To be a good prime minister, I first became the leader of a secret religion.

Chapter 40, The Second Drop of Blood

The two had been talking for almost fifteen minutes when Winston realized that they had completely gone off on a tangent.

It turns out that Viscount Hammond thought he had come to the door after hearing that "every prime minister has attended the viscount's salon"!

Is the Prime Minister like a calico cat in your mind? Someone who can do anything and it all seems normal?

Winston asked, "Are you sure He won't pay attention to the newly appointed prime minister? Wait, let me double-check, aren't we talking about the country's 'emperor'?"

Viscount Hammond fell silent abruptly, and the accordion seemed to crackle slightly.

After a long pause, he asked cautiously, "Where did you hear the word 'emperor'?"

Winston leaned against the door behind him and said slowly:

"I also have my own curiosity, and when I have a lot of curiosity, I find out some things."

Viscount Hammond, unusually flustered, exclaimed, "But if you know He is the 'Emperor,' why did you become His Prime Minister?!"

Because I traveled through time.

The reasons why he didn't resign after transmigrating were simple: first, Winston had a system; second, he was targeted by the Ancient God the moment he opened his eyes! Being Prime Minister at least gave him power (and he would have it in the future anyway), but what would he have left in this dangerous world after resigning? A corpse with unspent money?

Winston embellished the sentence slightly, saying, "I didn't know then, and I now...like Mr. Jacobs, have unfinished business."

"..."

The viscount remained silent for a moment, then, as a divine heir, he said from the bottom of his heart, "A madman."

Winston, too lazy to argue, said, "Let's put irrelevant topics aside for now, Viscount. You haven't answered my question yet—are you sure He won't pay attention to the newly appointed Prime Minister?"

"Confirmed," Viscount Hammond replied crisply.

“Then the person sitting in front of you is probably an exception,” Winston said. “I felt His gaze during my inauguration.”

"!!!"

The accordion cracked again, and the Viscount said decisively, "Impossible! You look absolutely... impossible!!"

Winston: "It seems you really don't follow politics at all. Didn't you see the news this morning? I mentioned in my inaugural address yesterday that Her Majesty the Queen gave me an oracle."

There was silence at the other end of the attic. Winston could almost hear the buzzing of a biological CPU. Viscount Hammond repeatedly pondered Winston's words, his voice gradually fading:

"What brings you here?"

Compared to him, Winston's voice remained calm: "I want to live. Do you have a way to help me live?"

"No, I have no choice, Your Excellency. Death is inevitable; we will all die eventually."

Winston asked regretfully, "Is this all you can do?"

"...Perhaps we can try it together."

“Of course, I’ll come back to you if I need anything.” Winston stood up from the wooden stool. “I have one more—no, two questions. What’s wrong with the Viscountess’s leg?”

"Ah, you've even heard about that," the Viscount said softly. "Her parents were related by blood."

Winston: "? It's that simple?"

"Yes, you can let her answer you herself. Her father was her mother's cousin, and all her older brothers and sisters are in bad shape. Only she survived."

The atmosphere suddenly became scientific, and Winston didn't feel comfortable with it.

"Alright, one last question," he asked, frowning. "Where did you get your information about the cult activities, and why did you report it to Scotland Yard?"

"By the stars above!" Viscount Hammond exclaimed in surprise. "I have never done such a thing! Who told you this?"

"Scotland Yard," Winston said, even more surprised. "They wouldn't frame you for no reason."

"Of course, I didn't say they framed me, but I really didn't do it, and I've never even heard of it."

The Viscount said, "My schedule is very fixed. If I'm not hosting a salon, it's because I'm dealing with problems left to me by previous guests. I don't even leave the house normally."

Winston asked, "If you didn't report it, did someone impersonate you and contact the police?"

The Viscount laughed, his accordion humming. "I don't know, and I don't care. Scotland Yard isn't my territory, and you can't blame me for something I didn't do, can you?"

Winston had a guess in his mind, but he hadn't decided whether to say it. Just as he was hesitating, a woman's scream, as if she was terrified, suddenly rang out from outside the silent attic door!

Winston wasn't sure if the voice came from Margaret, Irene, or the maid who had led him there. Without hesitation, he gripped his cane tightly and pushed open the door.

"What happened?!"

The viscount's maid down the corridor didn't answer, but pointed into the darkness ahead and screamed again.

At the same time, Winston heard an annoyed and angry female voice:

"I told you not to whistle, I told you not to whistle, damn it, you're all going against me..."

Along with these words came heavy thuds of hammering, "bang, bang, bang," and the viscount's maid spoke in a tearful voice:

"Please stop hitting him, he didn't whistle..."

"lie!!!"

The woman shouted, "I just wanted him to shut up, what did I do wrong?!"

Winston strode down the stairs and saw the woman at the other end of the corridor, the one who had previously complained that her husband and daughter whistled every day.

Previously in the drawing room, she was wearing a well-tailored dark woolen dress with a pearl brooch at the neckline, and her hair was meticulously styled into a bun, hidden in an exquisite little silk hat. However, at this moment, her silk hat was nowhere to be seen, her black hair was draped over her shoulders like withered grass, and she was holding a brass chaff that had originally hung by the fireplace.

The metal rod that was originally used to pok at the charcoal fire was now a bloody mess, with some kind of gelatinous, dark red tissue stuck to the tip. The liquid that had congealed inside the gelatinous tissue was slowly dripping down with her heavy breathing.

Beneath her blood-splattered skirt lay a shadowy mass that vaguely resembled a human figure.

Winston couldn't tell who it was.

Even the forensic doctor and her own mother would have to study it for quite a while if they came.

He reached behind his back with his free hand, grasped the pistol tucked at his waist, and mentally notified V1888 to order the officers in the sewers to stand by, while speaking in a tone that was as non-hostile as possible:

"Calm down, ma'am."

"I can't calm down, it's not my fault!!"

The woman shouted.

"In the dead of night, he was whistling in the room next to mine. I went to knock on his door and politely told him to stop whistling so I wouldn't lose my temper. He wouldn't admit it and said I was crazy. We argued for a bit, and I couldn't hold back, so I picked up a candlestick and hit him. His head bled a little, and he fell to the ground and crawled towards the door. I couldn't believe I had done something so violent. This is not something a lady should do!"

"I feel so ashamed, but that's the problem. I've confessed, but he doesn't think he's done anything wrong at all. He keeps whistling that damn whistle as he crawls, he won't stop! I don't know what to do. He's about to die, but he's still whistling. I just want him to shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—"

Her face was contorted with rage as she raised the flaming dagger high in her hand.

Winston drew his revolver at the same time.

then.

"Bang!"