45 - Jean-Jacques in the Basement 1
Once we started borrowing recovered Black Knights as extra hands, things started reaching various places. In particular, being able to do laundry seemed to be a big help. It was not just that the sheets touching our skin became clean. Being able to use plenty of sterilized bandages made a big difference. It prevented scratching oneself raw and could cover the torn, wounded areas. Once blood and scabs stopped being scattered around, that alone helped curb infection. According to the Sedovara Church, Wards disease's droplet infection is apparently the most frightening thing. Contact infection is also a concern, but apparently there is not as much to worry about as long as you thoroughly wash your hands and do not wrap yourself in the patient's used clothes or sheets.
Thinking about it the other way, that means it can transfer even from sheets. Well, no wonder nobody recovers when they use the same sheets for days on end.
I witnessed them flipping the same sheets over and using the other side, but thankfully that barbaric practice has not happened since. On the first day, I had to go home mid-laundry, but when I came to the fortress the next day, most of the sheets were already washed. Apparently after I went home, the women took turns washing them.
...I heard they were happy to have help from the outside.
The infected and those suspected of infection were isolated in the fortress, but it is not like they received any particularly attentive care. Watching friends and acquaintances gradually develop symptoms must be painful. As they watched one person die, then two die, it seems they gradually started feeling abandoned by the world. And then I came to help from the outside. That was apparently a good thing. They could feel they had not been abandoned yet, and it sparked motivation. That rather than just waiting to be taken care of, they could at least take care of themselves.
So anyway, while there are few people without bandages, the ones on the first floor are relatively better now. The patients on the second and third floors also apparently regained their will to recover, with recovered energetic people coming and going.
...Though once it gets severe, it seems hard to recover.
The prime example of that would be Jean-Jacques in the basement. From what I hear, the scene is so gruesome that I am not even allowed near the basement. The pharmacist's white coat was stained red when they came back from the basement because they were dissecting bodies, and the dark stains on Jasper's gray clothes were from Jean-Jacques's blood. Since blood can also transmit infection, the gray clothes were quickly sent to the laundry.
...The fact that he is still alive is the first thing that is strange to me.
Jean-Jacques was the first to develop symptoms in the fortress. Logically speaking, he should be the first to die too. And yet, Jean-Jacques is still alive. Even though several of the prostitutes and fellow Black Knights he likely infected have already died.
Nobody wants to take care of Jean-Jacques. I think his fellow recovered Black Knights should do it, but everyone in the quarantine section knows that he brought the infection. On top of that, apparently Jean-Jacques was being given plenty of medicine on orders from the capital. Medicine that they know full well can only be expected to work on early-stage symptoms, when there is not enough medicine to go around.
...Well, I can see why he would be resented.
Thinking about it the other way, if they had given up on Jean-Jacques early on, several people who died might have been saved. Rather than giving medicine to Jean-Jacques, from whom no effect could be expected, they should have given it to infected people in the early stages where it could help.
...Even Jean-Jacques's continued suffering now is because of the medicine, is it not?
The period where recovery could be hoped for has passed, but the medicine is still having some effect. And because of that, he cannot die even if he wants to, just prolonging his suffering.
...The disease progresses, the medicine prolongs the suffering, and everyone resents him so nobody will care for him. That is a living hell.
When I let that thought slip, Jasper explained Jean-Jacques's condition to me in excruciating detail. Exposed flesh from scratching himself all over, blood spatter flying everywhere, nails peeled back and fingertips soaked in blood. I really did not want to hear about that kind of thing.
...Jasper-san has a pretty nasty personality.
Thanks to that, I want to stop thinking about it, but whenever I have a moment between cleaning tasks, I end up thinking about Jean-Jacques.
...It is not like I need to worry myself over it.
He is not family, not an old friend, not even an acquaintance. We just traveled together a bit when leaving Meiyu Village, and even my impression of him from back then was not exactly good.
...But I still care. Is that the Japanese in me, or the human in me, or maybe I am just a softie...?
The more the atmosphere in the quarantine section improved, the more I found myself bothered by Jean-Jacques being left alone.
...I am starting to get frustrated.
At myself for worrying about Jean-Jacques, and at myself for allowing him to be abandoned. Maybe I should also be angry at myself for faithfully following the order not to go to the basement.
...Alright, I am going to check it out!
Let me take a peek at his condition once and clear my head. If there is something I can do, I will do it, and if not, I will be able to give up. More than anything, the worst feeling is being all hazy and not knowing the situation like this.
I decided to take a look in the basement. But even so, I could not bring myself to sneak in like that. Even at my worst, I still have the earnest nature of a Japanese person. Expecting to be rejected from the start, I decided to ask an adult for permission anyway.
"...You want to go see Jean-Jacques-dono? You have got some interesting taste."
"Not taste."
I thought Jasper, who has unexpectedly bad taste, might give me permission, and this was the result of asking him. I knew Alf would reject me if I asked, so I took him off the candidate list from the start. As for Leonardo, I have not even seen his face lately.
"What are you going to do seeing Jean-Jacques-dono's condition? It is not like you can do anything about it anyway."
"I know. But I am worried."
Sometimes I hear sounds from the basement, and it worries me. The current situation where I know he is there but ignore him bothers me. Everyone treats Jean-Jacques as if he does not exist, and even his fellow Black Knights will not care for him. That bothers me. When I told him these feelings earnestly in my broken speech, Jasper finally sneered.
"People call people like you hypocrites, you know. A hypocrite is..."
"Hypocrite is... wrong."
He must have thought a child would not know the word 'hypocrite.' I cut him off as he tried to kindly explain it to me.
"I only want to hear about Jean-Chack. I have not seen yet. Only Jasper told me how bad it is. So, um..."
I know from Jasper that the situation is terrible. But since I have not actually seen it, I cannot help thinking about it.
What if he cannot recover because he has been abandoned? What if there is still something that can be done?
"...So you want to see with your own eyes that the situation is truly hopeless, and then give up?"
"Want to give up, that is what I mean."
There are ways of saying things. Bad-sounding ways, and good-sounding ways.
"...When you see it, make sure you give up properly."
After a moment of silence, Jasper muttered that. My request passed so easily that I could not help staring at Jasper's face.
"Huh? I can?"
"Once you see that, you will understand there is nothing to do but give up."
Once Jasper decided to show me, he moved quickly. He brought a mask shaped like a plague mask from somewhere and put it on my face. Since it was an adult-sized mask, it was too big for my child's head. I adjusted it with strings, but the mask covering my face had a round window-like part to see through, making it a bit hard to see outside. As a measure against droplets, bandages were wrapped around my exposed skin at the neck, wrists, and ankles, and I tucked my hair into a white cap. As for clothes, there were no children's sizes in the quarantine section, so I kept mine on. Since they were a relatively light color, any blood stains would be easy to spot. I double-layered my gloves for good measure, and I was ready.
Following Jasper, we arrived at the door leading to the basement, but the Black Knight guarding the door stopped us. Apparently it was not something a child should see, and Alf had ordered that I should never be allowed into the basement. I thought Jasper would talk his way around it, but since it was my own will to see Jean-Jacques's condition, the task of persuading the Black Knight was pushed onto me.
...Jasper-san is not very helpful.
In the end, I did pretty much the same persuasion I had used on Jasper, and managed to get a promise that I could peek into the basement for just a little while. Of course, we also made a pact to keep it a secret from Alf.
...It stinks.
As I descended the stairs to the basement, I could not help wrinkling my nose at the smell wafting up. I wanted to pinch my nose, but the plague mask was too elaborate to do that.
...The smell of blood, and sweat, and pee?
The smell was so intense that I tried to distract myself by thinking about various things. If I did not distract myself somehow, I felt like I would run away even though I was still on the stairs.
"I am warning you, this really is not something a child should see. Do not pass out on me. I do not want to carry anything heavier than a book."
With that preface, Jasper opened the door at the bottom of the stairs.
...Stinks!?
The smell on the stairs was cute by comparison. The stench that came through when the basement door opened was so intense it stung my eyes. When it is this strong, you cannot even distinguish what is in the smell.
...Ah, I think my nose went numb.
I cannot tell what kinds of smells there are at all. It is just intensely stinky, and it is hard to even keep my eyes open. I think getting hit in the head with a blunt object must feel something like this.
"Jean-Jacques-dono is this way."
I opened my eyes to slits, guessed that the moving figure was Jasper, and followed after him. The overwhelming smell delayed looking around, but when I did look, there were only a few windows for light or ventilation, and those were the only light sources. It was dim and hard to see around. I could tell, though, that the floor was not wooden planks but stone pavement.
...Everyone said it was a basement, but it is not, is it.
As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I could see. The walls were partitioned like private rooms, but there were no walls on the corridor side. Instead, thick iron bars were set into them.
...I think calling it an underground prison is more accurate.
There were no people who looked like prisoners in any of the cells. I could not tell if they had never been there or if they had been moved elsewhere to use the space as a quarantine section. But each cell had a single bed, and the box in the corner seemed to be a toilet.
Just as I was starting to feel uneasy knowing that what I had heard was a basement was actually an underground prison, a groaning sound came from the door at the back. It was a groan that seemed to crawl along the ground, or maybe like it was being squeezed from the depths of his gut.
"...Looks like he just woke up. With any luck, you might even be able to talk to him."
Suddenly feeling anxious, I grabbed the hem of Jasper's clothes. He must have noticed, but Jasper did not say anything. When Jasper opened the back door, the groaning grew louder.
"We moved him to the back for soundproofing. Originally it is a solitary confinement cell for violent criminals. This door is the only way in or out, to prevent escape."
"The white coat men, the specimen, they dissected, right?"
"They have already finished examining that, so it was moved elsewhere. It should be properly laid to rest by now."
Talking like this, we arrived in front of the solitary cell at the back. This one also had iron bars set into it, with no wall to provide privacy.
"...Jean-Chack-san?"
It was too dark to see inside the room well. I strained my eyes and barely made out a bed in the center of the room. As I strained my eyes more to see better, I could just barely make out what looked like a figure on what I had thought was an empty bed. The figure was constantly moving, but the movement was restricted, as if he was restrained.
"...Cannot move?"
"He is restrained so he cannot scratch himself anymore."
If they left his limbs free, apparently he could not help scratching.
"Do you want to go closer and look? Or turn back here?"
Jasper touched the door set into the iron bars, and it creaked open. Though they were using a prison cell as a sickroom, the person inside was not a prisoner. There was no need to lock it.
The groaning coming from the bed and the black mass that seemed to writhe was so grotesque that I instinctively shrank back. But I was the one who said I wanted to see Jean-Jacques's condition. I knew that if I turned back now, I would be even more bothered than before. I took a deep breath to calm myself and stepped into the cell.
"...Jean-Chack-san?"
When I timidly peered at the bed, I finally understood why Alf said he "did not want a child to see this." Jean-Jacques on the bed looked like a patient on an operating table. His neck, shoulders, arms, wrists, waist, knees, and ankles were all fixed to the bed. There is no way he could scratch himself no matter how itchy his body might be. He had almost no freedom of movement.
The restraints were belts. Cloth was placed against his skin to prevent injury, but it did not seem to be doing much good. Probably from all his struggling, the padding was coming loose, frayed, and in terrible condition. Blood seeping from everywhere left dark reddish stains on them.
...It stinks. His hair is greasy with oil.
There is hardly any unscratched skin visible. Most of it is red, swollen, and festering, or the pox has burst to reveal pus and oozing fluid. A scene so unsanitary it is obvious at a glance. Being given only medicine and food in this state is, in a way, torture.
"...Looking at this, do you think there is anything that can be done?"
The intense stench made my stomach churn. I felt a little nauseous, but knowing he was still alive made me feel like it was better, so I endured. Visually, it was still easier to bear than the rotting corpse I saw in the village on the way to Wiyack Valley, or the mostly skeletal remains I found in the forest.
"The only thing you could do for him is put him at ease. The medication for Jean-Jacques is apparently on orders from the capital, but if your guardian asked, he could have it revoked."
Hearing that, I finally understood. The real reason Jasper had listened to the wish of a mere child like me and brought me to the forbidden basement.
...He thought that if I saw this, I would go crying to Leonardo-san.
Poor Jean-Jacques, suffering like this. Please, just put him out of his misery.
If I asked, Leonardo would surely listen. He would go against the capital's orders and stop the medication for Jean-Jacques. That is what Jasper must have thought.
...If Jean-Jacques died, the medicine could be given to people it could actually help.
I think that too. Giving medicine to Jean-Jacques is a waste, and it should be allocated elsewhere. If it is just prolonging his suffering, then stopping treatment would be better. I do think that, but...
...But Jean-Jacques is still alive, you know?
Euthanasia was a difficult issue even in modern Japan. The answer did not align when you thought about it rationally versus when you considered a family's feelings.
"Jean-Chack."
I gently touched Jean-Jacques's restrained hand. I felt the gloves absorb moisture from blood or something, getting slightly heavier.
"Jean-Chack, you alive?"
I knew he was alive from the groaning, but what came out of my mouth was a confirmation of life. When I gently shook his hand, after a moment, he gripped back firmly. The groaning stopped. His gaze wandered a little, and I felt his bloodshot eyes catch sight of my face. Though thanks to the plague-mask-like thing, there is no way he could actually see my face.
"Jean-Chack, still wanna live?"
Nobody can make the choice of euthanasia. So I decided to ask the person himself. I am so honestly straightforward it is embarrassing, even to myself.
"...It is... Jean-Jacques... sama. Not... Chack..."
His voice was surprisingly energetic. I was shaken by the sheer horror of what I saw at first glance, but maybe he still had unexpected strength in him.
"Jean-Chack, still gonna keep going?"
"That is... why... it is not... Chack..."
He was dutifully correcting me, so his mind must be clear. From the outside, judging only by the horrific state of things, I should not decide on euthanasia or reallocating his medicine.
"Jean-Chack, you can still keep going, right?"
"Of... course..."
Don't kill me without asking. That was Jean-Jacques's will.
It got long, so that is it for today. Originally I planned for "Alf's Invitation" through the next story to be one chapter. You never know how long things will get when you write them out properly.