บท 25: XXV. The Poison of the Human World
Dinner time had passed.
The clock approached midnight, and it was time to rest.
The secret port in the cave was eerily quiet.
The physician's room.
In a space of over twenty square meters, items were arranged neatly with an open bookshelf without any cover, displaying a dazzling array of medical books from the Northern Prison, a crystallization of medical science. Apart from the entrance, there was another door that led to the pharmacy.
On the side cabinet were plant oil paintings, and on the iron tray above lay a series of chisels and tweezers. Mika still had the stethoscope around his neck, not yet removed, as he read a book about dissection.
It wasn't that Mika was particularly diligent in improving himself, but the original author of this manuscript was rather renowned in the academic field, with each organ depicted as an exquisite piece of art, detailed to the finest hair, unimaginable without numerous practices behind such achievement, detailing even the operational process of the heart, the inner workings of the visceral circulation, panel-by-panel, revealing the underlying principles in detail.
The kerosene lamp was somewhat dim, so Mika opened the cap to add a bit of fuel, then wiped the dust off the glass cover with a silk scarf.
At that moment, a knock on the door was heard; the person outside seemed to be somewhat restrained, their voice soft, as if afraid of disturbing Mika.
"Come in."
Mika thought it was some new recruit; the likes of Rein and Shadi would never be so polite.
In walked a man with greasy hair and a scruffy beard, his face plastered with an ingratiating smile.
"Do you feel unwell, or is it an addiction? If you're looking for pain medication, I'd advise you to drop that thought now."
Sitting on a chair, Mika spoke in an even tone, observing his deficient vitality and considering the possibility of an addict.
Although Black Sail did not engage in that kind of trade, some smuggling ships would bulk purchase from Heaven Port market and then distribute them to local snakes on the East Shore.
It wasn't that Liszt wasn't envious of the profits from that trade, but it was so much easier to just rob them of their earnings after their dealings were done, so simple compared to the stupidity of secret signs, connections, and transport work. Three years ago, Liszt had set his sights on this business, targeting the routes for their unrighteous profit that was to be confiscated.
But one Black Sail ship could not hijack all the drug lords of the East Shore; it was merely a drop in the ocean, incapable of influencing the normal operations of the market. The varieties of hallucinogenic substances were many—tablets, powders, tinctures—mixed and formulated from various plants and nervous toxins of Magic Beast glands, creating an unforgettable experience for anyone who tried them, the number of addicts in Beima Duchy large enough to be alarming.
The painkillers from the Western Continent were nothing like cough syrup intended for depression; they were often very potent, so strong that one wouldn't cry out in pain even from a knife slash.
And Mika was well accustomed to this, having encountered such cases a hundred times over—nearly one out of every ten pirates, looking to do some deadly work to continue their consumption.
"It's not that..."
The man chuckled nervously, standing stiffly, unable to find his words.
"Then it must be physical discomfort, what symptoms do you have?"
Mika put the dissection book aside and put on his glasses.
Even with a chair available, the man did not sit; instead, scratching his forehead, he said, "Actually I don't have money to see a doctor, so I came aboard to treat my leg."
Mika laughed, thinking it was some minor thing, "Don't worry, as long as it's nothing serious and doesn't affect normal work, even before we set sail, free medical care is among the privileges of Black Sail Crew, which leg?"
The man pointed to his left leg.
Mika was speechless, thinking, "How dense can you be?" "I meant for you to roll up your trouser leg to take a look."
The man hesitated for a moment before sitting down, awkwardly rolling up his left trouser leg. When he lifted the linen to his knee, the pus and blood already adhered to the fabric, stripping away some skin with each inch lifted, until revealing the thigh root, a blurry and dripping mess, his entire thigh discolored with dark purple, rife with congealed blood and pus.
The man hung his head, his eyes slightly vacant.
Mika's eyes narrowed slightly, silent for a long while, then… he took off his glasses.
"You shouldn't have waited until this late to think about treatment," Mika said, picking up a pair of scissors and directly cutting off a strip of burst flesh from the man's leg, while the man had no sensation of pain.
Dark purple and cyan blood threads spread into a net-like pattern and would continue to spread over time; Mika had been a forensic doctor and understood the study of injury marks—the thigh must have been chopped, and though it hadn't injured tendons or bones, and movement was still possible, no measures had been taken, and by now the wound was already fully infected and festering.
Mika touched the surrounding areas of the spreading infection with the scissors, and the man winced in pain, his forehead breaking out in fine beads of sweat, his lips turned deathly pale.
Mika couldn't imagine how he had managed to pass the boarding inspection—the Ox had a habit of tormenting people, insisting on thoroughly checking that the limbs were unimpaired before allowing them on board, and yet this man... had actually slipped past Ox's watchful eyes.
"Is there still a chance to treat it?"
The man asked weakly, already having faintly anticipated the answer from Mika's subtle motions but still clutching to some hope.
"You're already suffering from sepsis; the skin nerves are completely necrotized, the muscles and bone tissues are also dead to some extent. You're merely holding out."
Mika thought it over for a moment, his hand searching his chest pocket for his coin purse, and counted out fifteen silver coins, "I'm sorry, I can't help you. You can't stay on the ship any longer either. This is some money I'm giving you personally. It's already too late now, but you can still sleep on the ship tonight, and at daybreak tomorrow, go to town and find a doctor with this money to amputate your leg."
Upon hearing the word "amputate," the man exhaled a few quivering breaths, then clenched his mouth and reconfirmed, "It has to be amputated?"
Mika replied indifferently, starting to issue a dismissal, "Only by amputating can your life be saved, and the sooner, the better. Delaying over a week, even the High Priest couldn't save you. Be quick."
The man hesitated for a moment, then forced a bitter smile.
"No need, I still have some money on me. If I borrowed yours, I don't know when I'd be able to repay it. Thank you, Doctor."
The man didn't continue to pretend to be strong, limping away with his painful leg, hobbling out of the ship's infirmary, and closed the door behind him.
Mika took a deep breath, supporting his forehead.
"What a mix of people."
Mika was speechless; the man had declined even free money—a truly unexpected choice.
He had long become jaded with such matters, extinguished the kerosene lamp, and prepared to sleep.
Apart from Wolman, the big guy sleeping in the warehouse, all the core members of the ship had their own bedrooms, and Mika, as premium talent, was taken special care of with a room second only in size to Liszt's and Fen's.
Mika left the infirmary and returned to his bedroom. Having dealt with several incidents in the afternoon, he was weary and soon fell asleep upon lying in bed.
The next morning, at the break of dawn,
it was just starting to get light outside.
Rooms on the first deck below the main deck had portholes that allowed light in, unlike the sailors who slept in the even lower and perpetually dark communal bunks.
Mika was awakened by the sound of a group of people running outside his door. Wary, he immediately rolled out of bed, dressed only in his nightclothes, and grabbed the short-handled axe from the bedside table before stepping outside.
Seeing that these sailors were not armed, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He grabbed a sailor at random and asked, "What happened?"
The sailor answered, "Someone's been found hanged below. No idea who killed him."
Mika's brow furrowed and he said, "You don't need to go down there and interfere. Go find the Captain immediately."
Mika also followed the other sailors to the lower decks.
Before long, he saw more than a dozen sailors holding lanterns for illumination, while a man was hanging by the neck from a doorframe with a hemp rope, the body swaying slightly with the roll of the waves.
It was the man who came for leg treatment last night.
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