The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint

Chapter 104

Faith Reassembled (4)

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 104: Faith Reassembled (4)

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* * *

Germ theory.

In the history of the Earth where I had lived, it had taken quite an ordeal for germ theory to be accepted.

The humoral theory and miasma theory had such solid footing that any physician who argued for germ theory was liable to be treated as a heretic.

It was roughly like arguing for heliocentrism in an age when geocentrism was dominant.

‘People can’t believe what they haven’t seen with their own eyes.’

The reason was simple.

You could see bodily fluids, but you could not see bacteria.

Proving both that invisible microorganisms existed and that they caused disease was no easy task.

Yet germ theory was eventually accepted once people could see them through microscopes.

So, on the day of the presentation, I began by lining up microscopes across the stage.

“Greetings, esteemed healers. It will be faster for you to see them yourselves than for me to explain. These are bacteria I have cultured and stained over the past few months. If anything makes you curious during my explanation, please come forward and examine them yourselves.”

Scholars were endlessly conservative about knowledge, yet once they found undeniable evidence that shattered their beliefs, they became consumed by it.

That was what scholars were.

That was why I had prepared these microscopes.

“First, I will explain how I came to discover these microorganisms.”

I had only begun to believe in the existence of gods after seeing divine power.

How could I deny a god’s miracle when it was right before my eyes?

That was why I was showing them to the healers.

Few scholars could deny what they had seen firsthand.

“My goodness...”

“I have never seen a microscope this clear!”

“You mean that is not dust?”

There was no need to teach them how to use microscopes.

Before they were used to observe bacteria, microscopes had been tools for examining capillaries, fungi, parasites, and the like.

Any medical scholar naturally knew how to use one.

“Saint, are these bacteria naturally purple?”

“Bacteria are naturally translucent. I used dye to make them easier to see.”

I had poured overwhelming manpower and capital into this.

Finding the right dye was basically brute-force labor.

I paid lower-ranking healers to find one, and suitable dyes sprang up everywhere in no time.

Maybe that was why professors with lots of graduate students produced better research.

“These bacteria move. They move differently from parasites, and they look unlike dust. They must be living creatures.”

At an elderly healer’s words, I smiled beneath my mask.

That was exactly the reaction I had hoped for.

Normally, bacteria did not move.

More precisely, they moved so damned slowly that they might as well not have moved at all.

So even if I showed them bacteria, someone could object that they were dust because they did not move.

To prevent that, I had deliberately cultured the most active bacteria I could find.

‘Choosing spirilla was a good call.’

Spirilla.

They were among the most energetic bacteria around.

They moved as though shouting, “I’m a living creature!”

It had been so difficult to culture only these things.

Are you a spirillum?

Oh no! I’m staphylococcus!

Are you a spirillum?

Sorry! I’m fungus!

What about you?

Yep! I’m a spirillum, but the dawn air is cold, so I’m going to die!

Fuck!

...It had been so difficult to culture only them.

I had nearly ruined my image as a kind saint and lost my temper.

In any case, once the respected elders had confirmed the existence of bacteria with their own eyes, I began my explanation in earnest.

“Parasites are the smallest living creatures that we can see with the naked eye. But I began with the thought that something even smaller might exist.”

I pointed at the first specimen with the short pointer in my hand.

“Please look at this. It was collected from rotten meat. The next specimen was collected from stagnant swamp water, and the one after that from a festering wound on a corpse.”

They accepted the existence of bacteria.

But that did not immediately establish a causal relationship between bacteria and disease.

Could anyone directly observe bacteria causing disease inside a body?

Unfortunately, even in the 21st century, no one had directly observed that process.

Naturally, it was impossible to show it in this world as well.

So I changed my approach.

“Without exception, these bacteria were found wherever there was decay.”

Disease was invisible.

But fermentation and decay were visible.

And it was easy to intuitively understand that decay was somehow related to disease.

So I began with decay.

“And not only decay. These bacteria were also found without exception in the blood of patients who developed a fever after receiving healing, and in rotten wounds.”

One case out of a hundred was coincidence.

Fifty out of a hundred suggested some connection.

A hundred out of a hundred made causation clear.

And bacteria were found in more than nine hundred out of a thousand sepsis patients.

Who could refute that?

“Furthermore, the bleach you have recently begun using also proves the existence of these bacteria. This compares the number of fever patients at clinics before and after they began using bleach.”

Bleach.

A sanitary product that people had started using on the off chance that it might be a catalyst for divine power.

Clinics that used it had far fewer fever patients, and their consumption of divine power had also decreased dramatically.

“Research has confirmed that bleach kills these bacteria. In other words, these bacteria may be the substance that causes disease and interferes with divine power.”

Healing someone with a sword still stuck in them consumed more divine power than pulling out the sword first.

It was common knowledge in divine magic that removing the cause greatly reduced the consumption of divine power.

And bleach killed bacteria while also reducing divine-power consumption.

Then perhaps bacteria were the cause of disease.

That was my logic.

“Therefore, I have reached a conclusion. Rather than invisible miasma, these bacteria, which are difficult to see but undeniably exist, are the cause of disease.”

* * *

“...Based on this evidence, I suspect that bacteria may be the cause of disease.”

I finished the presentation.

Not stating it as a certainty until the end was meant to lower the psychological barrier.

Germ theory had faced considerable opposition even in its original history.

So I needed to use every possible means, however small, to lower that barrier.

“Any questions?”

Then came the heart-pounding question period.

It was also the most important time.

The fate of germ theory would depend on how well I answered here.

‘Bring it on.’

Of course, I was confident.

I had been torn apart by professors at enough conferences.

Compared to them, questions from this era were practically adorable.

The first person to raise a hand was an elderly elven healer seated in the front row.

“Yes, please.”

“I am Erpen Adamberta.”

A major figure from the very start.

Erpen Adamberta.

A great elder of the Adamberta Sect, famed for its secret blood treatments.

The sect’s divine magic specialized in regenerating blood.

It was basically this world’s hematology department.

And Erpen Adamberta was the living history of bloodletting, having treated patients by drawing their blood for three hundred years.

“Fine statistics. But I have a question. Bacteria are certainly related to disease. Yet the logic seems somewhat weak as proof that bacteria cause disease. Could bacteria not instead be the result of disease?”

A sharp question.

It was also a common problem in statistics.

For example, people who smoked heavily were more likely to drink a lot of coffee.

And smokers were more likely to develop lung cancer.

Statistically, lung cancer patients would appear to smoke heavily and drink much coffee.

But that did not mean coffee caused lung cancer.

The two were statistically related, but they were not cause and effect.

The elven healer had seen through that.

“In fact, it may be explained through humoral theory. Four bodily fluids flow through our bodies. When their balance is disrupted, we fall ill. When that balance falters, the fluids become corrupted, and the decay you described occurs. Could the bacteria not simply attach themselves there?”

“Like maggots gathering on a rotting corpse.”

“Precisely.”

In short, the question was whether bacteria did not cause disease, but instead appeared after the body became diseased and decayed.

It was quite a good question.

And one I had wanted.

“I conducted an experiment on that as well.”

I had expected that question, so I had deliberately saved it instead of mentioning it during the presentation.

Why?

It was more dramatic this way.

If I told them everything during the presentation, it would not leave as much of an impression.

Refuting a question like this made for a better performance and stayed in their memories longer.

I had not worried that nobody would ask.

The people gathered at this presentation were the greatest medical scholars of this era.

There was no way they would finish after asking only shallow questions.

“Please look at this.”

My pointer indicated a screen beside the platform.

The screen slowly rose.

Behind it were two rabbits, each in its own cage.

One was healthy.

The other had a festering flank and was panting for breath.

“This rabbit was deliberately given a boil. From that boil, I isolated only one kind of bacteria and cultured it for a month.”

I held up a small glass vial.

“This contains only those bacteria. There is no blood, flesh, bone marrow, or any bodily fluid from that rabbit. Only bacteria.”

The elders’ gazes were fixed on the vial.

“And I injected those bacteria into another healthy rabbit.”

The pointer indicated a second screen.

When it rose, another rabbit with a festering flank appeared behind it.

“It developed the same kind of boil in the same place.”

The bacterium was an anthrax bacterium, the cause of anthrax, one of the most common diseases among livestock.

“I thought one rabbit might not convince you, so I performed this experiment more than thirty times. Without exception, the same boils appeared. However, please understand that I can only show you one today for practical reasons.”

“...”

After hearing my explanation, Erpen silently stroked a beard.

Then a sigh escaped.

“Hah... Were you waiting for that question?”

“...”

I did not answer.

But that seemed sufficient, and Erpen Adamberta nodded.

“An excellent answer.”

“I am honored, senior.”

The elven healer sat down with a satisfied smile.

Erpen was considered a living legend even in the field of healing.

Three hundred years of walking a tightrope with bloodletting was certainly impressive.

And now Erpen had backed down as though there was no choice but to accept germ theory.

The healers began murmuring among themselves.

“Hmm... If Lord Erpen reacted that way...”

“It is interesting, but is it not still too dangerous to put into practice immediately?”

“Even so, overturning a theory accepted for centuries... Things already work well enough. Is there really a need to change them?”

The healers discussed germ theory with members of their own sects, each holding their own impressions.

Then someone in the area where the Mensia Sect sat raised a hand.

‘That person is...’

I knew from what Simeon had told me.

Archbishop Dormun Mensia.

The third-ranking member of the Mensia Sect.

The person who had worked harder than anyone to reclaim my parents’ achievements and erase them.

But that was only what I had heard from Simeon’s perspective.

I did not truly know what kind of person Dormun was.

‘The first question will shape my impression.’

“Please speak.”

“I am Dormun Mensia.”

Dormun slowly folded both hands and stepped toward the stage.

Dormun looked at me with an expression of concern.

“I have been deeply impressed by the saint’s new insights. Truly. I cannot help but marvel that the gods sent us such a brilliant junior scholar.”

At least by the sound of it, Dormun was very polite.

Unlike the person Simeon had cursed.

“However, there is one point that confuses me. Please forgive this old one’s ignorance and offer me your instruction.”

“Of course.”

Dormun smiled gently.

“I understand that the saint once clearly stated that malaria was transmitted through ‘corrupted blood.’”

I had.

At the time, I could not explain parasites or bacteria.

Besides, I had no social standing then.

My identity at the time had been an unknown doctor in a crow mask who could not even use divine power, much less become Director Schun.

What would have happened if I suddenly started talking about bacteria and parasites smaller than cells?

I might have enjoyed some intimate time with heresy inquisitors.

Like an astronomer arguing for heliocentrism in the age of geocentrism.

So, based on humoral theory, I had attributed malaria to a problem of corrupted blood.

Mosquitoes sucked the corrupted blood, then carried malaria to others.

At the time, the academic world had been busy praising me for a brilliant insight.

And Archbishop Dormun had brought up that past.

“I heard that you said mosquitoes suck a patient’s blood and transfer that corrupted blood to others, which is how malaria spreads through an entire village. Thanks to that discovery, epidemic prevention in the southern regions was strengthened, and countless lives were saved. Yet now, are you trying to overturn that theory?”

The logic was simple.

Then what about your past?

Can you deny what you once said?

‘Hmm...’

People could not easily abandon what they had learned and achieved.

They would have to destroy everything they had built over a lifetime.

How many could accept that without hesitation?

The archbishop seemed to be aiming for exactly that.

Could I deny my own past?

An ordinary healer might have been quite flustered here.

But there was one thing Dormun did not know.

“Yes. I was wrong.”

I did not regret my past in the slightest.

I had known germ theory even when I presented on malaria.

I had simply put off proving it because it was troublesome, thinking I would reveal it later.

And there was one more thing.

I was still in my twenties.

I had more to accomplish ahead of me than I had accomplished already.

Ten years?

I could call it wasted effort if I had to.

I was only getting started.

“At the time, I was advocating incorrect knowledge.”

Dormun looked more startled by my calm admission.

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because unlike all of you, I have had to pay the harshest price every time I was wrong.”

“...?”

Archbishop Dormun tilted their head.

I slowly closed my eyes beneath the mask.

Then, apologizing inwardly for using people’s deaths to sell a lie, I continued.

“When I first began treating patients in Limbus Pit, I treated them based on humoral theory. But because I began with incorrect knowledge, I had to lose many people.”

That was not actually true.

There had been many people I could not save in Limbus Pit’s early days.

But it had not been because I treated them according to humoral theory.

The limitations of sanitary supplies, antibiotics, surgical equipment, and facilities.

For all those reasons, I had failed to save many patients whom I might otherwise have saved.

And now.

I was falsely presenting their deaths as the result of my ignorance.

With the excuse that this tragedy must not be repeated in the future.

“Unlike you, I have no power to perform miracles.”

Unlike them, I had no room for mistakes.

The moment I stitched a blood vessel wrong, the patient died.

There was no way to draw blood and replenish it afterward.

The moment I misdiagnosed someone and gave them the wrong medicine, there was no second chance.

They could make up for their mistakes with divine magic.

But my mistakes could only lead directly to failure and tragedy.

Whether that was a privilege or a curse, I did not know.

Perhaps that was why only I could discover germ theory in this world.

Unlike them, failure came to me in its rawest form.

“You all, no, my seniors, must have ways to make a feverish patient open their eyes again. But for my patients, once they developed a fever, that was the end.”

That was why all I had been able to do until now was manage hygiene obsessively.

This was a world without antibiotics.

Once sepsis set in, it was over.

All I could do was wash my hands with carbolic acid until they cracked and pour alcohol over them like mad.

And even then, one patient out of every thirty developed a fever.

Whenever that happened, I had to dwell on my helplessness and seek the healers’ help.

“For you, fever is something you can overcome with divine magic. But to me, it felt like unavoidable death. That is why I can say that I am more desperate than any of you in this field.”

I looked at Archbishop Dormun.

“You asked whether my past was wrong. Yes. I was wrong then. Malaria is transmitted not through bodily fluids, but through bacteria or parasites. Whether it is bacteria or parasites, we will have to research it again from the beginning.”

Dormun’s eyes widened.

Had Dormun not expected me to deny myself so completely?

“Does that answer your question?”

“...I understand.”

Archbishop Dormun returned to their seat, looking somehow dissatisfied.

After answering, I turned back to the audience.

The atmosphere, so noisy moments ago, had grown solemn.

It was not the atmosphere I had wanted.

“I will continue taking questions.”

This gloomy moment ended here.

I prepared for another round of defense.

‘Come at me.’

Today, I needed to settle things and make germ theory the accepted theory.

So I would answer every question here, leaving no room for needless talk afterward.

‘I need to make antibiotics and divine magic that can treat bacterial infections already.’

I needed to reveal this as soon as possible.

So that people who could have been saved would no longer die unjustly.

* * *

The presentation ended.

Making their way through the quietly murmuring audience, Erpen Adamberta and the others exited into the corridor behind the lecture hall.

The cold air of a late autumn night hung in the corridor.

Three disciples hurried after their master, unable to keep pace.

“Master.”

The middle-aged disciple at the front cautiously spoke.

“...What do you intend to do?”

Without stopping, Erpen glanced sideways with blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Germ theory. Archbishop Dormun clearly pointed out its contradictions today. More importantly, have you not prepared certain things separately over the past three months?”

Another disciple added, “If you use the next academic gathering to present them tomorrow, you should be able to put an end to this hypothesis...”

At the end of the corridor, a coachman held open the carriage door and waited for them.

Before climbing into the carriage, Erpen stopped and looked up at the gray sky.

After a long silence, Erpen slowly spoke.

“Burn it.”

“...Pardon?”

“Burn everything you prepared. The reagents, specimens, records. Dispose of it all.”

The disciples froze mid-step.

“M-Master?”

Erpen slowly turned toward them.

A faint, unfamiliar self-mockery filled those blue eyes.

“They were shameful three months. As soon as a junior scholar’s hypothesis appeared in the academic world, this old one did not first ask whether it was right or wrong. I first calculated what disgrace it would bring upon my three hundred years. Afraid that my bloodletting would be judged wrong, I first calculated how to destroy that hypothesis.”

The disciples fell silent.

“Blinded by self-preservation, I spent three months shamefully preparing only experiments that would forcibly refute those words. It was utterly disgraceful.”

The foremost disciple bit their lip.

“But it has been three months, Master. The cost of the reagents alone...”

“Yes. Three months.”

Erpen smiled gently.

“Must this old one spend the next several centuries living in shame because those three months seem too precious to discard?”

The disciples closed their mouths.

“Do not react so gravely.”

The old elf, who had lived for three hundred years, slowly placed a hand on the carriage step.

“The saint acknowledges their mistakes. How long can I drag those mere three hundred years behind me in such an ugly way? I am only human. I must face the fact that I can be wrong.”

A bitter smile appeared on the wrinkled face.

“Let us cover my three hundred years of ignorance with a new discovery. Prepare new experiments.”

“What experiments do you mean?”

“Perhaps bacteria may be found in blood. Let us look for bacteria in the blood of fever patients using the method the saint taught us. Whenever we performed bloodletting, our patients often developed fevers, did they not?”

Bloodletting was the act of drawing blood.

It removed poisons from the blood, then regenerated new, clean blood through divine magic.

In Julian’s words, Erpen’s bloodletting was something close to emergency dialysis.

However, because hygiene had been neglected, patients often developed fevers even after the toxins had been removed.

It was a problem that humoral theory could not explain.

But perhaps bacteria could explain those fevers.

“If bacteria in the blood are the problem, it would be good to study a way to prevent them together with the saint.”

“Yes, Master!”

The disciples looked at their master with moved eyes.

At the center of their gazes, Erpen gave a bitter smile and stepped onto the carriage footboard.

Then someone called out.

“Archbishop Erpen.”

“...Archbishop Dormun.”

The elven healer turned at the voice calling from behind.

A white-haired old person, older than Erpen, was watching.

Dormun spoke with a grave expression.

“Archbishop Erpen, I have something urgent to say.”

“Speak.”

“Germ theory is... an extremely dangerous theory. It may damage the Church’s prestige.”

At those words, Archbishop Erpen could only close their eyes tightly.

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