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

At dusk, Disraeli sat on a bench next to Hyde Park, gazing at the rising moon and stars and letting out a long sigh.


Suddenly, he clutched his head in agony and bellowed twice at the sky. His cry not only scared the passersby but also startled a red-eyed raven that had flown from the Tower of London to feast on fruit in the park.


As the ravens flapped their wings and fled, a feather as dark and deep as the night sky landed in Disraeli's palm.


He looked at the feather, feeling an urge to cry without tears.


Although he had known he would not be elected as a representative, receiving only three votes was still quite a blow to him.


According to his calculations, he should have had at least four sure votes.


One from his father, one from his uncle, one from a friend he had grown up with, and one from himself.


Already distressed by the betrayal of his close friends and family, Disraeli could not bear to confront them, but keeping it inside made him feel even worse.


Chapter 162: Introducing You to a Lucrative Writing Business