Teaching forensic medicine to a necromancer?

"Clap, clap, clap."

Rhythmic applause rang out. Gret turned his head and saw the Necromancer leaning his staff to the side, smiling and clapping. After a few claps, he extended his hand to Gret, his tone even more enthusiastic than before:

"I thought you were just a nice guy, but I didn't expect you to be so two-faced! Hahahaha, my dear friend, your insights are truly impressive...

--I forgot to introduce myself earlier. My name is Andrew Lynn, and I'm a Necromancer from Black Crow Marsh. And you?

Oh, right, would you like something to drink? Mint water? Or honey water? Troca found a beehive a few days ago, and I tell you, he must have been fighting it, he actually beat off that bear that was stealing honey..."

His speaking speed was really fast, and his topics jumped around rapidly, one after another, following his train of thought. This guy seemed to have a racing mind; perhaps he should see a psychiatrist—

If this world had psychiatrists.

Gret made a mental note. His expression remained unchanged, and he replied with a smile:

"I'm Gret, Gret Nordmark, a local. My profession is hard to say right now. I'll have some mint water. Is there anything to eat? I'm starving after working all night!"

"Troca!"

Necromancer Andrew shouted loudly. The Golden Skeleton walked away with a clatter, and after washing his hands, the Necromancer turned back enthusiastically:

"So, do you think it would be better to control Skeleton Soldiers if they used their own bones?"

"I think your skeletons are already very obedient," Gret replied sincerely.

He kept staring at the Golden Skeleton. Compared to the black cat, who was lying on the table waiting for food, the skeleton had been busy since it entered. It rummaged through cabinets, retrieved trays, brought tea sets, poured water, and brought food...

It even clattered and flipped over a stone slab, on which flames rose, toasting pancakes.

If this wasn't a skeleton, he would have believed it was a robot.

Clearly, Necromancer Andrew was not satisfied with this answer. He gestured wildly, describing how weak his skeletons were (Gret: Not at all, they're much stronger than me), and looked at Gret expectantly again, waiting for his answer.

"...I don't know..."

Gret tried to swallow the words. But the question was too difficult. Why ask him? Why not ask your own skeleton?

He tried to force a smile:

"I think skeletons might not know which bone is their own?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" the man nodded vigorously:

"This set of bones was assembled by itself, so it's really unreliable. --So how do you tell? How do you distinguish which bone belongs to whom?"

Gret: "..."

Should I not have accepted the invitation? This Necromancer, although he didn't seem malicious, his mind seemed a bit... off.

Gret looked around, feeling a little flustered.

How to distinguish which bone belongs to whom? He did have methods, for example, DNA testing. Test each bone, classify them by results, absolutely fast, accurate, and cost-effective~~~

The problem was, this was another world. Even if he wanted to do it, he didn't have the conditions.

There were also some less accurate classification methods. For example, by the time of epiphyseal fusion, one could distinguish the age of the bone's owner and separate those of different ages.

For example, on the capitulum of a radius, the epiphysis was fused, but the distal epiphysis was not yet fused; while on another ilium, the epiphysis was completely fused.

The capitulum fused between 15-17 years old, and the distal epiphysis fused between 16-18 years old. Considering both, the owner's age was approximately between 16-17 years old. The iliac epiphysis fused between 20-25 years old. Since it was completely fused, it meant the owner was definitely over 20 years old...

These two bones definitely belonged to two different people, no doubt about it.

--However, observing epiphyseal lines requires X-rays.

There were none in this world.

Gret, the former emergency physician, who had nothing he needed, Nordmark, once again, cried from the bottom of his heart...

Who can get me an X-ray machine!

If not, just get me some radium ore, and I'll find someone to handcraft it!

Necromancer Andrew was still looking at him expectantly. His face was sallow, and his hair was greasy, clearly indicating he paid no attention to personal hygiene. As for his build, he looked like a twig even without wind.

If he were any thinner, he could be brothers with his skeletons.

Right, that Golden Skeleton was holding a tray with a kettle, porcelain plates, cups, and glass jars. On it were mint water, white bread, and honey, all complete. It stood by the cabinet, chest out, arms level, its posture quite standard, but it just wouldn't come over.

Was this the rhythm of not getting any snacks without some solid content?

Gret drew circles and complained mentally about the Necromancer in front of him. The situation was beyond his control, so he could only rack his brain—no, search his memory for the Forensic Medicine textbook, and try to come up with something:

"Actually... the age of bones can also be determined. For example, the skull, teeth are very obvious indicators..."

Gret stopped and looked around, trying to find a skull for a practical demonstration. Unfortunately, although this was a Necromancer's residence, bones were not everywhere.

At the very least, Gret looked around and only saw one.

The one on the Golden Skeleton's head.

So, the skeleton he was staring at intently walked over with a clatter.

It first put down the tray, poured the mint water, placed the snack plate, and then—took off its own head, held it in both hands, and offered it to Gret.

The dark eye sockets tilted upwards, and the two soul fires within the eye sockets stared back at Gret.

Gret: "..."

What is this?

What do you mean by this?

Are you asking me to hold a pancake with honey in one hand, eat it, and use the other hand to poke a skull and lecture you?

Even though surgeons are generally uninhibited, accustomed to facing bloody scenes and grim realities, this is too rough!

He leaned back, avoiding the skull shoved under his nose. He reached across the table, grabbed a fork from in front of the Necromancer, and tapped the skull heavily:

"Open your mouth!"

The Golden Skeleton's jaw opened in response. Gret held up the Necromancer's fork and pointed at the dark, uneven teeth, explaining them one by one:

"The older the age, the greater the wear. See, the tips of the teeth are worn down. On the molars in the back, a large part of the crown is worn away, exposing the dentin...

Tsk, tsk, tsk. He must have been in a lot of pain when he was alive.

If only a small part of the crown is worn, or the tips of the teeth aren't flattened, this person would be younger..."

As he spoke, the Necromancer Andrew craned his neck, looking at each tooth. He leaned further and further forward, burying his head lower and lower, as if he were about to burrow into the skull's gaping maw. After watching for a while, he suddenly came to his senses and waved his hand haphazardly at the table:

"Please, go ahead--"

Gret didn't stand on ceremony. He ate with the speed of an ER doctor on a night shift. He grabbed the pancake with his left hand, poured honey with his right, sandwiched them together, and stuffed them into his mouth. The first bite sent a ripple of delight across his tongue against his palate.

Mmm, the pancake was delicate and fluffy, the honey sweet, and the mint water refreshing. Although the Golden Skeleton's pancake-making skills couldn't compare to a master chef from his past life, it was delicious enough in the middle of the night when he was hungry.

This is what humans should eat!

I don't want to eat black bread every day!

His mood improved, and his lecture became even more detailed:

"Oh, the degree of tooth wear is related not only to age but also to the owner's dietary habits and economic status. For example, people who eat a lot of black bread will have more tooth wear than those who eat white bread. Besides teeth, the pelvis can also be used to determine age... the pelvis..."

Thanks to @Canji Xiaofan for the 100 Qidian coins reward

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Writing today was incredibly difficult. I wrote and deleted, deleted and rewrote. I deleted this chapter three times and still haven't finished it. Please give me some comfort