WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Haruto
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈
Chapter 86: Mistaken for a Criminal (1)
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* * *
Right after hearing my solution, the bishop tilted their head.
“How could that possibly solve the problem?”
The bishop had asked me to stop healers from leaving treatment centers.
But I had suddenly proposed building a treatment center where everyone could study equally.
Of course they did not understand the connection.
So I explained it step by step.
“Right now, healers are leaving their treatment centers because they want to learn my techniques, correct?”
“That is right.”
“Then rather than making the healers from those treatment centers come here to learn, we should train them properly from the Academy stage and send them to those treatment centers afterward.”
“Ah...!”
The existing treatment centers were comparable to primary and secondary hospitals in my previous life.
Their purpose was not to train healers.
Their main goal was merely to recruit Academy graduates, expand their denomination’s influence, and earn money.
That was why I wanted to build a tertiary hospital.
A system where healers could proceed directly from the Academy into residency training and emerge fully trained.
If we supplied those healers to treatment centers, they would no longer need to submit resignation letters in a relay just to learn from me.
After all, if they waited a few years, healers with fresh knowledge from the Academy would come to them.
The bishop seemed to understand.
“You mean they would observe treatments as Academy students, then undergo further training after graduation before entering society?”
“Exactly, Bishop.”
“Then what compensation should the Church offer for the saint’s knowledge...?”
“Compensation is unnecessary.”
“But...”
“The treatment center itself will be my compensation.”
Building a hospital was never cheap.
I could somehow manage the building costs with my own assets.
And if I begged the trading company for help, I could probably manage to hire staff as well.
But once it became a research-focused treatment center, the scale of the expenses changed completely.
Research was originally a money-devouring beast.
Without the Church’s support, I could never handle it alone.
“I want a place where students aspiring to become healers can learn equally, regardless of their status.”
“May I ask why you came to hold such a thought?”
“If I had trained disciples based on status, how could I have found a towering tree like this?”
My hand nearly reached out to stroke Ayla’s hair as she sat beside me, but I stopped.
I had almost patted her head without permission.
Instead of touching her, I pointed to Ayla.
“Not every sprout grows into a towering tree. But if you want to grow a towering tree, must you not water every sprout first?”
Medicine was ultimately labor-intensive work.
The more people available to save a single patient, the better.
This clinic itself was proof of that.
When I ran the clinic alone, stitching up faces was the limit, and I could only see around fifty patients a day.
But after other healers joined us, I could open skulls and cut into organs for the first time in a while.
The number of patients we could see each day was approaching one hundred.
So if I built a treatment center not bound to any denomination, perhaps I could perform even more surgeries.
Who knew?
Maybe someday I could even return to cardiac surgery, my original specialty.
“B-but then the saint gains nothing. At the very least, we should demand that the other treatment centers share their secret techniques with you...”
“The other treatment centers do not need to share their secret techniques with me.”
In fact, I would rather they did not.
I was not teaching healers indiscriminately out of charity.
The more they mastered my surgeries, the lighter my workload became.
But the greatest reason was that I wanted to monopolize highly skilled personnel.
‘Only I understand the power of open source in this era.’
The attitude toward knowledge in this era was still stuck around the eighteenth century at best.
People monopolized valuable knowledge and occasionally exchanged it through small academic societies or letters.
But having lived in the twenty-first century, I knew well that the strength of knowledge came not from monopolization, but from sharing.
If I alone released a particular tool or body of knowledge to the world, every healer in the world would have no choice but to become proficient in my methods.
Then I would only need to hire the best among them.
Eventually, I would no longer need to raise talent from scratch one person at a time.
In other words, now, when I had no competitors, was the perfect chance to make my methods the industry standard.
There was also the publicity effect.
While everyone else kept their knowledge tightly wrapped up, I alone would reveal mine.
That would make me look like I was at the forefront.
I would also gain an advantage in recruiting talent.
That was why I actually hoped the treatment centers would not share their knowledge.
‘This is only a temporary measure, though.’
This would stop the loss of personnel for now.
The treatment centers would be grateful to me.
But in the distant future, before they knew it, every world-class healer would be under my control.
This treatment center would be the foundation for that.
‘In the end, this is just buying at the bottom.’
The orphan gacha I had run in Limbus Pit.
The scholarship student gacha I had run in Civitas Square.
Dore, Charlotte’s first rival.
This treatment center project was an extension of all that.
A meticulous, secret plan to monopolize talent in the distant future without lowering the treatment centers’ favorability toward me.
“The treatment centers may keep their secret techniques. As I said, I only want this treatment center to be a place where every student in the Academy’s Healing Studies Department can observe treatments, and where every healer can apply regardless of denomination.”
“Saint...!”
Unfortunately, the guileless bishop seemed not to have noticed my evil(?) plan.
Instead, they clasped their hands as though I were some great sage.
“To think that beneath these dark clouds, there remains someone who erases their own name to ease the suffering of others. Perhaps the sun is not only in the sky after all.”
I smiled bitterly beneath my mask.
It was embarrassing when they praised me like that.
Even Ayla, who had remained frozen until just a moment ago, was staring at me with shining eyes.
“I will speak to the Church somehow.”
“Thank you, Bishop.”
* * *
After that day, I became slightly busy.
I frequently exchanged letters with the Church Holy See as we discussed establishing a neutral treatment center directly affiliated with the Academy.
[The Church Holy See says it will directly send healers once the treatment center is established.]
[Saint, there seems to be an error in the cost estimate you sent. At this scale, the treatment center would be the size of an entire village... What? You want it to be that large? Are you trying to build a treatment village rather than a treatment center?]
[The Empire, which manages the Academy fortress, has also readily agreed. They say they will provide the Academy grounds.]
There was one minor issue along the way.
It was deciding who would become the director of the treatment center.
I refused because I intended to work directly in the field, and apparently a fierce competition broke out between factions within the Church Holy See.
In the end, Cardinal Wendres, the most influential figure in healing arts, decided to take the position.
[Have you decided on the treatment center’s name as well?]
Of course I had.
Schnabel Treatment Center sounded awkward.
And Black Saint Treatment Center sounded ominous.
So the name I chose was...
“What about Maier Clinic?”
Maier.
It was the surname of our trading company president, Gustav Mayer.
Why Mayer of all people?
[Director? You are building a treatment center, and you want me to make a voluntary donation? Is this not the time to spread the name Gustav Mayer far and wide?]
As expected from someone with the temperament of a nouveau riche.
The moment I said it was an opportunity to advertise the name, Mayer donated the most.
Mayer invested slightly more than I did.
So in honor of that spirit, I named it Maier Clinic.
[Hoo ha ha! Build a top-floor suite as well! And a restaurant on the first floor!]
There were some strange expenses along the way.
But I did not stop Mayer.
Hospitals originally made money not from treatment fees, but from auxiliary facilities like funeral halls and parking lots.
Those facilities were necessary.
Anyway, the general establishment plan was set.
[They say it should be able to open around the year after next.]
Things were progressing more quickly than I expected.
Maybe because this was a world with magic and sturdy nonhuman races.
They said two years was enough to put up a building.
Of course, the enormous amount of capital involved probably helped too.
[Saint, could you tell us the phrase to be engraved on the main gate?]
Before construction truly began, I was to decide the inscription to place over the main gate.
I had already decided that too.
“Knowledge shall make you devout.”
Yes, that was right.
It was plagiarism.
But a doctor could not resist this.
Naturally, Cardinal Wendres on the other end of the communications device misunderstood again.
[As expected, even the meaning contained in a single sentence from the saint is exceptional. Even theologians who have studied scripture their whole lives would have to bow their heads before it.]
Putting aside the cardinal’s flattery, the plans to establish Maier Clinic were completed.
After finishing the discussion, I picked up another letter delivered by the head butler in my room.
[Sir Julian. The Black Magic Defense course has been established at the Academy. Once you submit a paper, I will appoint you as a professor immediately.]
It was a letter from Prince Edmund.
It seemed he had persuaded everyone, including the Noble Council, the Church, and the Magic Administration.
His ability to get things done really was remarkable.
‘Somehow, it looks like I’ll be living at the Academy outright.’
Julian Nihirit, professor of Black Magic Defense.
Doctor Schnabel, professor of Clinical Healing Studies.
Without meaning to, I had ended up leading a double life at the Academy.
‘Well, it will make creating alibis easier.’
Perhaps it was not entirely bad news.
The Academy’s Academic Division was originally located in a fortress some distance from the capital.
The Imperial Royal Eschenwald Academy.
Like the usual fantasy Academy story, the world’s greatest educational institution occupied an entire fortress.
While Julian worked there as a professor of black magic, I had been worrying about how Director Schun could establish an alibi.
But if Director Schun also became a professor, creating an alibi would become much easier.
‘It’ll be tiring, though.’
Still, that was the fate of a medical school professor anyway.
You saw patients in the morning and conducted research at night.
And occasionally gave lectures.
I would not be much different.
Besides, even in my previous life, I had wanted to become a professor knowing all that.
‘Then...’
Director Schun becoming a professor at the treatment center was decided.
All that remained was to write the paper I had put off.
To become a professor at Eschenwald Academy, I needed to submit at least one paper to the Arcane Olympiad.
‘I’ve finished gathering the data.’
I had gathered data whenever I had spare time since deciding to write a paper.
The research topic was “The Current State of Lead Poisoning in the Empire.”
The concentration of lead in the air, citizens’ blood lead levels, the prevalence of lead poisoning among spellcasters...
It was easy to obtain that kind of data.
Patients at the Merkuer Clinic provided the data themselves.
I only needed to add a little investigation.
‘If I organize the data first and begin writing the paper tomorrow...’
I might still be able to fit it into the schedule before this year’s Arcane Olympiad.
‘I should finish a paper that will make Master proud.’
Master would praise me too, for the first time in a while.
Since Master was the chief judge of the Arcane Olympiad, I would complete a paper of a quality that would make Master proud.
‘Then, the title should be...’
The most important thing in a paper was attracting attention.
Sadly, judges were people too.
If a paper’s title did not catch their eye, even a well-written paper could be buried.
There had been a professor like that at my school.
There was even a real case where the same paper received a different journal evaluation simply because the attention-grabbing title had been changed.
That professor had said it then.
In the end, scholars were no different from web novel authors or YouTubers.
In that sense, a catchy title was extremely important.
After much deliberation, I wrote the title.
‘<An Examination of the Theoretical Feasibility of Large-Scale Black Magic Brainwashing through a Population of Spellcasters Chronically Exposed to Lead>’
With this, the judges would certainly read it with interest.
They were spellcasters too, and they handled lead often.
The paper warned that they themselves could be brainwashed.
How could they possibly resist reading it?
‘All right. Now...’
Just as I roughly outlined the paper, a cheerful notification sounded from the crystal ball.
Ding-dong.
It was Wangcho.
“At this late hour?”
I turned on the crystal ball, tilting my head.
Had something serious happened?
Had something happened to the patients at the D-1 Clinic?
I activated the crystal ball with a nervous heart.
[D-Doctor.]
“Wangcho, what is it?”
[Well, um... Do you know bleach?]
I nodded.
Bleach.
It was a cleaning chemical I had developed while researching vaccines with Master in the past.
I developed it during breaks from vaccine research to clear my head.
Making it was easy.
When you lived in the twenty-first century, everyone had occasion to make bleach, right?
Just kidding.
But when you went to disaster sites for relief work, you often had to make bleach, so I naturally learned the recipe.
If you had facilities, you could make it by mixing chlorine gas and sodium carbonate.
And where even that was unavailable, passing electricity through salt water could make a crude bleach-like substance.
Honestly, those days had been exhausting.
That damned advisor.
He always said we were going overseas for training, then kidnapped me to disaster sites.
Of course, I learned a variety of trauma techniques there, and he bought me delicious food on the way back, so I got over my anger quickly.
Thinking about it now, perhaps he had intended to drag me into trauma surgery from the very beginning.
Anyway.
“What about bleach? Did you consume it?”
[N-no... I did not drink it.]
Wangcho shook his head.
Fortunately, he was not that much of an idiot.
When the trading company sold bleach, we had written clear warnings on it.
Do not put it into something like a watering can and spray it around.
Do not mix it with warm water.
Do not drink it.
Do not wash with it...
We had even established a company manual requiring employees to recite the warnings whenever someone bought it.
We wrote the warnings and drew pictures too, in case of illiteracy.
With large red X marks over everything.
“Then why are you suddenly bringing up bleach?”
[Well... bleach has been popular lately, has it not?]
“It has.”
Bleach had suddenly begun selling well.
Nobody bought it in the past.
Perhaps because this was still a world where concepts like bacteria and hygiene had not spread.
We released it, yet nobody looked for bleach.
Only then did I realize that to sell bleach, I first had to teach people about bacteria and the need for hygiene.
As a result, bleach had become known to the public as “Director Schun’s first failed product.”
I had simply reflected bitterly on my first failure and moved on.
But then bleach suddenly became fashionable.
The reason was healers.
“Bleach is an excellent catalyst for divine magic!”
Less divine power was consumed in rooms cleaned with bleach.
That rumor spread through the healers who had visited my clinic.
From that day onward, bleach abruptly became “holy water you could not drink.”
Nobody understood bacteria or hygiene.
But it started selling for superstitious reasons.
Bleach was cheap enough for even the poor to buy.
Residents of Limbus Pit also bought it and sprayed it around their homes.
Anyway.
Wangcho spoke hesitantly through the crystal ball.
[Well... I heard that you can wash food with bleach...]
That was true.
You could wash fruit and vegetables with diluted bleach.
It was done in the twenty-first century as well.
But the dilution had to be an extremely low concentration of around 0.002 percent.
It was only possible with certain vegetables that had firm skins.
And after washing them once, you had to rinse them thoroughly with water.
Unless you knew exactly what you were doing, the best option was to keep it away from food.
“Then did you not rinse it thoroughly with water?”
[It is not that...]
“?”
Why was he beating around the bush like this?
Wangcho rubbed his stomach and watched my reaction.
Then he spoke.
[I heard from a fruit shop owner that bleach could be used on food. Then today, one of my subordinates said it got rid of the smell of meat really well. And, well... you know how crazy I am about raw meat.]
“...Don’t tell me.”
Nod.
[I used a little, and my stomach happens to hurt a bit today.]
“You said you hadn’t consumed it.”
[Of course I did not consume bleach. I used a rather strong bleach solution on the meat, but...]
“Doesn’t that mean you consumed it?”
[I did not consume bleach. I rinsed the meat thoroughly and ate it.]
“...”
So.
He had poured undiluted bleach over meat to get rid of its smell?
And because he had diligently rinsed it with water afterward, he believed that meant he had not consumed bleach?
“...”
[I thought maybe I got sick from eating raw meat... Heh heh...]
Beyond the crystal ball.
Wangcho was grinning foolishly.
He truly believed the raw meat, not the bleach, had made him ill.
At that moment, my first meeting with Wangcho suddenly came to mind.
The king of D Sector, who had swallowed several gout pills containing colchicine at once and suffered explosive diarrhea.
I stared silently at that hyena beastfolk for a while and thought.
Was treating a bastard like this really the right thing to do from a eugenic perspective?
Author’s Note
Surprisingly, treating meat with bleach is a method that actually exists.
Of course, commercially sold meat is either already treated with extremely diluted bleach or processed through safer methods, so there is no need to do it again at home.
And even that is controversial, so it is not actually recommended.
To emphasize, bleach is only permitted for certain vegetables or fruit.
Even then, it merely can be used, not that it is recommended.
I looked it up, and there have apparently been cases of people actually using bleach at home to remove the smell of meat.
Amazing American
Footnotes:
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