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

Night had fallen, the stars filled the sky outside the window, while indoors the lights shone brightly.


In the spacious dining room there was a long, rectangular ivory-colored dining table. Darwin and Eld were seated on either side of the table in peach-wood chairs, while Arthur sat at the head of the table flipping through a book.


He muttered to himself, "Benjamin Disraeli, could it be that Disraeli who wrote 'Vivian Grey'?"


Eld's face was buried in a freshly baked issue of 'Boudoir Secrets', and while reading he asked, "What about him? Is he famous?"


Darwin, who had been intently studying a natural history magazine, said upon hearing this, "Now that Arthur mentions it, I recall that there has been such a figure in the British literary scene these past few years. However, Disraeli's reputation doesn't seem to be very good, as attacks on him have appeared in various literary magazines every now and then over the last few years."


Chapter 91 The Hyde Park Murder Case