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

Chapter 43 A Match Made in Heaven

"!!"

Winston quickly withdrew his hand, a look of surprise and uncertainty on his face.

Eileen looked like she wanted to rush forward and pull Winston behind her: "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," Winston said, regaining his composure. "But this door feels strange to the touch. I feel something's off; it feels like something alive."

"Ah!" Margaret exclaimed, "I've experienced that too!"

She briefly recounted her experience in the reception room.

Winston relayed this to v1888.

v1888 said: 【I'm truly speechless. If you can't be your bomber, you have to be your telephone, huh? Is this how you promote technological development?】

It scratched its head for a while, then flew into the sewer and scratched a few words on the moss with its paws next to Norman Lovecraft:

"Alien species, extension, preparation."

Then he frantically flicked the unidentified liquid off his nails: "I'm not clean anymore."

Norman, true to his reputation as a master of the occult, stared at the crooked letters on the moss for a while, and actually came up with an idea:

"Does this mean Winston has encountered a mutant with the 'Extension' ability, and we should prepare to provide support?"

【Talking to smart people is so easy!】v1888 made a "caw" sound and flapped its wings hard to extend the word.

"You're asking me what 'extension' means...? No, it should be Winston asking."

Norman thought for a moment and said, "To be precise, it is 'extension,' which is a typical morphological paradox in the four signs method. It completely violates the principles established in the General Anatomy, namely that the volume and skeletal structure of organisms should be constant."

"In simple terms, this xenogene exhibits an extreme tissue rheology. Under a microscope, you can observe that its cells are not tightly interlocked like those of mammals, but rather more like highly active protoplasm. When it enters the 'extended' state, it can squeeze out from extremely narrow gaps like a mollusc, and then spread rapidly on walls or other objects like an out-of-control slurry."

He paused halfway through his speech, glanced at v1888, and muttered to himself, "Isn't this content too advanced for a bird's brain?"

You discriminate against me? Watch out, I'll get Winston to dock your pay.

v1888 relayed Norman's words to Winston verbatim.

After hearing this, Winston had a sense of "I knew it," and said calmly to Eileen and Margaret, "Indeed, that alien species has escaped, and Viscount Hammond can't contain it at all."

Eileen: "...What?! The guy with the hair on his stomach...where's Douglas??"

Winston pointed to the door panel: "Either you're in this skin, or you've been dragged into the basement."

Margaret understood immediately, gagged on the spot, and her face drained of color: "You mean, its leather covered that chair, and this door?"

Only Eileen remained confused: "Pee? What are you talking about, pee?"

Winston grabbed her wrist and pulled her back two steps, pointing to the door with his other hand: "Shh, look, it knows it's been exposed and is gradually revealing its true form."

As Winston spoke, the seemingly indestructible basement door began to exhibit a chilling "liquefaction" phenomenon. The paint adhering to the wood surface wrinkled, and a flesh-colored, translucent film seeped out from the cracks in the wood.

Its surface is covered with dense patterns and tiny bumps. Although it looks delicate and fragile, it is full of tension. Anyone can tell that it is "alive".

Looking along the door frame, this active cortical tissue is visibly climbing upwards, or rather, revealing itself.

The entire corridor ceiling was covered by this huge, vibrant fleshy membrane, stretching as far as the eye could see. Under the flickering candlelight, it appeared a vibrant pale pink, so much so that one might mistakenly believe they could see the intricate network of blood vessels below.

"How could this thing... have grown so big..." Eileen's voice trembled.

Margaret was still retching, clutching her stomach. It wasn't her fault; Winston also found the scene utterly disgusting. He endured the discomfort, quickly glancing around, and a few seconds later, spotted Roland Douglas.

He was trapped in the inner corner of the corridor.

The skin there was the thinnest, giving it a nauseating vacuum-sealed feel. The man's body was tightly bound between the corner of the wall and this membrane of flesh, his limbs unable to move, only his two eyeballs trembling incessantly in their sockets, filled with indescribable, extreme fear that Winston had never witnessed before.

Even though Winston had prepared himself mentally, his palms and back were still sweating after seeing this scene.

He wiped his hands on his suit trousers and said to Eileen, who had pulled out her pistol:

"Let's go."

Eileen couldn't believe it, her teeth chattering as she asked, "Leave? We're not going to save him?"

"They can't save her, let's go." Winston said quickly. "Go find the Viscountess. Every word she said to us was a lie, she's a wicked woman—and of course, Viscount Hammond is no less so, they're a perfect match, birds of a feather flock together."

"Mr. Douglas is probably beyond saving. I need to go check if the lady from before was killed by the Viscountess. Also, your gun is useless against the aliens, but it might be useful against the Viscountess."

"..." Eileen was persuaded by Winston, and they retreated from this dark corridor. There were still areas covered by skin outside, but they were much smaller. Margaret took a deep breath and finally stopped gagging.

The Viscountess was sleeping in a bed trimmed with lace.

Eileen, gun in one hand, rushed to the bedside, pulled back the covers, grabbed her neck with one hand, and pressed the muzzle of the gun against her forehead with the other.

"What did you do to Mr. Douglas? You made the aliens release him!"

"Cough cough!" The Viscountess coughed twice, opened her eyes, and said, "...What are you saying?"

Eileen: "Stop pretending! Didn't the mutants in the basement already come out?!"

Upon hearing this, a glint flashed in the Viscountess's eyes: "You mean it ran away? But Charlie said..."

"He's lying to you," Winston said calmly, leaning on his cane at a distance. "He already knew you secretly reported him to the police. To him, everyone in this house is just collateral damage. Why did you betray your husband?"

The Viscountess, her neck gripped by Eileen, struggled to lift her head to look at him: "...How did you know it was me?"

"Because Scotland Yard would never lie to me," Winston said condescendingly. "Viscount Hammond has been reserved since he learned that I possess the oracle. Only you have treated me as a member of the Birmingham Merchant Guild, leading me to suspect your husband and implying that I would die after meeting the Viscount, hoping that I would panic and report this to the authorities as soon as possible."

The Viscountess astutely grasped the key words in Winston's words, her eyes widening little by little:

"A divine oracle...? You are—!"