Hospital

Shaya and Sebas had not gone far. After turning through several blocks, they arrived outside a green-roofed building with a courtyard.

The building had two stories, and one side was lined with arches that revealed an open corridor within, where people dressed in black robes could be seen walking.

A highly conspicuous cross stood atop the roof.

A vertical sign hung from the pillar by the entrance, reading "Queen's District Central Hospital."

"I reckon the doctors here see me more often than I see them," Sebas remarked as he looked at the hospital sign.

"These quacks always manage to give me a fresh new experience."

"Is it that absurd?" Shaya asked curiously.

This should have been an officially established hospital. If even the doctors here were unreliable, it was hard to imagine what the rest were like.

"Do you know what the person I took away from here yesterday died of?" Sebas asked.

Shaya shook his head with a smile. "I don't have the Book of the Dead."

"He bled to death," Sebas said. "This hospital has a treatment where they cut open a vein or artery in the forearm or neck to let blood. From plague and smallpox to epilepsy and gout, they bleed you for anything.

"Honestly, if he hadn't come to the hospital, that fellow would have lived for another ten years or so."

Shaya nodded. He was not particularly surprised. This era was in the early stages of the First Industrial Revolution. Though it had come several decades early, its overall level was roughly equivalent to the eighteenth century.

At this time, Western medicine had mostly only three treatments: enemas, bloodletting, and inducing vomiting. The medicines they praised were mostly sulfur, saltpeter, mercury, lead, and the like.

It was only after the fruits of the Industrial Revolution gradually emerged, and antibiotics and bacteria were discovered, that things slowly began to change.

Yet bloodletting did not gradually fall out of favor until the middle of the nineteenth century.

"Compared to going to the hospital, people trust the folk remedies of witch doctors more," Sebas joked.

As they spoke, the two entered the hospital. Unlike the hospitals Shaya had visited in the past, there was no heavy smell of disinfectant. Instead, there was the pungent scent of strong medicinal herbs, floral fragrances mixed with the smell of blood.

The environment could not be called clean, either. The timber-framed walls were covered in mottled black stains, whether from medicinal herbs or something else, he could not tell.

Shaya even spotted cobwebs. Clearly, the cleaners did not concern themselves with the ceilings very often.

The clothes of the hospital staff moving back and forth in black robes—whether they were doctors or nurses—also bore obvious bloodstains and traces of herbs, as though they had not been washed in a long time.

People in this era should already have begun discovering traces of microorganisms, but clearly no one had applied such knowledge to medicine. Their sterilization methods were inadequate.

The bloodstains on these doctors might even have been regarded as symbols of experience.

Faint sobbing drifted through the corridor. Outside a ward not far away, a young woman in her twenties sat on a chair, covering her face as she cried.

Crying could also be heard from inside the ward, and against that faint scent of blood, it felt especially oppressive.

Yet the black-robed people passing by seemed long accustomed to it. They completely ignored the crying woman, cold and calm.

Looking at them, Shaya said with mild amusement, "Sebas, I think these people look more like Grim Reapers than you do."

"True. I haven't killed as many people as they have."

Sebas did not deny it. Lowering his voice, he spoke into Shaya's ear.

"I've heard some rumors. For just twenty pounds of silver, without attending a single class, you can get a medical degree or license to practice issued by Britannia's most prestigious universities or research institutions.

"Of course, whether it's true remains to be verified."

"The fact that such a rumor can spread is already absurd in itself," Shaya said.

That meant a considerable number of people believed it.

Sebas smiled. "Then I'll get to work first."

Shaya nodded.

But to Shaya's surprise, Sebas did not enter the ward directly. Instead, he walked straight toward the crying young woman, pulled a handkerchief from his coat, and handed it to her.

The young woman slowly raised her red, swollen eyes and looked at Sebas in confusion. Still, she accepted the handkerchief and wiped away her tears.

"Thank you."

Sebas sighed, raised a hand, and patted her shoulder.

"My condolences. Everyone must experience death at least once in life. Besides, he was already sixty-two. That was a long life. It is a very natural thing."

"I know, but... but..."

The young woman's eyes reddened again. Covering her face with the handkerchief, she sobbed.

"I thought he would stay with us for a few more years."

"Fate is like that," Sebas said. "But his death is only the death of his body. All the memories you shared with him will never disappear.

"As long as you remember him, he will live forever in your hearts."

Sebas's words seemed quite persuasive. The young woman wiped her eyes and looked at him.

"Thank you for comforting me. You truly are a gentleman."

Only then did Shaya confirm that Sebas had not come to reap the young woman's soul. He really was comforting her.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he watched the scene with great interest.

I didn't expect this guy to be so tender toward women, he thought.

Then Shaya heard Sebas say,

"You should collect yourselves now and think about how to arrange his funeral, so that he may walk the final stretch of his journey in this world with dignity and honor."

The young woman thought for a moment and nodded. "That is true."

Then a trace of confusion appeared on her face. "But I don't know what to do."

Sebas smiled, took a small card from his coat, and handed it to her.

"This is my business card. Please have a look."

The young woman accepted the card curiously. Shaya also used magic to look at the words written on it. His expression froze almost at the same time as hers.

It read:

Talos Funeral Services

Services: coffins, urns, mortuary cosmetics, customized funerals.

Address: 122c Cole Street

Sebas Tiatit

"I have provided services for many guests of this hospital." Sebas wore a professional smile and gave a slight bow. "They all gave me excellent reviews.

"Our establishment offers funeral services at many different price points. We guarantee that your loved one will depart in glory and dignity."

The young woman's mind was a little muddled. She could not reconcile the gentle, worldly gentleman from moments ago with the funeral salesman standing before her.

She rubbed her head. "I... I'll think about it."

"Talos will always welcome your visit." Sebas bowed politely.

Then he entered a ward to the side, though the young woman did not seem to notice.

A few minutes later, Sebas emerged from the ward and came over to Shaya.

"So the shop you opened in the Imperial Capital is a funeral service business?" Shaya asked.

"Yes." Sebas looked puzzled. "Is that strange?"

"No, it suits you perfectly. Or rather..."

Shaya teased, "Nothing is more competitive than a funeral service business run by a Grim Reaper."

"Even Grim Reapers have to eat." Sebas smiled. "The wages I earn in the Underworld are a terrible bargain when spent in the mortal world, but I need to spend money here too, so I can only earn it myself."

He said seriously, "You have no idea. Although this hospital is full of quacks, its treatment fees are genuinely not low. Those who can afford to be hospitalized and treated here...

"Generally aren't stingy about holding a grand funeral."

Shaya raised his brows and nodded.

They stayed in the hospital for a long time. Just as Sebas had said, the death rate here was truly not low.

Shaya felt that in this era, rather than asking what illness someone died from, it was better to ask which doctor's hands they died under.

It was not until after four in the afternoon that they finally left the hospital.

"It's not like this many people die every time," Sebas said with a strange expression. "It's just that Doctor Helens was especially energetic today."

Naturally, surgery in this era was nowhere near as precise as in modern society. The main operation was amputation.

But massive bleeding, pain, and wound infection during amputations could not be solved. This era had no anesthetics, no sterilization, no antibiotics, and did not even know about blood transfusions, so the doctors only knew how to cut, not how to heal.

Their usual procedure was to knock the patient unconscious first, quickly saw off the bad leg, then have the patient wake up screaming. Once the amputation was complete, the doctor would press a red-hot branding iron to the wound so the blood would clot rapidly.

Doctors did not perform surgery based on how steady their hands were. They only cared about "speed."

If an amputation dragged on, the patient either died from the pain or went into shock from excessive bleeding and insufficient blood volume.

Of course, some died from wound infections.

In short, the operation had to be completed before the patient regained consciousness.

Doctor Helens was a famous fast-handed surgeon, but his blade had been a little too fast today.

With one clean stroke, he severed the patient's lower limb. Because he used too much force, he also cut off one of the patient's testicles and two of his assistant's fingers.

And one spectator observing the surgery died of shock after witnessing the bloody scene. The patient died the next day.

According to Sebas, his assistant would also die from an infection caused by his severed fingers.

It was Shaya's first time seeing three people die from a single operation.

Of course, that was merely due to the limitations of the era.

This bloody-handed butcher—cough, cough, this benevolent Doctor Helens was still very dedicated. In order to save lives, he had performed thirteen surgeries without sleep or rest since yesterday, successfully snatching three people back from the hands of the Grim Reaper.

"Any more?" Shaya asked.

"Only one left."

Sebas turned and looked into the distance.

That was the direction of the imperial palace.