Lucius

Lucius flipped open a medical record, copied down the address, and closed it.

"There's no way to follow up on this one either; we'll just have to wait for him to come back for a check-up himself."

He was currently sitting in Liston's clinic. The owner was busy organizing the instruments he had just boiled, while Lucius handled the routine paperwork.

After they had handed over the messy follow-up reports to Kraft last time, they had received a brand-new set of requirements the very next day.

A new reporting schedule of once every five days had been added, and the Clear Clarity potion was now to be dispensed every five days as well. The new plan specifically mentioned "emphasizing potential dangers to the patient and using it only when absolutely necessary," an attempt to increase the likelihood of voluntary follow-ups.

There were also some detailed rules regarding addresses and potential symptoms, accompanied by a table compiled by Kraft. It was designed to be copied exactly as is, aiming for a foolproof, idiot-proof operation.

"I don't think it's very realistic." Liston used a pair of tongs to fish a small hand saw out of the boiling water. The steam hit his face, forcing him to squint. "How did Kraft describe it again? In one ear and out the other. They don't care about this; as long as they feel fine when they wake up, they won't bother with it again."

On the clean linen cloth nearby, there were already quite a few strange-looking tools: scalpels, drills, retractors, scissors of various sizes, and a soldering iron that looked quite intimidating.

This wasn't his first day here, so Lucius had long since grown accustomed to it. Compared to Kraft's gentle, precise operations, much of the work in this clinic was manual labor.

Amputations inevitably required sawing through bone and stopping bleeding on a large surface area. If Liston hadn't come from a family that didn't practice martial arts like Kraft's, he would surely have tried using an axe.

Over this period, Lucius had mastered the skill of remaining calm amidst cries of pain, focusing intently on the documents he needed to review.

The foolproof table provided by Kraft gave him an idea. "I think we could change our approach—list things the patient can feel themselves, things that don't require a specialized examination."

"And then?" Liston wiped the saw dry, placed it next to the scissors, and asked casually.

"Then we could let the patients take it home, fill in their condition after a period of time, and bring it to us when they have the chance." Lucius felt like a genius. He had easily come up with an answer that neither Kraft nor Liston had thought of; he felt like a lecturer.

"Hmm, well said." Liston didn't react, continuing his work and arranging the dried instruments into a metal tray.

Although he still harbored doubts about Kraft's "germ theory," the rate of wound inflammation and suppuration had indeed dropped significantly since they started following his methods. A pragmatist would not refuse a new, effective method.

He had to prepare several sets of instruments, boil them, place them in trays, and wrap them in several layers of linen so they could be unwrapped and used immediately when a patient arrived. He was very busy now and his attention was not on Lucius.

"So, shall we make a few sheets now? Even sailors could take the forms we give them, fill them out on the ship, and hand them to us the next time they reach Wenden Port." The more Lucius spoke, the more excited he became; the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. "We'll get the feedback much later, and the information might be incomplete, but it's at least possible to obtain."

Liston finished a portion of his work, covered the tray, and wrapped it in linen so he wouldn't have to worry about saliva splashing onto them while talking loudly.

He placed the instrument pack on the shelf, pulled up a chair next to Lucius, and sat down, pressing his hand down to stop him from writing. "What you said makes a lot of sense, but in my experience, there's a tiny problem that needs to be solved."

"What problem?"

"A problem that's hard to realize until you have your own clinic." Liston didn't answer directly, taking a roundabout way instead. "What kind of people do you think come here for amputations?"

"Most of them are sailors and laborers, aren't they? Didn't we compile the statistics? Many sailors come because the ship's doctor couldn't handle it and they waited too long after the injury; laborers come because they are always looking for work, or they delay it to save money until it develops into this."

They had already organized this data; they had finished it right after returning from Kraft's place. Thanks to the medical record template provided by Kraft, which included occupation, the analysis had been very convenient.

"Hmm, then you also know what kind of people they are. How many of the words on this paper do you think they recognize?" Liston tapped a finger on the list of items provided by Kraft.

It was full of technical jargon, some of which were newly coined terms whose meanings had only just been explained in the morning class; the ink on the notes was barely dry.

"Forget about this sheet; even the simplest book is beyond their comprehension. If they could read and write properly, why wouldn't they go find a clerical job?"

"Uh... perhaps we could simplify it as much as possible and explain the meaning of each item to them?"

Lucius realized his own foolishness, but he still wanted to struggle, unwilling to give up on his flash of inspiration.

"Do you think you can explain it to them clearly enough that they'll go back and record it on time as you said?"

It wasn't that Liston hadn't thought of similar methods, but it was too difficult to explain what he wanted to people who had never studied medicine, let alone teach illiterate people how to accurately record every item on a scale.

"Even if you had Kraft's level of lecturing ability and managed to make them understand on the spot, they would still have to remember it five or ten days after they went back."

"Then, after they forget, couldn't they find someone who is literate to help them read it?"

Liston leaned his head back against the chair, speechless at this suggestion that had been thought through, but not entirely. "They won't come for a free follow-up, but they'll have time to find a paid reader? Or do you want a sailor to find someone on the ship to help him handle this form?"

"Alright, that's true." Lucius abandoned the tempting plan.

He put away his paper and pen and continued to flip through the next medical record, pleasantly surprised to find an extra follow-up record attached to it.

This record belonged to a baker who had stepped barefoot into a gutter while drunk and cut a large gash in his foot on a piece of seashell discarded by some heartless person. He had dragged it out for several weeks, and a large patch of black gangrene on his foot had to be removed.

He had missed the five-day follow-up, but he had actually come in on the twelfth day.

"If I remember correctly, this one is new, right?"

"Let me see?" Liston leaned in to look at the record he had picked out. "Yes, although it's a bit late, at least we have it."

"I wonder when these records will ever end. Although they are quite useful, they take up too much time, and my head hurts after writing for so long."

"I'm afraid there's no end to it. Kraft said that at least the main medical record must exist for every patient, and there must be progress notes." Lucius said while reading.

This follow-up was written according to the latest list provided by Kraft. To facilitate reading and memory, various symptoms were listed in order from head to toe, including mental state, respiration, digestion, as well as urine and feces.

There were quite a few entries marked "unknown," such as the color of the urine and feces; the pitch-black public toilets didn't support this item.

Besides these "unknowns," Lucius also found a correction: in the mental state column, the word "lethargy" had been blacked out and replaced with a slash indicating it was absent.

"Was this modified?"

Lucius picked up the paper and pointed at the blacked-out area to show Liston.

"Yes, I remember. Because he said he felt like he had been waking up later than usual recently and was hard to wake up." Liston straightened up and took the record. "I accidentally checked 'lethargy,' but after thinking about it carefully, I felt it hadn't reached that level."

"It's not written in the remarks."

"Subjective feelings with average credibility aren't very meaningful, right? Everyone has a period where they are particularly sleepy, and his mental state is otherwise good." Liston leaned back in his chair.

"Fine, I'll mention it to him when I go to submit the medical records." Lucius tucked the paper back in and tapped it against the desk to straighten the stack.

This was the last one for the day. He gathered the entire pile of documents, bid Liston farewell, and headed back to the Medical School to finish his errands and pick up his share of Clear Clarity potion for the next five days.

The first ceramic cup of diluted solution he had prepared was likely running low; he would need to make another batch in half a month.

It wasn't just Kraft who had been busy this month; in fact, the entire Medical School had been set into motion by him, with new courses and a series of administrative tasks branching out around the new surgical methods.

It was clearly impossible for one person to handle so many things, so a portion of the workload naturally fell onto Lucius and Liston.

Liston's clinic had effectively become the primary source of information regarding the effects of Clear Clarity potion on adults. Since Kraft couldn't spare the time to come here often, he had to leave it to Lucius, who had received the most instruction.

Lucius didn't feel annoyed by this; on the contrary, he understood the benefits of participating in these matters very well. At the very least, with these credentials, securing a lecturer position at the school in the future was a certainty.

Filled with visions of a bright future, he carried the latest records back to the school and walked into the professor's room. This space had been temporarily occupied by Kraft and turned into his office; everyone knew to come here if they needed to find him.

"These are the new cases from the last five days, plus a twelve-day follow-up on a previous case." Lucius set the materials down on the corner of the desk, glancing at the table covered in papers densely packed with neat, small handwriting. A schedule filled to the brim was pinned down under an ink bottle.

Kraft was not doing well—that was what Lucius had been hearing lately. Between the heavy workload and the occasional strange patient coming in to dampen his spirits, no one could be doing well.

The room was permeated with a stifling, weary, and negative atmosphere. The man at the desk was shrouded in gloom, and it certainly wasn't a good idea to provoke him at a time like this.

But a sense of responsibility forced Lucius to bite the bullet and interrupt Kraft's work. "There is a small issue in here. Although Lecturer Liston said it was harmless, I felt it was necessary to bring it up."

"Being meticulous is a good thing. Tell me about it... cough, cough." Kraft said in a slightly hoarse voice. He grabbed the teacup beside him and took a large gulp of cold barley tea, only to choke and start coughing.

He quickly covered his mouth, but a few drops of water still splashed onto the writing he had just finished, blurring the ink into several spots.

"It's nothing major. Just one patient mentioned that he feels he has been waking up later lately and is not easily roused." Lucius finished speaking and prepared to leave; he also felt it wasn't particularly useful information, but his sense of duty had compelled him.

"What?"

Unexpectedly, Kraft ignored the ruined manuscript, stood up, and called out to stop Lucius. "Which record is it? Where does the patient live? Let's take a look."