Chapter 31: Preventing Sickness
“Yes, I want to!” The words burst out of me, a desperate confession of a deep, primal need. I couldn't help it. The filth felt like a second skin I was desperate to slough off, to wash away the grime of this world and feel human again, just for a moment.
“But… it costs money to get into a bathhouse,” Jared argued, his voice the ever-present chorus of pragmatism. “If you want to wash, I can take you to the river outside the city. That’s free.”
“And have me catch my death?” I shot back, fixing him with a glare. “In this cold? In the river? I might as well just hold my head under the water and be done with it. That’s not a bath, Jared, that’s a burial.” In truth, the daytime wasn’t terribly cold, the real chill of this place came with the night. But that didn't mean a dip in the river was safe. For this frail body, a plunge into that icy, filth-choked water would undoubtedly bring the fever roaring back, and likely finish me off for good.
“Is… is that right?” Jared asked, uncertain. He knew that in the depths of winter, even a hardy boy like himself wouldn’t dare go for a swim. It was pure torture. But then, he rarely bathed at all. The poor, the forgotten dregs of this city, had no time or energy for such luxuries. Bathing was a decadent ritual for the upper classes, a leisure activity for those with nothing better to do. Jared’s idea of a wash was getting caught in a downpour. The notion of entering a bathhouse, of paying for the privilege of being clean, had never even crossed his mind. My request had clearly shocked him.
“I should have known you wouldn’t understand,” I said with a sigh, rubbing my temples. “Alright. Let me explain to you the relationship between sickness and bathing.”
“Oh. Alright,” he said, and seeing my serious expression, he stood up straighter, ready to listen as if I were a schoolteacher.
“You know that catching a chill can make you sick, when the temperature changes too quickly,” I began, raising one finger like a lecturer. “That’s why you must stay warm when you’re ill. And if you’re weak, or if the weather is cold, you should always wash with hot water. No exceptions.”
“Right… so why not just… not wash at all?” Jared asked, a look of cunning triumph on his face. He was a clever one, in his own way, his logic simple and brutally effective.
“Because that’s only half the problem,” I countered, trying to piece together the half-remembered science from my old life. “Most sickness comes from germs—think of them as tiny, invisible insects that get inside your body. Washing with hot water kills these germs. Staying clean means you get sick less often.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “The Church… they say that hot baths open up the pores of the skin, and let the sickness and the bad humours enter the body.”
What? The Church said that? That was the same superstitious, lethal nonsense they’d peddled during the Black Death in my own world’s history. How could they know about airborne diseases and still believe such rubbish? This city wasn't just sick; it was actively trying to kill its inhabitants with bad advice.
“Don’t listen to that nonsense,” I said, my voice sharp. “The Church is full of charlatans who fear what they don’t understand. Who do you trust, Jared? Me, or a bunch of dusty old men in robes?”
He didn’t hesitate for long. He thought for a moment, weighing his loyalties, then gave a firm nod. “I trust you, Parula.”
“Good. Then remember this: cleanliness keeps sickness at bay. Now, are you coming with me to the bathhouse?” The Church’s foolishness had one upside, at least. He already had a concept of “germs,” so I didn’t have to explain that part.
“But… was this also in the whispers?” he asked, a hint of awe in his voice, his eyes wide.
“Yes,” I lied without a flicker of shame, seizing the opportunity, using his own superstition as a weapon. “Now, are you coming, or not?”
“But it costs money,” he said, returning to his original, most practical objection.
“And we just came into a bit of money, didn’t we?” I replied, and for the first time since I'd woken up in this hell, I smiled. A true, sharp, and brilliant smile.
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