Microscopes and Canvases - Chapter 35

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 35
Patrick retrieved two elongated Glass Cylinders from a shelf and placed them side by side on the desk, saying he had something to show her.
“Here’s what we’re working on at the moment.”
He filled each cylinder with an equal volume of water, then let several drops of Red Ink fall into them. Crimson threads unraveled slowly through the liquid, and soon the water transformed completely into a deep, rust-colored hue.
“Let’s call this blood.”
Patrick placed a pristine white mass of Defatted Cotton on one side of a Brass Scale and a withered bundle of dark Red-heart Water Moss on the other, balancing the weights precisely. Once the scale reached equilibrium, he turned to face Beatrice.
“This is the finest Defatted Cotton we use at the hospital. And this, as you can see, is unremarkable dried moss. But the weights are perfectly matched.”
He took both materials in his hands and brought them above the cylinders.
“I’ll drop them in simultaneously. Watch carefully.”
Plop, plop. Both masses fell onto the dark-red liquid at the same moment.
The Defattet Cotton slowly absorbed the color from the surface, grew heavier, and then sagged from one corner, sinking toward the bottom. Once it had barely saturated itself, it could draw in no more liquid.
Beatrice found herself leaning forward. Her eyes were already fixed on the reddened mass within the cylinder.
The moss behaved differently. The moment the dried stem touched the water, the liquid was drawn in with visible force. The compressed leaves plumped up instantly, and the darkened mass filled with deep red, swelling in volume.
As the handful of moss doubled, then tripled in bulk, the water level inside the cylinder noticeably dropped before her eyes.
“Despite being just a handful, it absorbs water at thirty, sometimes forty times its own weight. Cotton manages perhaps six times at best.”
He lifted the thoroughly saturated moss with Tweezers, placed it in his palm, and gently squeezed. Red liquid streamed out.
“But that’s not the most remarkable part.”
Patrick retrieved two more sealed Glass Jars from the depths of the shelf.
“We’ll need more experimentation to be certain, but the Red-heart Water Moss appears to possess far more powerful properties than ordinary moss.”
He said these were experiments conducted over the ten days Beatrice had been away—one sample in plain water, the other immersed in a solution made from steeped dried Red-heart Water Moss.
The difference was visible even through the glass. The tissue in the plain water had turned murky and darkened into a state of decay. The tissue in the solution had retained nearly all of its original color.
“The Red-heart Water Moss solution group decomposed far more slowly. It’s still only conjecture, but I suspect this moss contains compounds that prevent wounds from becoming infected.”
“Then….”
Beatrice lifted her head. Only now did she grasp what Patrick intended to do with the Red-heart Water Moss.
“When I disappeared in Nospen and regained consciousness at a rural hospital, I saw many poor people arrive with Inflammation that could have been treated in time. I witnessed several elderly patients who had lost limbs that could have been saved.”
He gazed quietly at the red moss in his hand and continued.
“What if we cultivated this moss in large quantities, since it reproduces so readily? If we could use the properties of Red-heart Water Moss—which prevents Putrefaction and has excellent absorbency—as the primary ingredient to create a special Pad and distribute it?”
A brief silence fell over the room.
“I want to show that an overlooked moss can save lives.”
Beatrice regarded Patrick quietly. She thought he was far more admirable and impressive than she had initially believed.
And Beatrice Somerset was now ready to walk willingly alongside this remarkable man in his journey.
“I… will work hard.”
An indescribable emotion, a burning passion flooded through her entire being. Suppressing her quickening heart, she spoke to him with the weight of a solemn vow.
“I will do better. I want to give my utmost to support this research.”
Did he feel something special too?
Instead of answering, Patrick rose quietly from his seat. His hands slipped into his pockets, and he paced around the desk for a long while before suddenly walking toward Beatrice with measured steps and extending his right hand abruptly.
“Thank you for being a part of this, Beatrice. I mean that sincerely.”
Beatrice readily took his hand.
“It’s an honor to become your colleague, Patrick Bennett.”
* * *
“Uncle! Or rather, Director!”
Around closing time, the door to the director’s office flew open without a knock, and Beatrice rushed in. Edward, who had been reviewing documents, looked up over his spectacles.
“What is it?”
“I need books—detailed ones about moss. Any you have. Please give me everything!”
Edward stared at his breathless niece for a moment, then broke into laughter.
“Suddenly? Has something changed your mind?”
“Drawing alone isn’t enough anymore. I’m going to study properly. Really properly!”
“How admirable. But why not ask Patrick for those books? His room must be buried under a mountain of moss literature.”
“No, I don’t want that.”
Beatrice shook her head firmly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to look like a fool or an idiot. What if he thinks I’m someone who doesn’t even know the basics?”
Edward suppressed a laugh that threatened to escape with a discreet cough, then drew a sheet of paper from his drawer and began writing out a purchase list for Beatrice. The list, starting with introductory guides and proceeding methodically, came to roughly a dozen volumes.
“Read them in order. The third book is rather dry, but it has splendid illustrations. Since you’re an illustrator, you could even start with that one.”
“Thank you, Uncle!”
Beatrice snatched the list and disappeared out the door with a bang. Edward, left somewhat bewildered at his desk, let out a soft chuckle and returned to his paperwork.
It was a moment when the results from Annex Room 101 seemed increasingly promising.
* * *
Tick, tick, tick.
The wall clock’s ticking sounded unnaturally loud. Beyond the Easel that had found its place again, her forehead came briefly into view as she concentrated intently on her drawing.
Patrick glanced surreptitiously across at Beatrice’s workstation. She had become someone entirely different these days. For hours on end, she spoke barely a word, devoting herself wholly to practicing Detailed Illustration of moss, and whenever time remained, she buried herself in moss research.
Peering through her Portable Magnifying Glass at dried specimens, estimating the arrangement of leaves, then transferring them onto paper—dozens of times over. Each time she rinsed her brush or turned a page, there came only the soft rustle of paper.
While Beatrice displayed remarkable powers of concentration, Patrick had lately become quite distracted.
The sound of brush-rinsing from across the desk, occasionally mingled with her quiet humming. Every small gesture of hers kept catching his attention whether he wished it or not.
After shuffling through a few dried specimens, Patrick finally pushed his papers aside and began tapping the desk idly with his pen. After hesitating for some time, he finally spoke.
“Say, Beatrice.”
“Yes?”
She raised her head, brush still in hand.
“Would you… be willing to join me on a collecting expedition right now?”
Patrick continued somewhat awkwardly.
“The specimens I’ve kept in storage have deteriorated far more than expected. I think we need to go out collecting again. I was wondering if you might be interested in accompanying me….”
“Yes! Where are we going?”
“There’s a Wetland in the suburbs of the Capital—takes about forty minutes by motorcar. It’s not a particularly large marsh, but the variety of species there is remarkable. It’s an excellent place for collecting.”
Before Patrick could say another word, Beatrice had already begun briskly packing her portable materials into a box, then sprang to her feet.
“Let’s leave at once!”
The two of them divided the luggage between them and set off together toward the rear of the Museum.
“What a handsome motorcar.”
In the sunlight, Patrick’s new motorcar gleamed and glinted brilliantly.
“I made the investment to have the freedom to explore the countryside,” Patrick said with a slight smile as he helped Beatrice into the passenger seat. It was at that very moment he was about to start the engine that Patrick suddenly froze, his expression bewildered.
“What’s the matter?” Beatrice’s eyes widened with concern, and he pressed his forehead with a look of consternation.
“Ah, well…”

To venture out to the suburbs, a passenger had to be properly prepared. Clouds of dry dust would swirl up, coating one’s entire body in grime.
For ladies especially, it was essential to wear a thick Motoring Veil over one’s hat—not only to shield against the dust, but also to prevent gossip about having been seen riding alone with a gentleman in a motorcar.
“This is troublesome…”
As Patrick looked around uncertainly, his eye fell upon another automobile parked nearby.
The owner of the neat, charming two-seater motorcar happened to be someone Patrick knew well. He had observed more than once how this person arrived at the Museum each morning, driving their own car with confident flair.
“Listen, would you mind waiting just a moment? I’ll be back in a flash!”
Leaving a bewildered Beatrice behind, Patrick bolted straight back toward the main building.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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