The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1002, Chapter 1001: Answers
The Royal College of Medicine of Beatrice is not some unknown little hospital in the countryside.

As stated at the beginning of the letter: May you have the pride and wisdom worthy of this letter.

In Kingsley's eyes, Beatrice was just a 'prison'—or asylum—that was a collection of madmen, cripples, all sorts of deformities, and people with incurable diseases.

Reverence exists only in the eyes of those within the industry.

It can be said like this:
Almost all the top doctors who give lectures on stage or demonstrate bone sawing on the spot have studied at the Royal College of Physicians of Bertrand—including Roland’s friend, the famous 'Ice and Snow' doctor: Edward Snow.

Most of them were disciples of Williams Jenner's disciples; only a few exceptionally intelligent individuals were qualified to truly learn from Williams Jenner.

This old gentleman has extraordinary expertise in surgery.

No wonder Florence was nervous…

Look at her.

A 'dishonest' woman.

At this age, she was still unmarried (Kingsley believed she wasn't unwanted), had 'abandoned' her family, parents, and sisters, and had come to London alone, where she had 'vaguely' lived for so long, and had even been an accomplice in a place of evil (perhaps).

Florence's resume was worse than that of even the most average graduate with the worst grades.

Not to mention the top gentlemen who aspire to enter Belleville.

"To be honest, when I received your letter, I thought it was a prank."

Florence was invited to sit opposite Williams, with Roland and Kingsley on either side of him.

She was facing the old dean, unlike the others who tried to hide their anxiety and trepidation, using elaborate lies to elevate their status and embellish their ordinary experiences.

She had already honestly told everyone everything in her reply.

From why she came to London alone, why she entered the orphanage, to how many places she had worked before—she didn't know if it was her honesty that moved Williams, or her experiences, or…

Just a joke?
“If I were ten years younger, I might actually have done that… I mean, played a prank.” The old headmaster winked playfully, took the monocle off his glasses and placed it on the table. “I’m interested in everything you wrote in your letter, Miss Florence.”

He said.

Whether it's her work experience or her own 'absurd ideals'.

"What do you really mean to a caregiver or a doctor?"

Florence replied without hesitation: "The one who brings hope to the patient."

The old dean interlaced his fingers and raised an eyebrow: "Oh. Most people wouldn't answer like that—usually, we're scholars 'fighting the epidemic.' I won't comment on 'scholars' for now, but you two gentlemen are generally aware of the current atmosphere in certain circles in London..."

"Let's put it this way."

“I expect you to provide a reasonable explanation for your ‘treatment method’—Mr. Layton (the mole) has been a soldier for three years, and he will likely continue to be one in the future. Miss Florence, do you mean that every doctor involved in his care and treatment will have to play along with him… every day, over and over again?”

Florence carefully observed Williams' expression.

She couldn't tell.

Did it pass or fail?
'Satisfied' or 'Dissatisfied'?
“…I don’t know, sir.”

She had no choice but to answer truthfully.

“I don’t know what to do about the ‘future,’ sir. I’m not a doctor either,” she said. “This is just my ‘treatment’ for Layton.”

Williams remained noncommittal, his high brow bones making him appear less amiable when staring at someone.

"So, you have to become 'friends' with your patients—you have to have long, close contact with them, is that right?"

Williams asked.

Florence pursed her lips.

This is a bad question.

The prevailing view in the medical community now is: patients are patients, and doctors are doctors. The relationship between them is merely that of a buyer and seller, or a drinker and a restaurant owner, or a butcher and pork supplier—some newspapers have even satirized certain women with excessive sympathy.

Tell them to "pay more attention to their husbands and their husbands' lovers." Florence knew how to answer, but she didn't want to.

“Yes, sir. If you say ‘friend,’ I suppose that is true.”

she says.

"I believe that in nursing, a serious, methodical, and scientific approach is just as indispensable as the warmth of family or friends. They are not mutually exclusive—doesn't a cold, hard saw also fit in a person's hand? How can a person be without emotions?"

Williams pressed his palm down, suppressing Florence's rising emotions.

He paused for a moment until the office fell silent again.

“I have trained many good doctors, Miss Florence. To answer you in the words of most of them: emotions cannot cure diseases—I will not imitate their expressions when they said this, I really do not want to provoke your friends…after all, I was young once too.”

Florence couldn't help but curl the corners of her lips into a smile.

“Yes, sir. I think they have a point: emotions can’t cure illnesses,” she said, stepping forward and meeting his deep eyes without fear. “But emotions can save lives.”

she says.

"Doctors, medicine, all of humanity's wisdom, lessons, and truths distilled from countless painful, sleepless nights—what is it ultimately for?"

Florence remained calm.

"It's for saving lives, sir. In my opinion, our purpose should be 'saving lives' rather than 'curing the disease'—if it's just to defeat the disease...why not use a dagger or a musket?"

people.

That is the real purpose.

Emotions can save people.

That's what Florence wanted to say.

Williams was surprised.

Although he had read the girl's letter and had already speculated about her 'abilities' in his mind, he did not expect that she herself was even more outstanding than he had imagined.

With the teaching test in mind, the old dean asked another very practical question.

"It's difficult to build friendships, Miss Florence. Have you considered what happens after a patient dies?"

He said.

"They will take a part of you away. Whether you are a doctor or a caregiver, your emotions will suffer as 'friendship' withers away—three friends, three patients. Five? Ten? How many patients do you plan to encounter and how many 'friends' do you plan to make in your lifetime?"

"No one is immune to breakdowns."

Kingsley's eyes flickered.

—Williams was speaking from experience.

His statement implies that he and Florence are 'similar' people.

“You will be constantly tormented by the pain of parting, Miss Florence. How can you guarantee that your emotions will not delay the treatment and care of other patients? They will take away your energy, reason, wisdom and hope.”

Florence remained silent for a long time.

She clenched her fist and gently pressed it against her chest.

“They didn’t just take it, sir.”

she says.

"They also left behind their own part..."

It's used to fill the part I've lost.

This is Florence's answer.

(End of this chapter)