Chapter 52: Entering High Society (5) |
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After stopping Tina's, the baby's, convulsion.
I checked once more to make sure the IV line wasn't tangled, and then sat down in the chair beside the bed.
The wife stayed close to the child's side, looking down at the sleeping baby.
She, who watched the child with a sorrowful gaze while tightly holding her own finger in the baby's hand.
At the warmth felt from the tip of her finger, her expression also gradually relaxed.
The baby's father, the Count, was counting the spring rain outside the window.
The streaks of rain on the window looked like the tears the Count had shed, but I figured it was just my imagination and looked away.
And Father was in the hallway, talking with his aide.
In that brief moment of quiet, I opened my notebook and picked up my pen.
'I think I have a rough idea of the cause.'
I organized the symptoms of the 'children' in my head again.
Intermittent rigidity. Horizontal nystagmus. Hypertonia. Mydriasis.
The exogenous factors that cause these symptoms have something in common.
That is, they are substances used in rat poison.
It's a matter of course.
A substance that paralyzes nerves kills both humans and rats by the same principle.
That's why, historically, powerful neurotoxins were almost invariably used as rat poison or insecticide.
Strychnine is a prime example, as well as arsenic, thallium, and so on.
The rat poisons that were popular in their time were always used to poison people as well.
Of course, later on, rat poisons were gradually replaced with hemorrhagic toxins instead of neurotoxins for the sake of efficiency.
In any case, the history of rat poison has always been made up of neurotoxins.
'So the question is, how did the baby ingest a substance used in that rat poison.'
There are three main possibilities.
First, the food was accidentally contaminated while handling rat poison in the kitchen.
But there's a problem with this hypothesis.
It doesn't explain why only the baby was affected while the adults were fine.
It's not like rat poison is picky about which food it accidentally gets into.
So, this hypothesis is dismissed.
Second, someone secretly added the poison to the food.
But this is also a low possibility.
According to the data Father investigated, the six families do not share a common midwife or nanny, and their food is all different.
It's not for nothing that they ruled out poisoning and suspected a curse.
That leaves the third and final possibility.
'Honestly, I think this is the one.'
Without even needing to deduce, I had thought of this third possibility from the very beginning.
However, a doctor must always think based on evidence.
No matter how likely it seems, one must not draw a conclusion without evidence.
Therefore, I needed evidence.
'It would be fastest to check the kitchen myself.'
I closed my notebook and stood up from my seat.
“Count.”
The Count, who had been standing by the window, turned around.
"Now that our Tina has just recovered, I think it would be best to be careful with her food for the time being. To that end, I can check the food in the kitchen and select what must be avoided."
“...Is food that important?”
"Babies who have just had a convulsion have no strength in their muscles, so their ability to swallow is extremely weak. In the worst-case scenario, they can't swallow food and choke on it."
Of course, this is also true.
For a baby who has just had a convulsion, all foods that could cause choking, including peanuts, are prohibited.
The Count must have felt my words were rational, as he immediately gave his permission.
"Thank you. I'll have a maid assist you."
The Count called a maid and pointed at me.
"Guide this gentleman to the kitchen. Show him everything he needs."
"Yes, Master."
I picked up my house call bag and followed the maid out of the room.
When Father, who was standing in the hallway, asked where I was going, I made an excuse that I was going down for the baby's diet.
I followed the maid down to the 1st floor.
The kitchen of House Belheim was spacious.
It was about twice the size of our kitchen, and there was even a new-style oven.
I'd like to cook in a place like this, too.
Of course, I didn't forget my situation.
Suppressing my burgeoning desire to cook, I thoroughly inspected the kitchen.
First, I checked the location of the rat poison.
“Do you keep rat poison in this kitchen?”
“No, sir. After the baby was born, the lady of the house ordered all rat poison to be removed from the kitchen.”
“Then where is the rat poison stored?”
“In the basement warehouse. It’s on a different floor from the kitchen.”
As expected, the first hypothesis is out.
It's only natural, since it's common sense in any era that rat poison is dangerous if ingested.
Second, I checked the foods the baby ate.
“Could you show me what you feed the child?”
The maid opened a cupboard and began placing ingredients one by one onto the countertop.
Barley flour, honey, distilled water, and dried chamomile flowers in a small ceramic jar.
"These are ingredients for rice gruel and honey tea."
"Yes."
"Hmm. The honey is not related to this incident, but you should only feed honey to the child after they turn one year old."
"What? Is honey dangerous?"
"Yes. Honey can be a poison to a child. Please explain this well to the Count."
"I understand, Teacher."
There is honey, but it's not related to this incident.
A baby can die from honey, but the symptoms are completely different.
Tina's case is one of hypertonia, where the muscles are excessively stiff,
whereas symptoms from honey are hypotonia, where there is no strength in the muscles.
In other words, it's unrelated to this incident.
“Is this all the food the baby eats?”
“What? Yes. For now...”
“Then is there any special medicine the baby takes?”
“Umm... The head maid would know about any medicine.”
The head maid.
That probably means the person who spends the most time with the baby is the head maid.
“Could you call the head maid for me?”
A short while later, a woman who looked to be in her 40s came down to the kitchen.
As befitting her title of head maid, she was a neatly dressed old woman with sharp eyes.
“I heard there is a medicine you give to the child.”
“Yes. We have a medicine we use whenever our young lady has colic.”
I knew it.
Colic.
That’s what they call infantile colic in this world.
Infantile colic is not a very serious disease.
It’s a symptom where a baby who was born not long ago cries as if their life depends on it every night for no particular reason, and it usually gets better on its own after 4 months.
No special treatment is needed, and it’s a symptom that ends with encouraging the parents to endure it a little longer.
And I know the medicine used for this infantile colic patient.
“Are you using star anise?”
“Huh? How did you know?”
“By any chance, is the Count from the western region or eastern region of the Empire?”
“The West.”
“I see. It's a medicine used in place of anise, which is often used for babies in the western region.”
"Yes, that's right!"
The head maid looked at me with eyes full of wonder.
Under that gaze, I felt my shoulders puff up for the first time in a while.
Lately, the reactions around me were starting to treat this level of insight as a given, so the thrill of deduction was fading.
'This is the thrill of deduction.'
Anyway, I had completely grasped the full story of the incident.
Star anise.
This guy was the culprit.
'Star anise, there's no doctor who doesn't know about this.'
In the early 2000s, there was a similar incident in Europe.
The full story is as follows.
Originally, in Europe, especially in places like Spain, there was a folk remedy of boiling an herb called 'anise' to feed to babies suffering from colic.
Then, at some point, the cheaper and similarly fragrant Chinese star anise from the East replaced it.
The problem was that Westerners didn't know there were two types of star anise.
The Chinese star anise used as a spice.
And the Japanese star anise (poison star anise) used for rat poison.
Once dried and crushed, the two are indistinguishable to the naked eye.
The merchants from 'a certain country' that supplied Chinese star anise exploited this.
To lower the original cost, they secretly substituted Chinese star anise with Japanese star anise.
As a result, newborns all over Europe were collectively poisoned by rat poison.
The aftermath of the incident was so great that it changed pediatrics textbooks.
The new advice for infantile colic was to just reassure the baby instead of using strange folk remedies.
Since it's a disease that heals on its own anyway, don't feed them strange things.
'Doctors, especially pediatricians, couldn't possibly not know.'
It was an incident that changed the content of textbooks, you know?
It was a major incident, significant enough to be underlined in toxicology textbooks.
If you were a doctor back then, you couldn't not know.
Well, younger doctors might not know, but.
...Come to think of it, I was a young doctor. Damn it.
Anyway.
The same thing was happening in this world.
I bowed my head to the head maid and said,
“Thank you. You’ve been a great help. Please focus the baby’s diet on breast milk and barley gruel, leave out the honey for now, and stop the star anise tea until I say otherwise.”
“The star anise tea too? Why is that...”
“The digestive function is weak right after a convulsion, so it's safer to remove anything that could be a stimulus.”
It's not a lie.
I just didn't tell the whole truth.
Even if it wasn't poison star anise, regular star anise can also be a burden on a baby right after a convulsion.
When the head maid nodded, I left the kitchen.
And as I walked up the stairs, I thought.
'I've found the culprit.'
Star anise is the cause. I also have an idea of how it was distributed.
But the problem is what comes next.
How do I tell this to the parents?
'This Count's family is better off, at least.'
Because the baby survived.
If they learn the truth, their hearts will sink, but it will end there.
But what about the five families who have already lost their children?
'The tea you brewed killed your child.'
Would any parent be able to accept those words?
Wouldn't they rather drag it out as factional strife?
Because they can't accept that they are the sinners, they will rationalize that there must have been a curse somehow.
Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to convince themselves.
'How should I deliver this.'
What's lacking at times like this is authority.
Something that Yulian, who had just made his debut in high society, and his father, who was merely a baron, lacked.
'Still, I should at least tell Father.'
How to handle the truth was his to decide.
As I was pondering this and entering the 2nd floor hallway.
The footsteps of several people began to ascend the stairs from downstairs.
A servant's voice was heard.
“The Inspector has arrived.”
The Inspector.
The same Inspector Father mentioned during breakfast.
He must have been delayed coming from the Imperial Palace because the 6th victim suddenly appeared, which is why he arrived later than us.
Father emerged from the end of the 2nd floor hallway.
Father glanced at the stairs, then at me, and gave a short nod.
It was a sign for us to greet him together.
I stood beside Father.
Creak, creak.
The sound of footsteps ascending the 2nd floor stairs grew closer, and the shadows of two people were cast in the hallway.
The first to appear was a man in his mid-50s.
Neatly combed-back gray hair, a black overcoat with an Inspector's insignia.
And countless scars were visible, carved into his bursting forearm muscles.
“Judicial Officer Handel. You were here first.”
“I had to see the child first.”
Father clasped the Inspector's hand and bowed his waist.
Seeing Father bow his head first, he seemed to have a much higher position.
It's obvious, really.
The Inspector's main job is to investigate the corruption of nobles or to mediate disputes between them.
Naturally, no riffraff could do such a thing, so the Inspector's authority was comparable to that of a marquis family.
“I understand. So, this child?”
“My son saved him.”
“That child did?”
The Inspector's gaze turned to me.
I bowed my head to show respect.
“I am Yulian Nihilrit.”
The Inspector stroked his chin and looked me up and down.
He seemed somewhat interested.
“You did what three healing priests couldn't?”
“I was lucky.”
The corners of the Inspector's mouth rose slightly.
"Humility is the virtue of the incompetent and the vanity of the competent. Which is it for you?"
“I believe that is for history, not me, to judge.”
“Hah. I like that answer.”
The Inspector let out a short laugh.
Then he turned around and gestured.
"Come in."
One more person came up the stairs.
Hidden by the Inspector's body was a girl about my age.
The first thing that caught my eye was her golden hair.
The golden hair, like a field of wheat pressed into strands, was tied with a sky-blue ribbon.
The girl was wearing a navy cape.
The clothes visible beneath the cape were those of a young lady from a noble family, but they were somehow functionally simplified.
The first thing I thought of upon seeing that girl was...
'A detective?'
Yes. The expression 'a classic detective look' seems appropriate.
If she were just holding a pipe tobacco, she'd be the perfect great detective with a mental illness.
The eyes that had been scanning a small notebook in her hand turned to me.
Golden eyes lazily swept over me.
Then, the girl opened her mouth.
“What kind of patients do you mainly see in Limbus Pit's D-Sector?”
......
The hallway fell silent.
The Inspector pressed his forehead.
“Charlotte, haven't I told you time and time again not to be like that on a first meeting.”
The Inspector placed a hand on Charlotte's shoulder and bowed his head slightly to me.
“My apologies, Young Master Nihilrit. My child is a bit peculiar.”
“Not at all.”
But despite the Inspector's apologetic gaze, I shook my head.
Because I felt like I could tell what kind of persona this girl had at a single glance.
With a name like Charlotte and that detective look, I had a feeling this would happen.
That's why I wasn't particularly flustered despite the girl's first words.
Instead, I gave her a bright smile.
“Was there a trace left on my body? As a doctor, I pride myself on washing myself thoroughly.”
A light entered the girl's languid eyes.
Her pupils also dilated slightly.
“...Usually, people get offended when I do this upon first meeting.”
“Is there any reason to be offended?”
“Because my family is an Inspector's family. They think their information is being leaked, or that they're being investigated. Or they think they're being spied on with magic.”
“Well, I think differently.”
I rolled up my sleeves and said.
“Extremely advanced observation and deduction are no different from prophecy. So, you must have deduced I am a healer from what my father just said, and that I'm active in Limbus Pit by the color difference between the back of my hands and my palms?”
“How surprising. I just thought you were a healer who goes down to Limbus Pit, but are you moonlighting in another business?”
“No, that's not it. I do something similar. I read the traces left on a patient’s body to find an unseen illness. Is there any need to be surprised when our methodologies are the same?”
The girl's face brightened.
Her once-languid eyes were now sparkling.
“You must be a skilled healer.”
“It’s an unremarkable knack. So, Young Lady, was my guess correct?”
As if she had been waiting, the young lady began to lay out her deductions as soon as my words ended.
“Yes. First, the color difference between the back of your hands and your palms that you mentioned. There's a reddish-brown to yellowish-brown pigmentation on your neck and the back of your hands. This level of discoloration doesn't happen with the air in Sanctum Hill. It’s a pigmentation that only appears if you regularly go down outside the Copper Wall, and into a fairly deep area at that.”
“But I wash my hands often. And I wear a mask.”
“That's why only those two parts had a different color.”
Her gaze then moved to the tips of my feet.
“I deduced D-Sector from the animal fat on your dress shoes.”
“Ah, the welt on my dress shoes is discolored.”
“That’s right. You probably frequent a slaughterhouse, and a lot of blood and fat have gotten on them.”
"Indeed, no matter how much you polish your shoes every day, traces like that tend to remain between the seams of the welt. An excellent deduction, Miss Charlotte.”
At my compliment, the young lady smiled brightly.
“It’s just the basics, Young Master Nihilrit.”
“That’s right. Basic deduction.”
At my reply, she gave a gentle smile and offered a handshake.
I took her fine hand in mine.
“Yulian Schnabel Nihilrit.”
“I’m Charlotte von Hausen.”
The Inspector, who was watching this, had a look of surprise in his eyes.
“Good heavens… for Charlotte to offer a handshake first.”
Judging from her greeting and reaction just now, I could pretty much tell what kind of persona this young lady named Charlotte had.
The name Charlotte Hausen.
Her deduction skills, reading the traces left on my body as soon as we met.
Her social skills, which made the Inspector react that way.
Anyone with a bit of web novel experience would know who this young lady's character is based on.
'Just what kind of creation was the original work?'
I mean, I can accept mixing magic and punk, and even medicine.
But you're mixing in Sherlock Holmes too?
'This misunderstanding genre, the character placement is a work of art.'
Then, here’s the question.
The original protagonist, meaning 'me', is a doctor persona.
And the girl before my eyes is based on Sherlock Holmes.
So, according to the genre trope, what is my role?
'So I was Watson.'
With this, I was certain.
About what kind of persona the original Yulian Schnabel was.
'As expected, the protagonist of a misunderstanding genre should be an ordinary citizen.'
An ordinary doctor with average skills, as diligent as the average doctor, who likes to gamble a little.
Except for the last part, it wasn't that different from the current me.
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