Dungeon, Prince, Prisoners, and Science

The dungeon was dark, damp, and cold. The air was thick with the stench of rot and human sweat, enough to make anyone gag.

Oil-soaked torches were mounted every few meters along the dungeon's moss-covered walls. They burned with a crackling "pop, pop," and, because the air barely circulated and oxygen was scarce, they gave off black smoke from incomplete combustion. The smoke cast one distorted, frightened shadow after another across the ground. "Drip, drip." Droplets condensed on the dungeon ceiling and fell without pause, landing on a guard's head, gradually soaking his hair and cheeks before finally running down his neck, icy cold. Yet the guard did not dare move an inch. Every muscle in his body was taut, like a dragoon's lance planted in the ground. He struggled to keep his breathing steady, but the corner of his eye kept drifting toward the dungeon entrance.

At the entrance, a youth—fifteen or sixteen years old—walked in with a blank expression, dressed in noble clothes that were somewhat too plain. Behind him, the captain of the dungeon guards trailed along obsequiously, a smile plastered across his face while his eyes brimmed with unease and fear. He could not help being afraid. The youth was the King's youngest son, second in line to inherit the throne after the First Prince. If the other party was displeased in the slightest, he could lose his head at any moment.

Thinking of this, the guard captain grew even more tense, and his expression became somewhat stiff. Richard, however, paid little attention to the captain's demeanor. He had been in this world, one resembling the Middle Ages, for fifteen years. His extraordinary mental resilience allowed him to fully adapt to his identity and understand how to most efficiently achieve his goals, and thus unravel one ultimate doubt of his.

"Tap, tap, tap." As Richard walked deeper into the dungeon, he said to the guard captain, "I previously ordered you to lead men in capturing wizards, or people connected to spells and abnormal supernatural phenomena, for me to study. You have carried out the order twice already, yet both times you failed. You merely grabbed a group of ugly farmers to make up the numbers. This is the third time. Are you certain you have really caught one? My patience is limited."

"Prince, this time... this time..." Sweat instantly broke out on the guard captain's forehead. His Adam's apple bobbed several times before a stiff voice emerged from his throat. "This time... this time, I guarantee we caught one for real."

"And what about compensation for the soldiers?" Richard asked.

"Hm?" The guard captain froze. "Compensation? What compensation?"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Do not tell me you pocketed all the compensation money for the dead and wounded soldiers yourself. If that is what you did, I might actually admire your courage."

"No!" The guard captain's eyes widened as he realized what Richard meant. He stammered, "P-Prince, there were no casualties."

"Hm? No casualties? Your soldiers suffered no casualties at all while capturing people connected to supernatural phenomena?"

"That is right, not a single one," the guard captain said seriously.

"Uh, fine." Richard already had a certain guess in mind. Letting out a breath, he said, "Then tell me what you captured this time."

"Yes, Prince." The guard captain steadied himself and answered earnestly, "This time, we captured four in total: a White-Faced Demon, a Halfling, a Vampire, and one more..."

"Tap, tap... tap!"

After a while, Richard stopped before a cell deep within the dungeon and narrowed his eyes at a figure inside. The skin on the other party's face was an unnatural snow-white, utterly bloodless and exceptionally terrifying. He sat on the floor of the cell, looking over with frightened, uneasy eyes.

The guard captain spoke up, afraid Richard had failed to notice. "Prince, this is the White-Faced Demon we captured. Look..."

Richard merely glanced at him and continued forward.

The guard captain froze, unable to understand why Richard showed no interest, but he still shrank his neck and hurried after him.

Soon, Richard stopped for a second time. In the cell beside him, a strange figure was curled up in the corner. The other party's face was full of wrinkles, making him look well over fifty, but he was less than a meter tall, like a child. The sight gave people an instinctively eerie feeling.

The guard captain explained, "Prince, this is a Halfling..."

Before he could finish, Richard shook his head and walked onward again before stopping.

The third cell held a human who looked like a monster. He was pale, and the exposed skin on his face, neck, and hands was covered in red blotches. Some parts had even begun to rot away. His mouth hung slightly open, revealing teeth that seemed unusually long and an eerie blood-red color, enough to send chills down one's spine.

"P-Prince." The guard captain pointed at the person in the third cell, clearly nervous. "This is a Vampire. You must be careful and not let him hurt you."

"Heh." Richard's voice was cold.

"Prince, you..."

Richard said, "An albino, a dwarf, and a porphyria patient. Those are the White-Faced Demon, Halfling, and Vampire you captured?"

"Well..."

"Do you have any knowledge of biology at all?! Fine, I forgot. There is no such thing as biology in the Middle Ages, but that is no excuse! Think with your brain for a moment and you should understand. If they really were a White-Faced Demon, a Halfling, and a Vampire, could you have captured them so easily? When your soldiers caught them without suffering a single casualty, should you not have realized something was wrong? Did you learn nothing from the previous two failures?"

"Uh, well..."

"Forget everything else. Take the Vampire. Did you see him transform into a bat like in the legends? Or fly?"

The guard captain's body trembled. The next moment, he forced himself to gather his courage. "Prince, I truly did not see this evil Vampire transform into a bat or fly, but his skin really cannot be exposed to sunlight. The moment it sees sunlight, it rots. Look at him now—he is like this because he was exposed to sunlight on the way here.

"When I led men to capture him, he was drinking blood, and he also hates garlic. If that is not a Vampire, then what is? Prince, he is undoubtedly a Vampire!"

"However, he merely has porphyria," Richard said expressionlessly.

"Ah?" The guard captain was stunned.

"In other words, he is just a patient. Everything you saw was a symptom caused by his illness. Though it resembles the Vampires of legend, it is... not the same thing."

"W-why?" The guard captain was full of confusion.

"Are you sure you want to hear the reason?" Richard asked.

"This..."

"Fine, I will explain it to you." Richard began, "Porphyria, also known as hematoporphyria, is a group of disorders involving abnormal porphyrin metabolism caused by a deficiency of a certain enzyme, or reduced enzyme activity, in the heme synthesis pathway. It can be congenital or acquired. Once it appears, at the level of the current era... well, there is no way to cure it completely. One can only barely sustain life and end up looking like this."

"Ah?" The guard captain remained utterly bewildered.

"Let me put it this way." Richard explained in greater detail. "Human blood is composed of many components, one of which is called heme. Under normal circumstances, the human body can use iron and porphyrin to produce heme under the catalysis of certain enzymes.

"However, some people lack those particular enzymes, causing problems in heme production and leading to extremely high levels of porphyrin in their bodies. Porphyrin is highly sensitive to light. It is harmless in darkness, but once exposed to light and activated by ultraviolet rays, it transforms into a flesh-eating toxin, causing large patches of red blotches, blisters, and even ulcers across the surface of the body.

"The mouth is affected as well, causing the gums to ulcerate and the roots of the teeth to become exposed, making the teeth appear especially long. Porphyrin deposits also gradually turn them purplish-brown.

"At the same time, because they cannot synthesize heme or produce normal blood, porphyria patients suffer from severe anemia and must replenish blood from outside sources to survive. Intravenous transfusion is a good method, but given this world's current level of technology, they simply cannot do that. They can only choose another method—drinking. Heme has an exceptionally strong life force and can resist all kinds of digestive fluids, entering the digestive system and being absorbed through the small intestine.

"The reason they hate garlic is simple as well. Garlic contains allicin, which has powerful antibacterial effects. Because of their unusual physical condition, eating garlic can trigger and greatly worsen their symptoms. In fact, they would hate it just as much if you stabbed them with silver objects—silver also has strong antibacterial effects.

"In short, you need to understand one thing: Vampires are Vampires, and porphyria is porphyria. Their symptoms may be somewhat similar, but they are not the same thing at all! What I told you to find were real Vampires and things related to wizards and spells, not sick people one after another, understand?

"When you captured them, what you received was not resistance and slaughter, but begging and wailing. Did you truly have no doubts at all? Heh, or did you think that as long as you appeared to complete the task, that was enough? It was like this the first two times, and it is still like this the third time. My patience truly is limited..."

"Prince, I..." The guard captain could no longer speak. Immense fear filled his heart. He had heard of many of the Prince's cruel methods. If the Prince truly became enraged...

Richard did not continue tangling with the guard captain. He walked toward the deepest part of the dungeon and said, "You said you captured four this time, and the last one is a real wizard. Fine. Let me see whether that is true or false."

Regarding the protagonist's explanations:

First, the protagonist only explained things to his subordinates, people weaker than himself. It was like a master cursing his boss in front of his pet.

Second, regardless of whether his subordinates understood what the protagonist said, they would only try their best to understand it. It was like the English listening section of the college entrance examination. Even if they could barely make out only a few words, they would still try to choose the correct answer rather than slam the table and tell the proctor, "This question goes beyond the syllabus. I am not taking the test!"

Third, the protagonist was a modern person. After transmigrating, he did not want to be assimilated or give up his identity as a modern person, so his way of thinking remained scientific. Naturally, when he voiced his thoughts directly, they were full of technical terms. If he faced someone of higher status, he would naturally "translate" them into meanings a person from the Middle Ages could understand. But he would not go to such trouble for subordinates, because there was no need.

"I am a Prince. You listen to whatever I say. If you do not understand, think about it. If you still cannot understand, then die!"

For example, when inspecting leaders spoke in vague, lofty terms, their subordinates could only rack their brains to grasp the meaning instead of grabbing the leader by the neck and demanding, "What the hell do you mean?"

It was also like certain leaders who were used to giving speeches in their hometown dialect. Their subordinates had to listen, even if they could not understand. Of course, the leader could work hard to learn Mandarin, or even the dialect of his subordinates' hometown. But would he still be a leader then?

Fourth, the protagonist also did this deliberately. He observed the reactions of the people around him and sought out those who could truly think for themselves, intending to use them as assistants. There would be further explanations later.