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

Chapter 12 Imperial Relatives

On the one hand, there is an increase in authority; on the other hand, Winston is now very unhappy.

Objectively speaking, he is an emotionally stable person. He can laugh off minor setbacks in daily life and has a mild temperament. He almost never gets into conflicts with irrelevant people who have no conflict of interest with him.

However, objectively speaking, there's an old saying that goes, "The better-tempered a person is, the more terrifying they can be when they get angry."

Winston was currently burning with rage, directed at this damn parallel universe, and had nothing to do with Martin, so he had already restrained himself when speaking to Martin.

"I'm going to buy a sandwich. There's a list of cabinet members I wrote down last night under the desk in my office. Go get it yourself."

"...We received the list this morning, Prime Minister. It was sent by Her Majesty the Queen. She said it has passed the review. You had a hard night last night."

Martin carefully chose his words, "I know a nice coffee shop nearby. Why don't we walk over and sit there for a while? We can talk over coffee if we need anything. If you're still planning to hire a servant and a chef, I know a reliable agency..."

"Alright," Winston interrupted him. "Like you said, let's go to a coffee shop and talk."

Martin offered no objection, put his hat back on, and led the way. Winston stared at the top of his head, where a small label stood:

[Fanatical Believer]

I really couldn't tell.

If Winston in the past possessed a gentleness typical of people in peacetime, to the point that the park gardener mistook him for a student, then Martin Grayling was the quintessential middle-class gentleman of his time, extremely concerned with propriety and self-restraint, his words and actions strictly adhering to etiquette, and completely unrelated to the word "arrogance."

But Winston noticed a crucial point.

Martin's attitude toward him improved twice, both times because of Queen Victoria.

The first time was in the brainwashing room at St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

Winston pondered for a long time, unable to understand why loyalty had increased. So he reread the system's fabricated memories and discovered that the turning point was that in the memories, Winston clearly expressed his dissatisfaction with the "reformers" and even wanted to eliminate them in an extremely extreme way. This attitude actually resonated with Martin, making him feel good about Winston.

The second time was last night.

For some reason, the list of cabinet ministers that Winston had written ended up with the Queen and was subsequently made public by her. From Martin's perspective, this meant that Winston had a special channel to contact the Queen, which is why he was so tolerant of Winston this morning, almost like meeting his brother-in-law before his wedding.

I never imagined that one day I would be the one using someone else's power to bully others.

Winston thought with emotion.

I don't know why Martin is so loyal to an Old God?

Are you also the leader of a Tantric sect?

The two sat down in the coffee shop. Winston took a sip of his hot, unsweetened, milk-free, purely bitter coffee and posed his first question of the day:

"I'm currently also serving as Home Secretary. When will Scotland Yard come to report to me on the matter of esoteric Buddhism?"

"..." Martin looked very embarrassed.

"Really?" Winston sat up slightly upon seeing this. "Not even a single clue?"

Martin shifted his weight on the chair, not answering immediately, but instead looking around and covering his mouth with his hand: "Well, as far as I know, there are some, but it's difficult to investigate."

Why?

"Because," Martin leaned even lower, "you mustn't reveal that I spread this rumor, and I can't guarantee it's 100% true. In short, there's a rumor that the prime suspect is a relative of the emperor."

The term "relatives of the emperor" was uncommon, and it took Winston three or four seconds to process it, until a black eagle flew overhead and called out:

State-owned enterprises! State-owned enterprises!

Winston: "..."

If you dare to use bilingual puns again, I'll find another bird to mess with you.

"What does 'imperial relatives' refer to...?"

Martin's eyes were burning with excitement, and it was unclear what he was so excited about: "What I'm about to tell you is a secret that only circulates among the Prime Minister and the top cabinet members—Queen Victoria, although she has never married, is not without offspring."

"These offspring were not born after He united with other living beings, but rather His great spirit descended upon certain fortunate human beings, enabling them to conceive and give birth to the offspring of God and man."

Winston: "?"

"Mixed-race individuals look no different from humans and blend in with other royalty and nobility, making them indistinguishable at first glance. However, their lifespans are far longer than ordinary people, so over time, clues will inevitably emerge."

Martin said, "Viscount Hammond is one of them. He is 63 years old but looks like he is in his twenties. Scotland Yard suspects that he is the one who reported the terrorist attacks, but they have been unable to get any more information from him."

"Viscount Hammond, is it... I see." Winston noted the name down. "And who leaked the information to the public?"

Martin: "I don't know. Scotland Yard suspects it's an internal problem and is still investigating."

This efficiency is so remarkable; no wonder it gave birth to Sherlock Holmes.

Winston shook his head repeatedly.

Seeing that his secretary had told him everything she knew, he changed the subject: "The next question concerns the Queen, Martin. How often does the Prime Minister typically report to Her Majesty?"

Martin casually replied, "About a month."

Winston's face immediately paled.

He quickly took a sip of coffee to cover his embarrassment and tentatively asked, "So, how did the previous prime ministers... maintain, well, their mental stability after their audience with the Queen?"

Seeing the questioning look in Martin's eyes, Winston added, "What I mean is, being in close proximity to His Majesty can be very stressful. How did former prime ministers manage to relax?"

Martin thought for a moment and said, "I'm not sure either. After all, I only gave you one prime minister to be my private secretary. None of the civil servants around the former prime minister have discussed these things with me. But I guess they must each have their own ways of relieving stress. On this point, I still suggest consulting Viscount Hammond. His dinner parties and salon gatherings are very famous, so he is very well-informed."

It was Viscount Hammond again.

Winston raised an eyebrow and asked, "Is his information network better than yours?"

Martin laughed and said, "You flatter me. I just happen to know some inside information about the Cabinet and the Royal Family. As for Viscount Hammond... you can't be wrong to put all your imaginations about playboys on him. His expertise in pleasure far surpasses that of professors who have studied for many years. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me that the previous prime ministers were all his lovers."

……

That being said, Winston could not immediately go and find Viscount Hammond.

His job was beckoning him; Martin had given him a briefcase full of reports from various ministers. If he annotated them quickly enough, he would have time that afternoon to go to an agency to hire a suitable maid.