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

Chapter 8 Mystic Expert and Gun God

The old professor agreed to join MI5, a secret official investigatory organization. MI5's direct superior was Winston Wheeler, the leader of a secret society, so the old professor was naturally considered a member of the secret society.

Therefore, Winston can use the Eye of Insight to see his tags.

The system's definition of the label was rather vague. Winston only understood what it referred to after using the skill. He saw a black box hanging above Norman Lovecraft's head, with the following words written in white:

[Occult Expert]

Yo!

Is this for real? A Latin teacher who used to teach at an ordinary middle-class high school is actually an expert in the occult? No wonder he has that name; Winston himself didn't even get the title of expert in the occult, despite having 200 occult studies.

Admittedly, his score of 200 was entirely due to Queen Victoria's attention; he had absolutely no real talent or ability whatsoever...

But could a mystic expert from an atypical Cthulhu worldview possibly be mentally sound? Wouldn't he attract the attention of some evil spirits? His question to Winston about whether he suspected him of being a cult terrorist—wasn't that an admission of guilt?

Winston stared at Norman thoughtfully for a long time, mainly trying to see if the man showed any signs of suddenly becoming mentally ill.

At this moment, his eyes no longer resembled those of a polite and well-behaved high school student. Norman met his gaze and was unconsciously startled, suddenly pulling himself out of the friendly classroom atmosphere and recalling the latter's identity as prime minister.

Actually, there's also the reason why Winston's personal attributes changed after the mission was completed.

"You..." The old professor was a little nervous, his shoulders shrank forward, and he looked around for his wife. "My wife should be done with her call. Let's go take a look."

"Let's go."

Winston also wanted to see what labels were attached to his wife.

On the way, he relied on his physical instincts to engage in mutual flattery with Norman while simultaneously opening his attribute panel.

[Host: Winston Wheeler]

[Position: Head of a Tantric sect (concurrently serving as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom)]

[Management Skills: 1→6]

[Authority: 0→5]

【Charm: 2→7】

[Mysticism: 200]

[Rationality: 75/100]

[Passion: 1→10 (Apathy→Just going through the motions)]

The first few attributes each gained five points due to the establishment of the investigator organization, which seemed much more normal. However, Winston himself didn't feel any change. Management ability is something that lacks comparison, authority...

He glanced at the old professor beside him and sensed that the man's attention was entirely focused on his wife, and he wasn't even slightly intimidated by his domineering aura.

Are system attributes really useful?

The biggest change is in passion. Currently, Winston feels that "passion" is the most useful. The description of "doing one day at a time" also fits his current mood. Isn't that just taking it one day at a time in his position as the leader of the cult...?

When I've accumulated enough passion, I'll take all the members of the secret cult to St. Bartholomew's Hospital for a team-building event. Wouldn't it be just around the corner for the British government to become my personal fiefdom?

Thinking this way, Winston felt even more excited than he had been a second ago.

Just then, he caught a series of harsh, unpleasant bird calls.

"Isn't me the most useful of the system rewards?" A black eagle, head held high, jet black, with crimson eyes and a strange mask-like appearance due to the lack of feathers on its neck, landed on a treetop and cried out, "Next time something like this happens, you won't even need help. I'll chase all those stupid human bastards away."

"..." Having already confirmed with the system that v1888's body did not possess combat power exceeding that of a normal bird, Winston ignored it and turned to look at Margaret, who had already been rescued.

The girl looked to be only eighteen or nineteen years old. Her red curly hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes were like two emerald green amber lamps. Her midface was dotted with a few freckles. She was indeed beautiful, and her features were even more outstanding than some Hollywood actresses that Winston had seen on television in his previous life. No wonder she became an instant hit in the Gilded Circus.

But she wasn't currently a member of the Cult, so Winston couldn't see her label and quickly turned his attention to Norman's wife.

This guy is the real commoner god of war!

The old lady had two large characters on her head:

[Gun God]

Winston was captivated by what he saw.

As expected of the Union Jack, it truly is a place where hidden talents abound.

Unfortunately, the old lady didn't like to chat, and Winston still didn't know her name. He only knew that Norman called her "darling," and as soon as he saw her win against three opponents, he immediately went up to her and asked her what was wrong.

Winston, having just been fed up with this old dog food, looked away in boredom, then pondered for a moment at the trembling Margaret Lisa before saying to Norman:

"Professor Lovecraft, if you have time, please take her under your wing."

"Prime Minister...?" Norman looked up from his wife's shoulder, looking somewhat confused.

“No need for special instruction. Just have her come over one or two days a week to do chores and water the garden,” Winston said. “I feel she has a lot of talent.”

He turned to Margaret, "Would you be willing to spend one or two days a week visiting Regent's Park?"

To be honest, his invitation was completely out of the blue.

A normal person who has just experienced a terrible day, betrayed by a close friend, and almost lost their life, is not in the mood to listen to a stranger and frequently come to this place that has left them with psychological trauma, to work for someone for free.

But Margaret is not a normal person.

A slight blush of excitement rose on her face, and without hesitation, she said, "I do!"

Norman was stunned. He looked at Winston, then at Margaret, and nodded, saying, "Alright then...you can come see me every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday."

"Thank you." Margaret Satie calmed down and bowed to him.

Winston was mentally preparing what else he needed to say when the girl timidly asked, "Excuse me... do you also live around here? Is 'Prime Minister' your title?"

Huh? What nickname? She doesn't recognize me?

Winston paused for a moment under Norman's teasing gaze, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the era of new media dominating the world was over.

Although cameras are becoming increasingly common, the cost of printing photos in newspapers is very high. It is perfectly normal for ordinary people to only know the prime minister's name but not what he looks like. If they do not follow current affairs news, they probably don't even know the prime minister's name.

Margaret hadn't expected to meet the real Prime Minister and thought Norman's use of Winston was just a code name.

Having figured this out, Winston felt both amused and speechless. Would it make the newly appointed prime minister seem even less dignified if he were to take the initiative to correct Margaret's perception?

Never mind, never mind. Winston went along with her words:

“Yes, you can call me that too. I’ve been quite busy lately and can’t find the time. If anything comes up, I can only send someone to deliver a message. If you want to find me…” he said to Norman, “you know how to contact me.”

Norman nodded silently.

"That's all for today," Winston said in a relaxed and cheerful tone. "Thank you for your hard work. I have to head back to downtown and must go now. Have a peaceful night."

……

After Winston left, Margaret said there was still a performance by the circus and hurried away, leaving only the Lovecrafts couple standing in the center of Regent's Park, looking at each other.

After a long while, the old woman tossed the gun barrel aside and said calmly:

"What's going on? Didn't you insist on retiring due to health issues back then? Have you found yourself another job?"

Norman Lovecraft felt a pang of guilt and feigned anger, saying:

"You don't know, Winston Wheeler is a master of pretense. No wonder he became Prime Minister. I almost fell for his act myself. How come I never noticed his talent when I was his teacher?"