Chapter 41
*
Blister Plague. Scarlet Fever. Black Plague. Curse of Rot. Bone Melt.
Each of these was the name used in this world for smallpox, scarlet fever, the Black Death, leprosy, and bone tuberculosis, respectively.
Besides those, malaria was called Southern Fever, and the cinchona tree was called the Tiron tree.
Thus, this world sometimes called diseases I knew by different names.
After realizing that.
The first thing I did was translate this world's disease names into the names I knew.
And in the process, I discovered a rather peculiar disease.
Demon disease.
A disease that grew worse instead of better the more healing magic it received.
It could not be treated with healing magic or medicinal herbs, and the only way to cure it was to pray to God. It was the ultimate disease of this age.
As soon as I heard about it, I confidently dug through the records.
‘As expected, it must be something like cancer or a rare disease.’
Just as smallpox was called Blister Plague and the Black Death was called Black Plague, I thought demon disease must be another name for some disease I knew.
After compiling every case of demon disease recorded in history.
I was thrown into confusion.
‘What the hell.’
The first case I found in the historical records was the story of a certain marquis.
— Tumors grew on the body. The more healing magic he received, the larger the tumors became.
At first, I thought demon disease was cancer.
But the next case was strange.
— A fever so severe it was practically boiling. (Estimated at approximately 40 degrees.)
‘Huh? A fever?’
Cancer is not generally accompanied by a fever.
Of course, tumor fever does exist, but it is a symptom that rarely appears in stage-four cancer.
Cases exceeding 40 degrees are extremely, extremely rare.
In other words, demon disease turned out to be the contradictory condition of ‘a tumor disease accompanied by a systemic high fever.’
The problem was that demon disease's symptoms did not end there.
— His heart suddenly stopped.
— His blood would not stop flowing.
— His entire body turned black.
.
.
.
Demon disease had no consistency from patient to patient, and the records contained every kind of symptom a human being could experience.
After that, whenever I had time, I would try to unravel the mystery of demon disease.
And I found the answer relatively recently.
— “Come to think of it, in the old days, people used to confuse Pus Plague with the Curse of Rot. The two split apart as the ages passed, though.”
My master explained that, hundreds of years ago,
people could not distinguish smallpox from leprosy, so they called both of them the Curse of Rot.
But as time passed and the study of healing advanced, it was revealed that the two diseases were different.
Thus, smallpox came to be called Pus Plague, while leprosy was called the Curse of Rot.
The moment I heard that historical fact, I realized my misunderstanding about demon disease.
A world where medicine was less developed.
A world where all medical standards were determined by healing magic.
In a world like that, all ‘diseases’ that grew worse instead of improving when treated with healing magic were called demon disease.
In other words, demon disease was a collective term for all undiscovered illnesses, including cancer, autoimmune diseases, and genetic disorders.
That was why classifying those various demon diseases one by one had recently become my interest…
‘Freya has demon disease at this exact moment?’
Freya was showing symptoms that fell under demon disease.
‘Should I be happy about this or not?’
Looking back on my life, that was how things always went.
As soon as I researched and completed quinine at age eight, Father came down with malaria.
When I returned after gaining experience in the red-light district, Mother and Fried nearly ended up in danger.
And now that I was researching demon disease, Freya had contracted demon disease.
It was definitely correct according to the conventions of a misunderstanding story, but…
‘I didn't cause her to get it, did I? Right?’
I must have simply gotten the timing right, right?
Surely I wasn't like some famous boy detective, carrying death around with me wherever I went?
…Please tell me that's true.
But that wasn't important right now.
‘First, I need to classify this case of demon disease.’
As I mentioned, demon disease was not a single illness.
Cancer, autoimmune diseases, genetic disorders.
Demon disease was the collective name for every disease that could not be treated with healing magic.
Naturally, to cure a disease, you first had to understand it.
So to treat demon disease, I had to determine exactly what kind of disease this was.
‘Let's organize Freya's symptoms.’
High fever, non-blanching erythema, conjunctival injection, dry mucous membranes, and an enlarged spleen.
And most importantly, she had gotten worse after receiving low-tier Heal.
‘The principle behind low-tier Heal is enhancing regenerative capacity and immunity.’
A list of diseases that could worsen because of low-tier Heal appeared in my mind.
Cancer, autoimmune diseases, rheumatoid disease, anaphylaxis…
From among them, I narrowed it down to diseases that could cause a fever exceeding 41 degrees.
That alone greatly narrowed down the candidates.
‘Taking into account her history of frequent colds and the fact that she is a fourteen-year-old girl….’
Cytokine storm.
Yes. This was the most likely possibility.
When the immune system fights pathogens, the body raises its temperature to create a home-field advantage.
That way, organisms vulnerable to heat cannot exert themselves in a body with a high temperature and are summarily wiped out.
— Talk about playing dirty!
Even the brain, which normally keeps a limiter on body temperature, releases that limiter at this moment and allows the temperature to keep rising.
The problem occurs when the immune system fighting the bacteria occasionally runs wild.
— I will no longer be under your control!
Normally, the immune system raises body temperature to a reasonable level, but intoxicated by its own power, it keeps raising it without end.
The brain, which would ordinarily control this, has already released its limiter.
Then the fever climbs without limit.
As a result, the brain gets cooked sous vide and the patient dies.
This phenomenon is called a cytokine storm.
‘It's like setting the house on fire to catch one thief.’
Strictly speaking, it was more complicated than that, but that was the gist of it.
‘That's why her symptoms worsened when I cast low-tier Heal in this situation.’
The pathogens inside Freya were probably all dead by now.
Between the high temperature and two rounds of Heal, they had probably vanished without a trace.
But the price was a body temperature approaching 42 degrees.
I needed to lower her temperature immediately.
Having finished thinking, I called the priestess, who had been repeatedly wiping away cold sweat with a handkerchief.
“Sister.”
“Y-yes!”
The priestess's shoulders flinched.
“The child's condition must have gradually worsened every time you cast Heal. Correct?”
“Yeees….”
“Then why did you keep casting it?”
The priestess's face turned pale.
“I-I… because her fever wouldn't go down… I thought it was because I didn't have enough divine power….”
“If you don't have enough divine power, it simply has no effect. It doesn't cause the opposite effect.”
“…Yes, that's right.”
“Then when the patient's condition worsens, you should stop and call a superior. Why did you keep trying on your own?”
“I'm sorry….”
“Hmm. You must have learned about demon disease in school. Are you an apprentice priest?”
“I-I'm a low-ranking priestess.”
Damn.
As expected, this was a dark fantasy world where the romance was still alive and well.
Why did they have to send a resident physician even for an outcall?
No, wait.
Come to think of it, even in the twenty-first century, they sent interns to local emergency rooms.
…Damn. Even when the world changes, the exhausting work still falls to the juniors.
“It must have been late at night, and since this was an outcall and they were told it was a cold patient, they sent you.”
“Yeees….”
It wasn't that she didn't know about demon disease.
She simply lacked enough practical experience for that knowledge to come out at the right time.
It was a common phenomenon among residents who had only recently been assigned to clinical work.
‘Tsk, tsk. She must have come expecting a cold patient. How flustered must she have been when it suddenly turned out to be demon disease?’
Her mind was probably completely blank right now.
To use an analogy from my past life, it was like an intern working a night shift alone when a patient with a knife wound to the heart suddenly came rolling in on a gurney.
The patient was gasping for breath, and the professor would not answer the phone,
and then, when the heart stopped, the intern had performed cardiac massage.
On a patient with a hole in the chest, no less!
And that patient was a prosecutor's family member.
I probably would have cried too if I'd still been an intern.
In fact, I did.
Tsk. What an idiot I was.
It was only lucky that I somehow managed to clean up the mess.
Thinking back, I got roped into thoracic surgery by the professor who helped me clean it up.
Why had I done that? I should have chosen radiology and enjoyed a better work-life balance.
My thoughts keep wandering off.
Anyway, what the low-ranking priestess had done was a disaster of that magnitude.
She had failed to recognize a noble young lady—a patient with demon disease, no less—and then repeatedly cast Heal on her.
As a result, the demon disease had grown worse.
“Sister.”
“I'm sorry. Please forgive me, my lord. I still have daughters….”
Oh, she had daughters too.
A working mother, at that.
Judging by her wrinkles, she seemed to be fairly old.
And yet she was still a low-ranking priestess…
‘Was she a late bloomer?’
Well, it was a common sight in medical school too.
There were people who entered medical school after turning thirty.
“I understand.”
I calmed the sobbing priestess.
As Freya's family member, I wanted to get angry and demand an explanation, but doing so would not change anything.
Freya was the priority right now.
And I needed the priestess in order to treat Freya.
‘If an emergency happens, at least she can cast Heal to keep Freya alive.’
Heal had made her condition worse, but it was still essential in an emergency.
Because it increased not only immunity but also vitality and regenerative power, it could delay multiple-organ failure.
The only reason Freya was holding on now was that Heal had made her immunity go berserk, while her vitality had also grown stronger by just as much.
Therefore, this low-ranking priestess was effectively Freya's life insurance.
“I was wrong…. I was wrong….”
However, in this state, she did not seem fit even to serve as an assistant, so I needed to calm her down first.
Perhaps I should ease the mood with some small talk.
“Please calm down. You said you have daughters. How old are they?”
“They're fourteen and sixteen… Both of them do well in school and have nice personalities, unlike me, and, ah, the older one recently entered puberty, but….”
“Yes. Good.”
I cut off the priestess's rambling.
“As it happens, my younger sister is fourteen. Wouldn't it be better to think of Freya as your daughter and do your best to treat her?”
“…Please, spare my daughters!”
No—how did that translation happen?
I meant that she should squeeze out everything she had learned so far and use it.
Did she really think that if Freya died, her daughters would not be safe either?
As if I would do that.
…Well, Father might.
Hmm.
Come to think of it, I couldn't say I was certain this family would be safe if something happened to Freya.
“…Please calm down. What I mean is, haven't you learned how to manage the symptoms of patients with demon disease?”
The priestess shook her head.
I had a feeling that would be the case.
The demon disease treatment guidelines I knew said to leave the patient alone and pray.
Don't cast healing magic and make the patient suffer needlessly; just proceed with hospice care.
And if the patient didn't die?
That meant the prayer had reached God.
‘I only asked just in case. This means I don't have to worry about holding back.’
From that moment on, the priestess changed careers and became a Heal totem.
I felt truly sorry that this seemed to disregard a professional's authority.
But my family's life was on the line.
I immediately recalled the procedure for treating Freya.
‘First, I need to suppress her immune system.’
The cause of a cytokine storm was excessive inflammation.
Therefore, I needed to calm that inflammation.
And there was a separate drug for that.
‘The steroids are… right here.’
Fortunately, I had steroids in my bag.
Steroids were an anti-inflammatory drug made by grinding up pig adrenal glands.
However, this steroid had one minor problem.
The yield extracted from the adrenal glands was terribly low.
That was because, unlike insulin, this wasn't a hormone that could be stored.
It was produced whenever it was needed.
Because of that, even if you sliced open a pig's belly, you would not get so much as a pig's tail's worth of steroids.
To give you an idea of how little was produced, crushing roughly one ton of pig adrenal glands yielded one gram of steroids.
Because of this horrible and despair-inducing yield, steroids were a precious medicine of which I had very little.
‘One one-gram vial.’
You could think of this tiny ampoule as containing thousands of pigs, concentrated into one bottle.
I'm not exaggerating when I say this one bottle contained as much money as the research fund I had donated to Master this year.
But—
‘What am I thinking?’
There was no hesitation.
She was my only younger sister.
Earning money. Using the conventions of a misunderstanding story to rise in the world.
In the end, I did all of it to make my family happy.
What good would it do to save this medicine now?
I took out a syringe.
Without delay, I tied a tourniquet around Freya's slender arm.
The one gram of medicine compressed from a ton of material began slowly seeping into the bluish vein.
‘Please hold on.’
Steroids were not normally administered as a single one-gram dose.
The pills usually taken by allergy patients were ten milligrams, or 0.01 grams.
So I was administering a hundred times the amount those people took, all at once.
But there was a reason for this too.
‘I have to use pulse therapy.’
It was a drastic treatment that slammed in a high dose of steroids at once to forcibly shut down the immune system running wild.
Normally, it was insane enough to make the heart stop.
But right now, saving her brain came first, so I had no choice.
‘If her heart stops, I can cast Heal or perform CPR.’
But if her brain got cooked, there was no saving her.
So I had no choice but to make this gamble.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Over fifteen minutes, I administered the entire gram.
Slowly, as slowly as possible, directly controlling the speed with my hand.
It was a last desperate effort to reduce the burden on her heart as much as possible.
‘Please….’
I pulled out the syringe and pressed a piece of sterile cloth firmly against the injection site on Freya's arm.
“Sister.”
“Y-yes!”
“Bring me a towel soaked in cold water. And water that has been boiled and cooled, too. She mustn't get dehydrated.”
“Understood!”
By then, the priestess, who had become my assistant, hurried out of the room.
I placed my hand on Freya's forehead.
It was still hot.
‘Of course it is.’
Steroids weren't magic.
Her fever would not plummet the moment I pushed in the syringe.
It would take at least two hours, and up to four, before the effects began to appear.
I knew that rationally, of course…
‘Please….’
My mind was filled with anxiety.
Then Freya's weak voice reached me.
“Big brother….”
“What's wrong?”
“Are you there?”
“Yeah. I'm right here.”
I took the sweat-soaked hand of my younger sister.
The trembling hand of a fourteen-year-old girl.
She knew what death was, but she was far too young to accept it.
“It's okay.”
I squeezed that hand tightly.
“I'm here with you.”
“….”
“What did I say last time, when Fried was born and fell ill?”
“…I trust you, Big Brother.”
“That's right.”
Some of the strength left Freya's hand after she heard my answer.
An hour passed.
41.0°C. No change.
Two hours passed.
40.7°C.
It had dropped a little.
Three hours passed.
41.0°C. It rose again.
‘Damn it….’
There was no sign of the fever going down.
Was the steroid dose too low?
Or was her immune system, driven berserk by Heal, simply too strong?
Clicking my tongue, I gave the priestess a new order.
“Sister. Do you know how to make holy water?”
“Huh? Ah, yes. I learned how at the seminary…. But it may be difficult here, because there isn't enough symbolic significance….”
“Then go outside and make some now. There's a prayer room in the annex, so you should be able to do it there.”
“Yes! I'll be back!”
The priestess hurriedly left the room.
After sending her out.
I looked down at my younger sister, whose body was trembling.
Actually, I had one more card to play besides steroids.
The problem was that it was a treatment with no clinical data whatsoever.
Knowing I would be giving an unverified treatment to a family member, I could not easily bring myself to use it.
But… I had no other choice now.
‘Tsk.’
I had been so bold when Fried was born.
And yet I had become timid the moment I stepped inside the fence.
‘Get a grip, Yulian.’
I was the protagonist of a misunderstanding story.
A protagonist who succeeded at everything he did.
And a genius of black magic recognized by the Great Sage.
So there was no reason to worry.
‘What had I been hesitating about until now?’
It was already too late to hesitate.
With resolve, I clasped Freya's hand tightly.
I clasped both of her hands and quietly began to construct the ritual.
The catalyst was the steroids flowing through her blood.
The grammar of the ritual was a curse.
And the symbol I would use was…
‘…I'm sorry.’
The Y-shaped cross the priestess had left behind.
I used that cross as the catalyst.
‘Apostle. If you bear the symbolism I think you do….’
Please sacrifice yourself once again.
I clasped the cross tightly in both hands and recited the words like a song.
“Expurgatio angeli custodis inepti atque fervidi.”
The moment the incantation ended, the mana drained from my body.
Just as I began to worry that it had failed,
the brass cross in my hand melted,
and Freya's fever soon began to fall rapidly.