The Shadow of Great Britain

220: Chapter 150: You Really Are a Genius, Kid (4K4) 220: Chapter 150: You Really Are a Genius, Kid (4K4) Bayswater, Lancaster Gate No.

36.

In the room at dusk, the pale yellow light of the setting sun shone through the window glass onto Arthur’s face, illuminating his deep black eyes.

Sitting at the desk, Arthur might as well have been shooting from both sides.

In his left hand, he held the left-wing and right-wing organs of the Whig Party, “Edinburgh Review” and “The Morning Post,” while in his right, he cradled those of the Tory Party, “The Observer” and “The Quarterly Review.”

Given the aggressive headlines on the several newspapers, Arthur reasonably believed that if the newspapers were alive, as soon as he let go, the four would likely start fighting immediately.

The Red Devil leaned casually on the windowsill, whistling a tune, “So, Arthur, learned anything?

Or rather, when will you send that old fucker into my mouth?”

“Into your mouth?” Arthur set down the newspapers and raised an eyebrow at him, “Why do you think I’ll definitely win in my duel with Rowan?”

“Oh…

my dear Arthur.” The Red Devil pressed his hands together in mock prayer, “You little rogue, do you think I don’t know you well enough?

If you weren’t fully prepared, how would you dare to provoke your boss?”

“Then you really don’t know me enough.”

Arthur opened the sugar pot in front of him, took a piece, and casually tossed it into his mouth, “I’ve emphasized many times, I’m not a man of great ambition.

If there’s something I can do, I’ll do it, and if I can’t, I’ll let it be.

If there’s something I absolutely must do, it’s definitely because it greatly affects my mood.”

In other words, if Rowan had spoken to me nicely today, I might have agreed to his request for my resignation as long as I could see the Anatomy Act pass.

Then there wouldn’t be much about my job at Scotland Yard, with an annual salary of 150 pounds, that I’d regret losing.

But he had to speak to me with that tone, as if I had set my heart on the seat he warms.

That certainly made me angry.

He doesn’t understand me, just like you don’t, just as Shakespeare said: Better to be a wildflower under the hedge than a courted rose.

Rather be despised than fawn and beguile the heart of others.

What’s most important in life is happiness.”

The Red Devil’s eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing this, “Yeah, but you’re unhappy now, aren’t you?”

“Right.” Arthur chewed on the sugar cube, “So this time, even if I can’t topple him, I need to make some trouble for him, and incidentally, it would be best if I can create some lasting effects.

I must say, Duke Wellington’s self-staged ‘suicide attack’ gave me a lot of inspiration.

Although it was a bold move that could lose an election, it does look quite dashing in the eyes of outsiders.”

“Wait…”

The Red Devil’s eyes widened on hearing this, “You little bastard, just what are you planning to do?

Damn it!

You fucking want to emulate Wellington?

Have you gone mad?

Even if he falls, he’s still a Duke and can still live in his grand house at London No.

1.

But what about you?

Think about yourself.

If you lose, you’ll have nothing!

Don’t forget, you didn’t graduate from Cambridge or Oxford, you damn well graduated from the University of London!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “If Eld heard you say that, even if you’re the Devil, even if you tied him to a stake, he’d certainly curse you out.”

On hearing this, the Red Devil acted as though he had smelled something foul and waved his nose, “Typically, someone like Eld isn’t worthy of the stake; he’s usually the one doing the lighting.”

Arthur just shrugged.

He patted the chair beneath him and said, “I’m not sure what will become of Eld.

But even if I lose, don’t worry too much about me.

This house of mine may not be as grand as Wellington’s London No.

1, but it’s still not small.

You know, I never anticipated in my life, let alone in my past life, that I would live in such a house; relatively speaking, I’m already a successful man.”

The Red Devil chuckled, “Oh really?

This house is yours?

I truly didn’t know that.

Have you forgotten about the mortgage you owe Mammon?

The monthly repayment of three pounds and eight shillings, with a term of ten years.”

Arthur slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “My God!

Agares, thanks for reminding me.

I thought my loan term was for thirty years.”

“Arthur!!!!!”

The Red Devil’s head blazed with fire, his eyes suddenly grew huge, sharp as moons in the sky, with his sharp eyelashes pressing against Arthur’s chest, ready to pierce his heart like a sword at any moment.

Arthur calmly pulled a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wiped off the spit that had sprayed on his face, “I told you before, we can talk about anything else, like potatoes, but don’t push me on the house, because I have seen worse.”

The Red Devil took several deep breaths, then raised two fingers to his face and forced a gentle smile, “You little bastard, sometimes I can’t tell which one of us really came from Hell.”

Arthur took a sip of tea, “Of course it’s you.

We can’t handle too strongly flavored stuff where I come from.”

“Huh…” Agares sighed, “Alright, you win, but you also lose.

But what’s the use in beating me in an argument?

Aren’t you still going to lose to that annoying Charles Rowan?”