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

Chapter 22 No wonder... That's really strange!

Social anxiety disorder is not something to be taken lightly!

This was the first time Winston had encountered this type of socially awkward person, so he quickly replied, "Are semantic parasites also a different species?"

“That’s right.” Norman answered crisply. “The study of alien species in the occult community has been ongoing, but there has never been a unified conclusion. Even John Halwick’s ‘Four Signs Method’ has been questioned by many people. That’s why the monster you encountered does not meet any of the four signs, but I still say it should be an alien species—after all, that thing can’t possibly be a person.”

"Semantic parasites are an alien species whose existence has not yet been proven, because their characteristic is that they 'disappear once observed.' In other words, although semantic parasites unknowingly devour the adjectives in books, those adjectives return when you concentrate on reading, and the semantic parasites hide again. When you relax your vigilance, they will reappear, making you sluggish, distracted, unable to concentrate on reading, and suddenly falling asleep while reading manuscripts and documents..."

Winston: "..."

He still thinks this semantic parasite can be translated as laziness cancer.

Each generation has its own modifiers for laziness.

But then again—"I think semantic parasites do exist," Winston said solemnly. "I encounter them occasionally."

"Right?!" Norman exclaimed, as if he'd found a kindred spirit. "They're getting more and more brazen; they come to visit me every few days!"

"I have one last question," Winston said. "Do you have magic? Is alchemy a kind of magic?"

The system didn't even include the word "magic".

I don't know if it's because the limit on the number of entries is not high enough, or if Norman doesn't have the relevant information.

Norman was startled again by his question, pursed his lips, and gave a slightly bitter smile:

"The questions you raised today... are quite frightening. To be honest, if you weren't the Prime Minister, I would never have discussed this with you so much. Even though the government has never prohibited the study of these topics, there is a saying that mysticism originated from alien species, so its knowledge itself is taboo, and its dissemination is also taboo. No one knows whether our conversation today will have profound consequences in the long run."

"I came to this path by chance, but you have a bright future ahead of you and should not be concerned with these filthy and blasphemous things. If it is only to eliminate heretics, you can simply give the order and someone will be willing to do it for you."

Winston paused for a moment, then said, "However, I already know a great deal. How can you be so sure that my past and future are as smooth as you imagine?"

Norman was momentarily speechless, and after a few breaths, he sighed and said in a hoarse voice:

"Magic... is the most extravagant and useless power in the world."

"I am an ordinary person. Alchemy is something I have painstakingly studied and learned. Magic, on the other hand, is far more mysterious, vast, and difficult to define than alchemy."

"The most harmless spells are mostly innate—a very small number of people will spontaneously learn a kind of magic during their growth, and these spells are like a brand on their souls, allowing them to use them directly without preparing spellcasting materials and rituals."

"For example, Dina was the first person I met who could use magic."

Norman paused here, his mind involuntarily flashing back to the carefree, frivolous, and happy days he spent with her in his youth.

Compared to the dust and regrets of today's life, the scenes in my memories shine like gold.

"...The bullets fired from her gun are guaranteed to hit their mark every time," Norman said, hunching over. "However, the number of these enchanted bullets is limited, and the daily limit varies. We haven't figured out the pattern yet, and can only guess that it's completely random."

Winston seemed to understand something, then suddenly said, "Margaret Zeller too?"

Norman: "What?"

Winston: "She's a witch, didn't you realize?"

Norman: "What???"

Winston had noticed long ago that ever since Margaret Sandra became so determined to join MI5, an undeniable label had appeared on the top of her head: the word "witch"...

Let me say it again, the Union Jack is indeed full of hidden talents.

Norman was stunned by this sudden information for a long time, muttering, "No wonder... how strange! In the first sixty years of my life, I've only encountered one spellcaster, Dina. Why are there so many strange people and events happening these past few days?"

Winston shrugged, indicating that it was none of his business.

The pollution from top to bottom, the prime minister watched by the ancient gods—none of these exist.

"Then why do you say magic is the most extravagant and useless power? Aren't Margaret and your wife's spells quite effective?"

"Because they belong to the luxurious segment," Norman replied. "They're lucky enough to learn magic without paying any price. But there are other spells in this world that even those without talent can cast, requiring you to spend a long time preparing countless rare materials, and finally offering a part of your soul in exchange for a result more perfunctory than children playing house. For example..."

He pointed to the fireplace downstairs.

"You used money from the national treasury, along with treasures collected from all over the country, to hold a grand ceremony, and finally unleashed a fireball spell that set the fireplace downstairs on fire."

"This is the most useless miracle."

"...I see, I understand now." Winston, who could really use the money in the national treasury plus treasures collected from all over the country to hold a grand ceremony and finally set the fireplace downstairs on fire with a fireball, said, "Spellcasting doesn't even require magic?"

Norman: "I have never heard of such a request, nor have I ever seen anyone other than a madman, a fraudster, or a Gypsy claim to possess magic."

What's inside my body?

Has it really fostered a fighting spirit in them?

Winston tried to extract some more esoteric knowledge from Norman, but the old man's condition deteriorated rapidly in the next few seconds. He leaned against the movable ladder next to the bookshelf, his face pale, his hands trembling as he scratched his arms, making a chilling sound like sandpaper rubbing against skin. His gaze also fell to the ground, no longer meeting Winston's eyes.

Upon seeing this, Winston immediately said, "I'll leave now."

As soon as he finished speaking, Norman's expression improved slightly. Winston quickly went downstairs alone to greet Martin, who was sitting in the living room in a daze:

"I'm gone."

He stood at the door, about to pull the bolt, when Norman upstairs suddenly said, "Wait a moment, Prime Minister."

Winston stopped moving.

"You don't need to worry about encountering the alien creature from the Prime Minister's residence again," the old man said vaguely. "It failed to attack last time... and learned its lesson. Although there are no guards, Her Majesty the Queen may have made some extra arrangements. You are the leader of this country, and She won't let you face danger unprotected in your own home..."

In a direction unseen by anyone, Winston's eyes darkened.

"I understand," he replied calmly.

"May the stars bless you. Goodbye, Professor Lovecraft."