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

Chapter 32 is utterly perverted no matter how you look at it.

The moment Inspector Angus stepped into 10 Downing Street, he sensed something was off.

His cheerful smile, which he had been maintaining all the way, suddenly froze on his face. He thought to himself, "This shouldn't be. The Prime Minister just won a victory in front of the media. It should be a time for celebration. Why is the atmosphere at the Prime Minister's residence so solemn?"

The detective cast a probing glance at Eileen, who was mopping the floor, but Eileen didn't even look up, completely ignoring him.

After a few seconds of stalemate, the detective sighed helplessly and, with a look of grim determination, strode inside.

There was no other way. It was already dark, and he had to get home before 10 p.m. His superiors had ordered him to see the Prime Minister today no matter what and to give a clear report on the process of "encircling and suppressing" Viscount Hammond.

Inspector Angus had no idea how he had become a go-between between Scotland Yard and the Prime Minister. Logically, such a good opportunity shouldn't fall to a lowly inspector like him...

It's all the fault of those henchmen who went with him to Regent's Park to arrest heretics that day.

"Mr. Prime Minister, please allow me, on behalf of Scotland Yard, to express our sincerest respect! Today's press conference was handled exceptionally well; it's a textbook example of how to deal with reporters that we won't see for a century!"

The detective was halfway through his congratulatory remarks when he noticed Winston's expression was starting to show signs of impatience, and a sudden thought struck him.

As a police officer whose job is to observe and arrest people, the detective believed he had gained a certain understanding of Winston after spending several days with him.

Regardless of whether this new prime minister is smart or capable, he at least has one outstanding skill.

It means that when you're face to face, he can see right through you!

Sometimes Inspector Angus wondered how Winston managed it. He himself wasn't exactly a master of flattery, but he was certainly quite skilled at it within Scotland Yard. Was it because the Scotland Yard officers were just too incompetent in this area...?

Fine, I'm better at swearing. He composed himself and changed the subject 180 degrees:

"I obtained two invitations to Viscount Hammond's reading salon from a chamber of commerce president named Bozis King."

Before Winston could ask, Inspector Angus introduced himself:

"Bozis King is the owner of a steel mill in Birmingham and the president of the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce. He came from humble beginnings and made his fortune in railroad construction when he was young. As his business expanded, he gradually rose to the local upper class and maintained stable relationships with many city councilors and aristocratic families."

"He is in his forties and is known as 'Birmingham's most respectable gentleman.' You'll see for yourself that this title is well-deserved. He is gentle, generous, and has been a long-time supporter of schools. He is very considerate of his workers and partners and is rarely known for being harsh. His reputation is consistent in both business and social circles."

Winston asked, "What is his relationship with Viscount Hammond?"

"It's alright," the detective replied. "Viscount Hammond likes to network with wealthy people of humble origins and get them to fund his social activities, so he occasionally sends them salon invitations."

It turned out to be the case.

Winston: "Then, in what capacity should I go?"

Inspector: "What do you think of Bozis King's Chamber of Commerce members? Anyway, you haven't been Prime Minister for long, and Viscount Hammond doesn't even know what you look like."

Winston: "...That's one way of saying it."

He pondered for a moment, then said, "I feel like the name Bozis King... sounds familiar."

v1888: [Like Burger(s) king.]

Winston: "..."

v1888: [This time, I wasn't the only one using bilingual puns; you thought so too, I could tell!!]

Inspector Angus, puzzled, asked, "That sounds familiar? You've heard of him?"

"No, I must have misremembered the name." Winston chuckled. "Give me the invitation. The location is 17 Bedford Place, Bloomsbury... and the time is Saturday evening at 7 p.m.? The salon only lasts two hours?"

Everyone has to be home before 10 o'clock, right?

"No, Viscount Hammond will provide food and lodging for everyone. You can choose to leave early or stay overnight at 17 Bedford Place."

The detective said, "Anyway, the next day is Sunday, so we don't have to work."

So this is what "nightlife" in parallel universes is like. Since you can't go out at night, why not just stay overnight? How does that sound even more exciting?

Winston: "Do I need to hide my identity the whole time?"

"Of course not. Invitations are just for show. If you want to show Viscount Hammond your identity as Prime Minister, you can do so anytime."

—Very good, next up is the story of Emperor Kangxi's incognito visit.

Inspector Angus, seeing Winston's enthusiastic expression, suddenly felt a pang of regret.

He felt that there was no risk involved and that it would please his superiors, so he helped get two invitations. But one shouldn't be too eager for advancement. After the superiors' feelings dissipated, the detective couldn't help but wonder, what if?

However, Viscount Hammond's salon has been legally held for many years. Even if the viscountess is a three-legged woman, even if the viscount himself is not human, even if the viscount has connections with heretics, there shouldn't be any problem... right?

"Perhaps you shouldn't go," the detective said after a long pause, "There might be danger."

"I will make my own judgment," Winston said firmly after accepting the invitation.

The detective had no choice but to accept his fate. Before leaving, Winston called him back: "Wait, Detective, I have a question that seems unrelated, just out of curiosity. As a police officer, have you ever worked on a case at night? If you were out and about and couldn't get back in time, and it was past 10 p.m., what would happen?"

Inspector Angus paused slightly as he pushed the door open: "There's no such thing as being too late, Prime Minister. Even just barging into someone's house is better than staying outside. But there was one time I did lose track of time while chasing a criminal... However, I can't really say exactly what happened that night."

"Because I black out at 10 o'clock."

"I regained consciousness at six o'clock the next morning. I found myself curled up in a narrow sewer entrance. One of my arms was broken, my joints were swollen and shiny, and I was in pain all over my body, but there were no obvious wounds."

"I struggled to squeeze through the roadside grille and got home without telling my worried family what had happened. So much time has passed that I no longer care about the physical pain. However, to be honest, the intense fear of the night still lingers in my heart. Since then, I have never left the house after 9:30 again."

……

In any case, Winston felt it was necessary to meet with Viscount Hammond.

Because he had inquired with the cultural administration group and the ministers, his private secretary Martin's guess was correct—every prime minister who had taken office this century since 1840 had met with Viscount Hammond.

Note that this refers to each term, including several prime ministers known for being "introverted" and "unsociable," and in 1840, Viscount Hammond was only 15 years old!

What on earth were you doing? It's all so perverted.

Winston wasn't a pervert; he felt there was a secret involved. Viscount Hammond was a genetically mutated hybrid divine descendant, and he must know how previous prime ministers dealt with Queen Victoria.

There were two invitations in total. Winston originally intended to give the other one to Margaret, since it would be more appropriate to bring a female companion to such an occasion. However, Margaret reported that she had obtained an invitation herself.

Cow!

Winston was troubled about who to take with the remaining invitation. He wished Professor Norman Lovecraft's wife were thirty years younger; it would be so reassuring to attend the salon with the "Gun God"...

"Perhaps you can take me there."

"Eileen said."