Chasing Time

“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.”
Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?”
The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?”
Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!”
“Oh!!!!”
The audience erupted into thunderous applause.
“Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately.
The applause grew even more fervent...
(The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)

The Shadow of Great Britain

On the road leading out of London, a nondescript public carriage rattled along.


Agares sat opposite, frowning at Arthur and the coffin next to him, shaking his head incessantly.


"Can't you stop meddling in such trifles all day, just find any graveyard and bury her. You're actually planning to step into a church you've never been in your whole life just to hold a funeral ceremony for her?"


Arthur showed no reaction to Agares's provocation. He lit his pipe and took a puff, enveloped in smoke, he felt relieved.


"I've been to places more absurd than a church in my life, it's really not that big of a deal."


The Red Devil pointed at him and glared, "Arthur, please get it straight, I'm not praising you!"


Arthur rested his hand on the window sill, his gaze drifting over the landscape of the fields in the distance, showing a touch of disinterest in his conversation with Agares.


Chapter 41: The factory has no holidays