"Even Deadly Poison Can Sometimes Be Medicine (2)"
Monkshood.
A beautiful ornamental plant with vibrant purple flowers. But in reality, it's a poisonous herb with a deadly toxin hidden in its roots. It has been widely used in the making of poisons.
In ancient Athens, mere possession of it without permission was punishable by death. In Joseon, it was a common ingredient in royal death sentences. Even in modern times, its toxicity has found various uses.
A notable example?
"The 'Monkshood Murder Case' in Japan, 1986."
Throughout history, the lethality of monkshood has been well documented. And right now, there was a very real reason why Sir Gardin was looking at me as if I had completely lost my mind.
"…Your Highness?"
"Yeah."
"May I check if you have a fever?"
"I have a mild one, but it's nothing serious."
"But, Your Highness."
"Hmm?"
"You must not lose hope."
"I haven't."
"Life is beautiful, Your Highness."
"I know that."
"And life is precious."
"I'm aware."
"So please, never say again that you plan to consume such a vicious poison."
"No. I'm going to eat it."
"Your Hiiiiighness!"
"…Whoa, damn. That startled me."
Rakiel scowled.
"Sir Gardin. Do you really have so little faith in me?"
"That's not it, Your Highness. However—"
"However?"
"I cannot stand by and watch you throw everything away and destroy yourself. It is my duty and responsibility to protect you."
"I'm actually doing this to help you fulfill that duty."
"That's nonsense, Your Highness. First, you harmed yourself with needles, and now you are attempting suicide by poison!"
"…Sigh. It's not self-harm. And it's not suicide. It's part of my treatment."
"But Your Highness—"
"I am going to neutralize and refine the toxin, turning it into medicine."
"What?"
"Enough talk. Bring it to me. You have five minutes."
"…Your Highness."
"If you're late, I really will harm myself."
"…!"
"One, two…"
"Hhhng, ugh!"
Sir Gardin, who had been holding himself together, finally broke down into sniffles. He truly couldn't understand. The prince he served had changed.
More precisely, ever since he had collapsed unconscious last night and awakened, he had been… different. His speech, his gaze, even his expressions—something was off.
'He used to be sharp-tongued, but at least he never did anything insane…'
What happened? People say that personalities change when death is near, but could it be that?
'Even so… this is too much.'
Everything had changed too suddenly. In the dead of night, he had ordered a pile of needles to be brought to him. Then, he had heated them over a candle flame and stabbed them into his shoulders and arms.
And worst of all—
'He had a weirdly satisfied expression while stabbing himself!'
Yes. That was it.
There was no doubt.
He was enjoying harming himself. He had succumbed to the pleasure of pain. He had crossed a river from which there was no return.
'Your Highness…!'
Sir Gardin swallowed back tears.
He had never imagined that a long illness could break a person so completely. He blamed himself for not taking better care of the prince. Overcome with grief, he fell to his knees.
"Your Highness? Please, I beg you, reconsider."
"No. I won't change my mind. Leave."
"But, Your Highness."
"Haaah…."
Seeing Sir Gardin on the verge of tears, Rakiel let out a deep sigh. Clearly, forcing him into submission wouldn't work—he'd resist no matter what.
In the end, Rakiel decided to enlighten him.
"Sir Gardin."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Listen carefully. I'll explain why I need monkshood."
"Pardon?"
"As you know, monkshood contains a deadly toxin in its roots. In some foreign lands, they classify these roots into two types. What I plan to use is not the mother root but the secondary root, called fuzi."
"Fu…zi?"
"Yes, fuzi. In another foreign language, its medicinal name is Aconiti Lateralis Radix Preparata. It's packed with aconitine-based neurotoxins. These compounds stimulate and paralyze the brainstem and peripheral nervous system, causing an overreaction of the parasympathetic nerves, and eventually leading to heart failure."
"…."
Gulp.
Sir Gardin's Adam's apple bobbed.
Rakiel continued, his tone calm and composed.
"However, I know how to neutralize and refine its toxicity. Don't ask me how—I won't tell you."
"Neutralize… the toxicity?"
"Yes. This process is called paozhi."
"Paozhi…."
"Once properly refined, fuzi can be used as medicine."
"Is that true?"
"Of course. Do you think I would lie?"
Rakiel smirked.
Memories of his past life in South Korea came to mind—his time as an oriental medicine doctor. He had prescribed fuzi before, though it had already been professionally refined by manufacturers.
"Luckily, I know multiple methods of paozhi in detail."
"…."
"So just bring it to me. Do you understand now?"
"…Your Highness."
"Yes?"
"To be honest, I still don't believe you."
"…."
"I have never heard of such knowledge. I don't know where it comes from, nor if it can be trusted. However…"
"However?"
"If it truly helps Your Highness recover… is it worth trying?"
"No medicine is ever 100% certain. But I am confident that it will not cause harm. That should be enough of an answer."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then your decision?"
"…I will bring the monkshood."
Sir Gardin had made up his mind.
He knew better than anyone how the prince's health had deteriorated. No medicine had worked. It had been a hopeless struggle.
But if there was a chance…
Even if it was a faint hope…
'I'll have to test it myself first, to ensure it's safe for His Highness.'
Determined, he left the chamber. Ten minutes later, he returned with an armful of monkshood roots.
"Your Highness, I brought all that I could find."
"Good. Now fetch two large basins, fill them with clean water, and bring me a sack of salt."
"Is that necessary for paozhi?"
"Of course."
"I will prepare them immediately."
And so, the preparations began.
Two large basins of water were placed in the center of the chamber.
"Now dissolve the salt in the water."
"How much?"
"A lot."
"How much is 'a lot'?"
"Just keep pouring until I tell you to stop."
"Understood, Your Highness."
Whoosh—!
A cascade of salt poured into the basins.
Rakiel dipped his fingers into the water, tasting the brine to check the concentration.
"Now, submerge all of the roots."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Splash!
Sir Gardin diligently followed orders.
And so began the meticulous process of refining fuzi, step by step—unraveling secrets that would one day lead to an extraordinary discovery.