WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Haruto
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◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈
Chapter 58: The Ball of the Stars (4)
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In the past, I had not been very confident when it came to obstetric and gynecological conditions.
At the time, I had only recently begun working in that field.
But I had now been caring for mothers in Limbus Pit for seven years.
I was not quite at the level of an obstetrics and gynecology professor, but I was confident enough to call myself a specialist anywhere.
So the moment I heard that the princess consort had suffered four consecutive miscarriages,
“May I ask where Her Highness the Princess Consort is right now?”
there was nothing strange about my mouth moving on its own.
“Pardon? Lord Julian? Why are you suddenly asking that...?”
“I was reminded of other patients I have been helping with something similar.”
Miscarriage was a tragedy that could happen to anyone.
It could be caused by stress, or perhaps it was simply bad luck.
But once miscarriages happened twice or more, it became a different matter.
Recurrent miscarriage.
That was the diagnosis given when spontaneous miscarriage occurred two or more times.
Once recurrent miscarriage had been diagnosed, it became necessary to look for an underlying condition in the mother.
So I began asking the startled young nobles more specific questions about the princess consort's symptoms.
“Ah, before that. Could you tell me more about Her Highness the Princess Consort?”
“More specifically...?”
“At what stage did Her Highness usually lose the pregnancy? Was it before her belly began to show, or after?”
“Um... I think it happened just after her belly began to show a little.”
From what the young lady of House Heide said, it was closer to a second-trimester miscarriage.
That made chromosomal or hormonal problems less likely.
Those mainly occurred during early pregnancy.
That narrowed the possibilities considerably.
‘Cervical insufficiency, a uterine malformation, or an autoimmune disease.’
If it had happened four times in a row, one of those was likely.
Any of them were conditions I could handle.
After all, I had treated them several times in the Red-Light District.
“Will Her Highness the Princess Consort be attending the banquet today as well?”
Freya answered.
“Yes, Brother. I heard she will be entering together with His Highness the Prince.”
“Together?”
“The Founding Festival is also an occasion to show that the imperial family remains well. Even if Her Highness the Princess Consort is unwell, it would be difficult for her to miss this event.”
“Is that so?”
Perhaps she sensed something in my reaction.
Eri looked at me with half-lidded eyes.
“Teacher... no, young master. Don’t tell me you think you know what’s wrong just from hearing that?”
“Hmm. I think I have about a fifty-percent idea.”
“As expected. Compared with your usual patients, how difficult do you think this one is?”
By usual patients, she meant patients from Limbus Pit.
She must have phrased it that way because there were so many people listening nearby.
“If my guess is right, the difficulty is low to moderate. It will not be particularly difficult compared to that patient we saw two months ago.”
“What? So it’s nothing special. Do you need me?”
“It is unlikely, but tell me if you sense anything strange from the princess consort.”
Infection was probably not a possibility.
Even infections rarely caused repeated miscarriages at such a consistent point in pregnancy.
Still, just in case, I gave Eri a heads-up.
Perhaps Charlotte had been curious about Eri's reaction.
Charlotte, who had remained silent until then, spoke.
“You can tell something just from hearing that? Did I miss something?”
“This is neither a problem nor a case, Lady Charlotte. It is not good to make a game of a sick patient.”
Charlotte slumped.
Her blond hair seemed to lose some of its shine.
Then it happened.
A fanfare rang through the banquet hall.
Every conversation stopped at once, and hundreds of pairs of eyes turned toward the entrance.
The master of ceremonies' voice filled the entire hall.
“His Highness Edmund Eschenwald, the Twelfth Prince of the Empire, and Her Highness the Princess Consort now arrive!”
The master of ceremonies cried out louder than ever, straining his throat with all his might.
As I wondered whether I should give him a lemon honey candy later,
the great doors at the entrance opened.
Two Imperial Guard knights entered first, followed by a young man who had changed out of his military uniform and into formal attire.
The Twelfth Prince, Edmund.
The young man with neatly combed brown hair clearly came from a military background.
His left hand did not move as he walked. It seemed to be because he was accustomed to always resting it on the hilt of his sword.
“He is right-handed. He is not moving his left hand because he is used to always carrying a sword.”
Charlotte voiced the same deduction beside me.
Everyone's attention was fixed on the prince.
But among them, I alone looked not at the prince, but at the woman behind him.
She followed half a step behind the prince.
A silver-gray dress, with a lace collar rising to her neck.
My gaze began at her face and quickly swept down the princess consort's body.
‘Mottled purple spots in a net pattern above the collarbone, confirmed.’
There were purplish spots.
She had apparently tried to hide them as much as possible with makeup and her lace collar, but they were too large to conceal completely.
Next, I noticed the hand wearing a ring.
‘Her fingers are slightly swollen.’
Subtle edema, enough for the ring to bite into her finger.
The likelihood of an internal medical condition rose further.
Lastly, I checked with Eri.
“What do you think? Anything strange?”
“No? She looks fine.”
“As expected. It is not an infection or a blood-forming problem.”
Our expensive bone marrow checking device, Eri, had confirmed that it was not one of those problems.
That alone was practically enough to make the diagnosis eighty percent certain.
But I wanted to increase the odds.
‘I want to ask about her urine, but...’
I wanted to check for foamy urine.
But my social skills were not broken enough to ask that in the middle of a party.
I at least knew that asking something like that would send me straight to the guillotine.
So, with Charlotte's help, I decided to check for another symptom.
“Lady Charlotte. Are you planning to greet them?”
Charlotte, who had been gloomily poking at her sorbet after I said it was an illness rather than a case, raised her head.
“Pardon? Ah, yes. It would be improper to only give them a gift.”
“Then when you present the gift and briefly greet Her Highness the Princess Consort, please offer her the coldest drink possible.”
“Is that necessary?”
“It is necessary for the diagnosis.”
“Understood.”
Life returned to Charlotte's face, which had been downcast moments ago.
“Then you will have to tell me about the diagnostic process.”
“It is not knowledge Lady Charlotte needs.”
“But I can learn from how you observe things.”
“If that is the case... all right.”
Charlotte set down her spoon and stood.
She immediately linked arms with me.
Hmm. It was not quite as full as I had expected.
It was not nonexistent, but compared to Eri, it felt lacking.
With that irreverent thought in mind, we joined the line to present gifts to the imperial couple.
“Let us go, my fiancé.”
She somehow seemed excited.
Probably because tracking down an illness felt like tracking down a criminal to her.
Gift presentations began with the lower-ranking houses.
Thanks to Charlotte, we were treated on par with a marquessal house, so we stood at the end of the line.
Baronets, barons, viscounts...
Each young lady and young master placed their carefully prepared gifts before the prince.
Rare herbs, magical stone crafts, exquisitely made jewelry.
The children of every house showed the greatest sincerity they could afford with their allowances.
Charlotte glanced at those gifts and whispered.
“Isn't the gift we are giving too excessive?”
“Who knows.”
Charlotte probably wanted to say that the gun we were giving was an invasive species among these gifts.
But if my diagnosis was correct, the gift we would give would be far more remarkable than any gun.
“Thank you.”
“Hmm... Baron Eidel... I shall remember you.”
“Yes, you have done well.”
At the head of the line,
the Twelfth Prince gave the same reply every time.
His voice was polite but unfeeling.
He had lost four children and was about to be forced to break off his engagement with the person he loved. It was understandable.
The princess consort's smile beside him was also gradually falling apart as time passed.
As I quietly observed this, it became our turn.
“Lady Charlotte Hausen of House Hausen, Marquessate, and Lord Julian Schnabel of the baronial House of Nihirit.”
At the master of ceremonies' announcement, we approached the prince.
Charlotte offered her greetings first.
The angle at which she bent her waist, the position of her fingers holding her dress hem, even the timing with which she raised her eyes.
Everything was flawless.
As expected, this person really could do it when she wanted to.
“On behalf of House Hausen, we offer a gift prepared in the hope of Your Highness's health and victory in battle.”
Charlotte signaled to an attendant.
The attendant brought forward the gun I had prepared.
When the long gun case wrapped in red silk opened, the Twelfth Prince's eyes changed.
A custom firearm made for hunting magical beasts.
Its mana-conductive barrel was plated in gold, and its stock was decorated with silver thread.
Ten bronze magic bullets lay neatly in a separate compartment, each one worth as much as an ordinary knight's monthly salary.
At the appearance of a gift no man could resist, even the prince, who had remained expressionless until now, had the corners of his mouth twitch.
“...It is truly a fine item.”
Of course it was.
I had spent a week's income from selling vaccines and insulin to buy it.
“It seems House Hausen has a larger allowance than I do.”
The Twelfth Prince gave a bitter smile.
We did not bother correcting that misunderstanding.
“Since I have received such a fine gift, let us speak for a moment. I have had few opportunities to form ties with House Hausen.”
When the Twelfth Prince signaled to an attendant, two chairs were quickly brought over.
It was courtesy paid to a marquessal house.
Unlike other families, we would exchange a brief conversation to preserve House Hausen's dignity.
Of course, it was also thanks for the expensive gun.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Charlotte naturally took her seat. I sat beside her.
Up close, the princess consort's condition was even clearer.
The dark circles beneath powder were the first thing I saw, and the color in her lips created with rouge was far from a healthy red.
The effort it took to maintain her smile suggested that merely being here was an ordeal.
I had seen that face dozens of times in the Red-Light District.
The face of a mother who lost her child before she could hold them in her arms was no different in the Imperial Palace than in D Sector.
Perhaps the prince was aware of the princess consort's condition as well, because he continued to check on her from the corner of his eye.
Then Charlotte spoke to the princess consort.
“Your Highness the Princess Consort, have you become thirsty from sitting for so long? Would you like a drink?”
“Thank you, Lady Hausen. I have been a little thirsty, actually.”
The princess consort nodded with a strained smile.
Charlotte signaled to an attendant.
The attendant brought a champagne glass set over ice.
Condensation covered the surface of the glass. Anyone could see that it was a cold drink.
But Charlotte did not stop there.
“Congel.”
Charlotte recited a chant in a voice so quiet that only I could hear it.
After cooling the glass another degree, she handed it to the princess consort.
The princess consort accepted it.
Then her slender, pale fingers wrapped around the cold glass.
Holding their glasses in one hand, Charlotte and the princess consort continued their small talk.
Thirty seconds passed.
‘Good. Just as expected.’
The moment the princess consort set the glass down on the table,
I noticed her fingertips had turned white.
Raynaud phenomenon.
A symptom in which the tips of the fingers or toes turn white due to cold or psychological changes.
It was also common in autoimmune diseases such as rheumatic conditions.
I put everything together.
‘Four consecutive recurrent miscarriages. Purple spots above the collarbone. Swollen fingers. And Raynaud phenomenon.’
At this point, I had a good idea.
It was such a textbook list of symptoms that any doctor would recognize them regardless of specialty.
‘It has to be ninety percent certain.’
Of course, I would need tests to fill in the remaining ten percent.
I would need to perform a Wassermann test, a clotting time test, and a urine protein test.
But,
‘I cannot resist the presentation.’
A doctor confidently making a declaration through deduction alone before conducting any tests.
It was too much like Sherlock Holmes to resist.
Though that Sherlock was right beside me.
Wouldn't the misunderstanding-story effect take care of the rest?
That was how I had lived until now, and it had worked out well.
‘Let’s go.’
I decided to make another big move.
I took a breath, steadied myself, and spoke.
“...Seeing this gun reminds me of when I caught that fellow in the south last time.”
“Your Highness.”
“What is it, Lord Nihirit?”
“The truth is, this isn't the only gift I prepared.”
The Twelfth Prince's hand stopped on the gun barrel.
“I have separately prepared a gift for both Your Highness and Her Highness the Princess Consort.”
Curiosity appeared in the Twelfth Prince's eyes.
One gun was already an impressive enough gift, yet there was more?
That seemed to be his thought.
“Huh. I know House Hausen has a large allowance, but what else have you prepared?”
There was anticipation in his voice.
He sounded as though he expected me to produce a transforming combining robot.
In contrast, the princess consort did not seem very interested.
What could a gift mean to someone for whom simply sitting here was an ordeal?
I smiled as I took in the excited man and the indifferent woman in a single glance.
“I will give both of you cause for celebration.”
“...Cause for celebration?”
The Twelfth Prince tilted his head slightly.
He looked as though he had not immediately understood what context those words carried.
So I said it directly.
“I mean to give you a child.”
The Twelfth Prince froze, as though time itself had stopped.
The princess consort's indifferent eyes wavered for the first time.
The reactions of the two attendants standing behind the Twelfth Prince were also a sight to behold.
One began trembling as they held their tray, while the other looked at the person beside them as though doubting their own ears.
And the young ladies and young masters seated nearby, who had been listening to us, stared at me with their mouths hanging open as if their jaws might drop.
At the center of all those gazes,
only Charlotte looked at me with an expression of delighted interest.
Author's Note
An important announcement.
After deep internal discussion between my left brain, right brain, and hypothalamus, I have decided to change the title of this work.
Starting tomorrow, the title will change from [I Was Mistaken for a Saint in a Dark Fantasy] to [What a Doctor Can Do in a Dark Fantasy].
The reason is that I was shocked when someone who read it thought it was a religious story after seeing the original title... Yes. That is the reason.
Please continue to give the story lots of love and attention.
Footnotes:
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