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

Westminster, London, Whitehall No. 4, headquarters of the London Metropolitan Police.


Colonel Charles Rowan, the head of the Greater London Police Department, leaned back in his leather chair, his right hand pressing down on the desk, under which were several letters and some files that had just been retrieved from the archives.


Sitting across from him at his large desk was Police Superintendent Taylor Clements, sweat beading on his forehead but still maintaining a composed demeanor.


Colonel Rowan picked up the pipe on his desk and put it in his mouth. After lighting it, he took a few puffs, and the smoke momentarily obscured his face.


The only sound in the office was Colonel Rowan's unchanging, terrifying voice, "Clements."


Upon hearing this, Clements stood up and walked steadily to the window. Just as he was about to open it, he heard a whistling sound behind him.


Chapter 78: The Complex Real World