WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 52: Entering High Society (5)

──────

* * *

After stopping Tina's convulsions, I checked once more that the IV line was not tangled, then sat in the chair beside the bed.

The countess stayed close to her child, looking down at the sleeping baby.

The baby clasped the countess's finger tightly in her little hand as the countess gazed at her with sorrowful eyes.

Feeling the warmth at her fingertips, the countess's expression gradually eased.

The count, Tina's father, was counting the spring raindrops outside the window.

The streaks of rain on the glass looked like tears he had shed, but I decided it was only my imagination and looked away.

Father was speaking with his aide in the hallway.

It seemed he intended to begin the investigation once the count and countess had calmed down.

In that brief lull, I opened my notebook and picked up my pen.

'I think I know the cause.'

I organized the children's symptoms in my head again.

Intermittent rigidity. Horizontal nystagmus. Hypertonia. Dilated pupils.

The external causes that produced symptoms like these had something in common.

They were substances used in rat poison.

It was only natural.

If a substance paralyzed the nervous system, it killed humans and rats by the same principle.

That was why potent neurotoxins had historically been used as rat poison or insecticides almost without exception.

Strychnine was the classic example, along with arsenic, thallium, and so on.

The rat poisons that had defined their eras had always been used to poison people as well.

Of course, rat poisons were eventually replaced by hemorrhagic poisons for the sake of efficiency.

Still, the history of rat poison had always been written in neurotoxins.

'Then how did the baby ingest a substance used in rat poison?'

There were three broad possibilities.

First, someone had handled rat poison in the kitchen and accidentally contaminated the food.

But that hypothesis had a problem.

It could not explain why only the children had been affected while the adults remained fine.

Rat poison would not selectively find its way into food for children.

So that hypothesis was rejected.

Second, someone might have secretly mixed poison into the food.

But that was unlikely as well.

According to Father's investigation, the six households did not share wet nurses or midwives, and they all ate different food.

There was a reason they had dismissed poisoning and suspected a curse.

That left the third possibility.

'Honestly, this is probably it.'

I had considered the third possibility from the beginning. There was hardly anything to deduce.

But doctors had to think based on evidence.

No matter how likely something seemed, you could not reach a conclusion without evidence.

So I needed proof.

'It'll be faster to check the kitchen myself.'

I closed my notebook and stood.

"Count."

The count, who had been standing by the window, turned around.

"Since Tina has only just recovered, I think it would be best to be careful with her food for a while. If you allow it, I can inspect the food in the kitchen and identify anything she must avoid."

"...Is food that important?"

"After convulsions, infants have little strength in their muscles, so their ability to swallow becomes extremely weak. In the worst cases, food can become lodged in their throats."

That was true as well.

All food that could become lodged in the throat, including peanuts, was prohibited for infants immediately after convulsions.

The count seemed to find my words reasonable and granted permission at once.

"Thank you. I will assign a maid to you."

The count called over a maid and pointed at me.

"Guide this gentleman to the kitchen. Show him whatever he needs."

"Yes, my lord."

I took my medical bag and followed the maid out of the room.

When Father, who was standing in the hallway, asked where I was going, I told him I was checking on the baby's diet.

I followed the maid down to the first floor.

The kitchen of House Bellheim was spacious.

It was about twice the size of ours, and it even had a modern oven.

I wanted to try cooking in a place like this.

Naturally, I did not forget my position.

Suppressing my rising urge to cook, I inspected every corner of the kitchen.

First, I checked where the rat poison was kept.

"Do you keep rat poison in this kitchen?"

"No. Since the baby was born, the countess ordered all rat poison removed from the kitchen."

"Then where is it stored?"

"In the basement storeroom. It is on a different floor from the kitchen."

As expected, the first hypothesis was eliminated.

Everyone knew, regardless of the era, that eating rat poison was dangerous.

Next, I checked the food fed to the baby.

"Could you show me what the child eats?"

The maid opened a cupboard and began placing the ingredients on the counter one by one.

Barley flour, honey, distilled water, and dried chamomile flowers in a small ceramic jar.

"Ingredients for barley gruel and honey tea."

"Yes."

"Hm. The honey has nothing to do with this incident, but do not feed honey to the child until after she turns one."

"What? Is honey dangerous?"

"Yes. Honey can be poisonous to children. Please make sure the count knows that as well."

"Understood, doctor."

There was honey, but it had nothing to do with this incident.

Honey could kill babies too, but its symptoms were entirely different.

Tina's symptoms involved hypertonia, where her muscles had become excessively rigid.

Symptoms caused by honey involved hypotonia, where the muscles lost their strength.

In other words, it was unrelated to this case.

"Is this everything the child eats?"

"Pardon? Yes, for now..."

"Does the child take any special medicine?"

"Hm... If it's medicine, the head maid would know."

The head maid.

That probably meant the person who spent the most time with the baby.

"Could you call the head maid?"

A short while later, a woman who appeared to be in her forties came down to the kitchen.

As befitted a head maid, she was neatly dressed and had sharp eyes.

"I heard there is medicine given to the child."

"Yes. There is a medicine we use whenever our young lady suffers from stomach cramps."

I knew it.

Colic.

That was what this world called infantile colic.

Infantile colic was not a particularly serious condition.

It was when a newborn cried as though in agony every night for no particular reason. It usually went away on its own after four months.

It required no special treatment. All you had to do was encourage the parents to endure it a little longer.

And I knew the medicine used for infants with colic.

"Have you been using star anise?"

"Oh? How did you know?"

"Is the count originally from the western or eastern part of the Empire?"

"The west."

"I see. It is also used in the west as a substitute for anise, which is often given to babies there."

"Yes, that is right!"

The head maid looked at me with astonished eyes.

For the first time in a while, I felt my shoulders rise with pride.

Lately, everyone around me had started reacting as if this much were only natural, so deduction had lost some of its appeal.

'This is why I do deduction.'

In any case, I had completely figured out what had happened.

Star anise.

This was the culprit.

'No doctor would fail to recognize star anise.'

There had been a similar case in Europe in the early 2000s.

This was what had happened.

In Europe, especially Spain, there had originally been a folk remedy where babies with colic were given boiled anise.

Then, at some point, cheaper Chinese star anise with a similar scent replaced anise.

The problem was that Westerners did not know there were two kinds of star anise.

Chinese star anise, used as a spice.

And Japanese star anise, or toxic star anise, used only as rat poison.

Once dried and crushed, the two could not be distinguished by sight.

Merchants from a certain country who supplied Chinese star anise took advantage of this.

To lower costs, they secretly replaced Chinese star anise with Japanese star anise.

As a result, newborns throughout Europe were collectively poisoned by rat poison.

The aftermath had been severe enough to change pediatric textbooks.

Do not use strange folk remedies for infantile colic. Just reassure the parents.

It was an illness that got better on its own, so there was no need to feed babies strange things.

'Doctors, especially pediatricians, could not possibly not know about it.'

It was an incident that changed textbook content.

It was such a major event that it was underlined in toxicology textbooks too.

Any doctor practicing at the time would have known.

Well, younger doctors might not know.

...Come to think of it, I was a young doctor. Damn it.

In any case.

The same thing was happening in this world.

I bowed to the head maid.

"Thank you. You have been a great help. Please focus the child's diet on breast milk and barley gruel, leave out honey for the time being, and stop giving star anise tea until I tell you otherwise."

"Star anise tea as well? Why...?"

"Right after convulsions, digestive function is weakened, so it is safest to remove anything that might be irritating."

It was not a lie.

I simply had not told her everything.

Even if it was not toxic star anise, ordinary star anise would burden a baby who had just suffered convulsions.

When the head maid nodded, I left the kitchen.

As I climbed the stairs, I thought to myself.

'I found the culprit.'

Star anise was the cause. I even had a rough idea of how it had been distributed.

But the problem came after that.

How was I supposed to tell the parents?

'This count's family is relatively fortunate.'

Their baby had survived.

If they learned the truth, their hearts would sink, but that would be the end of it.

But what about the other five families who had already lost children?

'The tea you brewed killed your child.'

Would any parent accept those words?

They would probably drag it into factional conflict instead.

Because they could not accept that they were guilty, they would rationalize it by insisting there must have been a curse.

Otherwise, they would not be able to bear it.

'How am I supposed to convey this?'

What I lacked at a time like this was authority.

It was something Julian, who had only just entered high society, and Father, who was merely a Baron, did not possess.

'I should tell Father first, at least.'

How to handle the truth would be up to him.

As I entered the second-floor hallway with those thoughts in mind, the sound of several people climbing the stairs rose from below.

A servant's voice rang out.

"The inspector has arrived."

The inspector.

The same inspector Father had mentioned at breakfast.

Because a sixth victim had appeared so suddenly, the inspector had arrived later than us after coming from the Imperial Palace.

Father emerged from the far end of the second-floor hallway.

He looked once toward the stairs, then at me, and gave a brief nod.

It meant I should greet the inspector with him.

I stood beside Father.

Creak, creak.

The footsteps climbing the stairs drew closer, and two shadows fell across the hallway.

The first to appear was a man in his mid-fifties.

His gray hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a black coat bearing the insignia of an inspector.

His bulging forearms were marked by countless scars.

"Magistrate Hendel. You arrived first."

"The child had to come first."

Father shook the inspector's hand and bowed.

Seeing Father bow first, the inspector appeared to hold a much higher position.

That was only natural.

An inspector's main duties were investigating noble corruption and mediating disputes between nobles.

Naturally, just anyone could not do such work, so an inspector's authority rivaled that of a marquis's house.

"I understand. So, what of this child?"

"My son saved her."

"That child?"

The inspector's gaze turned toward me.

I bowed politely.

"Julian Nihirit."

The inspector stroked his chin and looked me up and down.

He seemed interested.

"You accomplished what three healer priests could not?"

"I was fortunate."

The corner of the inspector's mouth rose slightly.

"Modesty is the virtue of the incompetent and the vanity of the capable. Which is it for you?"

"I believe that is for history to judge, not me."

"Hah. I like that answer."

The inspector gave a soft laugh.

Then he turned and gestured behind him.

"Come in."

One more person climbed the stairs.

The figure hidden behind the inspector was a girl around my age.

The first thing that caught my eye was her golden hair.

Her gold hair, as though a wheat field had been pressed into it, was tied with a sky-blue ribbon.

The girl wore a navy cape.

The clothes visible beneath it belonged to a noble young lady, but they had been simplified for practicality.

The first thing that came to mind when I saw her was...

'A detective?'

Yes. Calling it a classic detective outfit would be appropriate.

If she were puffing on a pipe, she would make the perfect great detective with some sort of mental illness.

Her eyes scanned the small notebook in her hands before turning toward me.

Golden eyes lazily looked me over.

Then the girl spoke.

"What sort of patients are common in D Sector of Limbus Pit?"

......

The hallway fell silent.

The inspector pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Charlotte, have I not repeatedly told you not to begin introductions like that?"

The inspector placed a hand on Charlotte's shoulder and gave me a small bow.

"My apologies, young master Nihirit. My child is a little unusual."

"It is nothing."

Despite the inspector's apologetic look, I shook my head.

I felt that I could tell what kind of character this girl was at a glance.

I had suspected as much from the moment I heard her name was Charlotte and saw her detective outfit.

So her opening question did not particularly fluster me.

Instead, I smiled at her.

"Did I leave some trace on myself? As a doctor, I take pride in washing thoroughly."

A light entered the girl's sleepy eyes.

Her eyes widened slightly as well.

"...Most people are offended when I do that upon first meeting them."

"Why would I be offended?"

"Because our family is a family of inspectors. They think their information has leaked, or that they have been investigated. Or they think they have been spied on with magic."

"Well, I see it differently."

I rolled up my sleeve as I spoke.

"Observation and deduction taken to extremes are no different from prophecy. So, you must have deduced that I am a healer from what Father just said. Did you deduce that I work in Limbus Pit from the difference in color between the back of my hand and my palm?"

"Remarkable. I assumed you were merely a healer who went down to Limbus Pit. Do you have another occupation as well?"

"No, not quite. I do similar work. I read the traces left on a patient's body and find illnesses that cannot be seen. Our methods are the same, so is it really surprising?"

The girl's face brightened.

Her sleepy eyes were now sparkling.

"You must be a skilled healer."

"It is nothing special. So, my lady, was my guess correct?"

The moment I finished speaking, she began laying out her deductions as though she had been waiting.

"Yes. First, the difference in color between the backs of your hands and your palms, which you mentioned. There is reddish-brown to yellowish-brown pigmentation on your neck and the backs of your hands. Pigmentation this severe cannot appear from Sanctum Hill's air. It only appears if you regularly go beyond the Red Copper Wall, and deep into those areas at that."

"But I wash my hands often. I wear a mask as well."

"That is why only those two areas were a different color."

Her gaze then moved to the tips of my shoes.

"I deduced D Sector from the animal fat stuck to your shoes."

"Ah, the color of my shoe welts has changed."

"That is right. You likely visit slaughterhouses often, so blood and fat have built up there."

"Certainly. No matter how often you polish shoes, traces like that tend to remain in the seams of the welts. Excellent deduction, Miss Charlotte."

The young lady smiled at my praise.

"It is only basic, young master Nihirit."

"Yes. Basic deduction."

At my reply, she smiled softly and offered her hand.

I took her delicate hand.

"I am Julian Schnabel Nihirit."

"I am Charlotte von Hausen."

Surprise filled the inspector's eyes as he watched us.

"Good heavens... Charlotte offered a handshake first."

Seeing her earlier greeting and reaction, I could roughly tell what kind of character this young lady named Charlotte was.

The name Charlotte Hausen.

Her ability to read the traces left on someone's body the moment they met.

Her social skills, poor enough to make an inspector react like that.

Anyone experienced with web novels would have no choice but to recognize which character she was based on.

'What on earth was the original supposed to be?'

Mixing magic with punk, and adding medicine, was one thing.

But Sherlock Holmes too?

'The character placement in this misunderstanding story is a work of art.'

Then here was the question.

The protagonist of the original, meaning me, was a doctor character.

And the girl before me was based on Sherlock Holmes.

Then, by the conventions of the genre, what was my role?

'So I was Watson.'

That confirmed what kind of character the original Julian Schnabel had been.

'Naturally, the protagonist of a misunderstanding story should be an ordinary citizen.'

A doctor of average skill, as diligent as the average doctor, and someone who liked gambling a little.

Other than the last part, he was not all that different from me now.

Author's Note

The European infant star anise tea mass poisoning incident.

It is more famous than you might think.

Its impact was so great that all star anise spices and Chinese spices entering the EU were allowed in only after thorough inspections using methods such as gas chromatography.

For reference, the part about pediatric textbooks is somewhat exaggerated for dramatic effect. Guidelines for infantile colic did not change solely because of this incident. Rather, problems caused by this and other folk remedies accumulated until they eventually reached a breaking point.

Please consider it the kind of dramatic exaggeration common in web novels.

Footnotes:

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried