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

Chapter 51 The Sun Rises

"That's good." Eileen breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Did you see which way it ran... Never mind, it doesn't matter where it ran, as long as it doesn't come back."

Good people in this world are all from the heart.

Eileen continued, "All the other servants in the Viscount's manor are dead; it seems only Enid is left."

Enid looked at Winston gratefully and whispered, "It was this gentleman who taught me how to protect myself after he learned I was new here; otherwise, I probably would have died too."

Winston raised an eyebrow slightly.

What he taught Enid wasn't some method of self-defense. While the maid might have lacked knowledge of the mystical and mistaken the sacrificial ritual for a life-saving one, Winston, in order to ensure the Viscountess's strength against the aliens was sufficient, had clearly identified the sacrificial offering.

If the Viscountess was a high priest forced into the role, then Enid, who followed Winston's instructions to place the spell materials in a fixed location, write down the full names of her colleagues in Latin, collect their personal belongings, even their hair, nails, or blood, and draw some mysterious symbols that Winston copied verbatim from the "Natural Anomalies," could also be considered a minor priest.

This job was not easy, which is why Winston had Margaret Lisa assist him.

Enid, who was so clear about what she was doing, could not possibly be unaware of what she was doing.

Now she insisted that Winston had taught her how to protect herself, not because she was stupid; on the contrary, she was too smart.

Winston had been trying to figure out how to keep quiet, but now he was spared the trouble. The cause of death of the Viscount's servant had been determined: he died during a ceremony, but the murderer was undoubtedly the ruthless Viscount Hammond.

Once the charges and the perpetrators are clear, the rest is much simpler: just catch them before dawn.

A large group of men arrived at the attic in a menacing and imposing manner. Inspector Angus kicked open the attic door:

Scotland Yard!

There is an internal taste.

But there was still a door inside, something Winston forgot to mention beforehand.

The detective looked embarrassed, but he calmed himself down and took a few more steps forward before kicking again with all his might.

Scotland Yard!

The small door between the confessional and the attic opened.

The space revealed a sight Winston had never seen before—three-quarters of the bookshelves had been emptied, supporting a low ceiling, while the remaining wall had a rectangular wooden table with a pile of oddly shaped experimental instruments on it, made of what looked like brass, glass, or ceramic, all covered in dust.

In the very center of the attic stood a high-backed armchair, facing a metal music stand with a stack of handwritten sheet music on it.

As outside air rushed into the attic, the sheet music suddenly began to burn.

Inspector Angus rushed over and tried to swat the sheet music with his coat, but he couldn't save it.

In less than a second, all that remained before people's eyes was ashes.

On the high-backed chair sat an old accordion with yellowed keys. The detective bent down and pressed all the black and white keys in turn, but he did not hear any sound.

"broken."

He said, with a double meaning, "Damn it, Viscount Hammond isn't here."

It's obvious that Viscount Hammond isn't here. The question is, when exactly did he leave... or was he not here at all last night?

Winston had a premonition after the sacrificial ceremony was successfully completed so easily.

"Prepare the arrest warrant after dawn," he said to the detective, recalling the Viscount Hammond's strange accordion-like voice. "Also, investigate the Viscount's assets. I heard he sold all his properties in London."

This can be considered another benefit of the sacrificial ceremony:

Winston received a small fragment of the Viscountess's memory.

Setting aside memories of being bullied by his peers, what Winston cared about most were, firstly, Viscount Hammond's behavior, and secondly, the man known as Colonel Moriarty.

The Viscountess discovered that her husband was secretly selling off his property, which aroused her suspicion. She then sought help from Colonel Moriarty, ultimately leading to the bitter consequences she faces today.

First, why did Viscount Hammond suddenly decide to sell the house?

This behavior is commonly seen among officials who, knowing they have violated the law and are about to be punished, flee with a bucket...

But Viscount Hammond did not need to change his position; his career was thriving, and no one ever suspected him of being a heretic before his wife "framed" him.

Winston quickly came up with another, very simple possibility: that the Viscount anticipated a sharp drop in the London property market and was therefore making a preemptive move to profit from the situation.

However, a housing market collapse is also a terrible assumption, typically occurring during financial crises, wars, sudden major disasters, or when a property becomes a haunted house...

Thinking about these things now was pointless, Winston thought for a while and then stopped, turning his attention to the man "Colonel Moriarty".

This person's name is quite meaningful! Just like H.P. Lovecraft's!

Winston would find it hard not to see him as the culprit, but in Holmes's novels, the infamous consulting criminal is a mathematics professor, not a colonel.

If his title of "colonel" was not self-proclaimed, then this "Colonel Moriarty" might still be serving in the current government!

They've become Winston's side!

Winston was once again certain that he wasn't a good person after all. He wasn't in a hurry to ask anyone about Colonel Moriarty; too much had happened last night, and everything needed to be dealt with slowly, one thing at a time.

The most important task right now is to wait for the sun to rise, then everyone can go home, some to sleep, some to collect the bodies, some to write reports, and some to become prime ministers.

The crazy woman who always accused others of whistling is dead, from a gunshot wound. As for the escaped black-haired demon, well, it didn't hurt anyone, so let's wish it well...

【Huh?】

V1888, who was guarding the machine gun in the Viscount's backyard, suddenly spoke up, "Have you finished fighting over there? It looks like something is rushing towards me."

[Dark and fluffy, it looks like a kitten, strangely cute. What's that saying again? When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you...]

[Holy crap, it's not a cat!]

Holy crap! It looks like a gorilla! How can there be a gorilla in Britain?! It actually charged at me!

"There are no black eagles in Britain either," Winston said casually, uttering a remark he had long wanted to make.

【Holy crap!!】

v1888 cursed angrily, its feathers bristling in terror as it watched the alien creature charging towards it. The next second, it remembered that there was a weapon under the treetop.

A machine gun that hasn't yet been fired or heated tonight.

The black gull swooped down in an instant, grabbed the machine gun lever with its claws, and pulled it outward with all its might!

[I can't take off with a machine gun, so I can't even use it? Take this bullet! Rat-a-tat ...

The dense flames instantly illuminated the night, becoming the prelude to dawn.

The bullets left no visible trails, but the dust and gravel they kicked up exploded continuously on the ground, tearing grass blades apart, churning up soil, and sending tiny pebbles spinning in the air before falling silently.

The alien species charging towards v1888 seemed to slow down at this moment.

Its muscles remained in a forward-leaning posture, but its hair was whipped up by the airflow, falling backward one by one. When the first bullet hit it, it did not immediately knock it over, but instead pressed a dent into its body, followed by the second and the third.

Its momentum crumbled, its body leaned back little by little, its feet slid off the mud, and its movements changed from a fierce pounce to a powerless struggle.

Finally, there was a loud "bang".

It fell to the ground.

The sun has risen.