Good heavens...”
Only after fiddling with the baby's body to check her other reflexes did I turn my head toward the Count and Countess.
“Your baby is safe now. Ah, but my question is late. What is your baby's name?”
I turned to the Count and Countess and smiled warmly.
The Count and Countess flinched.
Soon, the Count answered, his voice trembling slightly.
“...Tina. Tina Belheim.”
“Tina. That's a lovely name.”
Behind the Count and Countess, my father was nodding his head with a proud expression.
