The Shadow of Great Britain

When the first ray of morning sunlight streamed through the Venetian blinds into the bedroom, the bed, clad in white sheets, had long been empty. Its owner had already washed up and had dressed in his attire, now standing in front of the mirror to straighten his appearance.

In front of the full-length mirror, Arthur Hastings was methodically, unhurriedly fastening each button of his tailcoat.

His attire included a glossy black top hat, a deep blue high-collared tailcoat, dark gray riding boots, slim-fit white trousers accessorized with shiny silver buckles and a leather belt, and on the right side of the belt, a thick, long wooden truncheon was clipped; on the left, a scabbard harboring a policeman's saber with distinct Victorian styling hung.

Staring at his reflection, he waved his hand to brush dust off the blue and white armband on his left arm, then he nodded slightly.

"Clad in this uniform, you really do look the part. Tsk tsk tsk, who would think that such a noble, distinguished young man could actually be a villain who had made a pact with the Devil?"

A sinister, chilly greeting sounded by Arthur's ear.

Strangely, there was no one else in the mirror besides Arthur.

However, as far as Arthur was concerned, that clearly wasn't the case.

His dark eyes flickered with a pale red glow.

"If it were not thanks to you, I should be sitting in a stock exchange or bank in London right now, admiring the beautiful scenery along the banks of the Thames while enjoying fine food and coffee, handling transactions of stocks worth hundreds of thousands, even millions of pounds, and simply uttering a few words could drive those blinded by money to madness. Instead, I'm here working with a mere twelve shillings a week, constantly moving through the dirtiest and most chaotic parts of the East End of London, risking my life dealing with thieves and murderers."

A phantom figure gradually materialized in front of Arthur.

The figure wore a colorful acrobat's outfit, adorned with a clown cap, a clown nose, painted in exaggerated red and white makeup, eyes bulging, with horns protruding from his head.

He lay across the frame of the floor mirror, his eyes filled with bloodshot red steadfastly fixed on Arthur.

Arthur stared blankly for a moment before he slightly frowned and said, "Agares, what's with this getup today?"

No sooner had he spoken than a frenzied laughter echoed in Arthur's ears, the jarring laughter seemingly penetrating his eardrums, almost as if opening his cranial vault and the roof above altogether.

"Happy April Fool's Day, Arthur!"

Agares laughed uproariously, delighted by Arthur's earlier confused and bewildered expression.

Arthur looked indifferently at the whimsical devil, then calmly bent down to pick up a red clown nose that had fallen to the ground.

"Here, you dropped your nose."

As Agares pinched the red nose between three fingers, he gleefully corrected.

"Oh, my dear Arthur. This isn't my nose, it's my breakfast today!"

"Your breakfast?"

Arthur looked closely and noticed that the red clown nose surprisingly had a pained human face on it, and he seemed familiar.

"Oh? Isn't that Professor Dumps? It's been over half a year since I graduated, how have you been during this time?"

The face on the red nose wailed, "Arthur, please don't let this demon torment me anymore! I admit I deliberately made things difficult for you academically, but didn't I arrange for you to graduate smoothly afterward? Why, why are you treating me this way?"

Arthur, indifferent to Professor Dumps' desperate pleas, merely shook his finger lightly.

"Mr. Dumps, that's a bit unfair of you to say, let me restore the facts for you.

The reason you let me graduate smoothly was not because you had a change of conscience, but because I caught you trying to force yourself on Elisa. And the reason I happened to be there was that I had arranged everything.

At that time, you promised me that as long as I kept the incident a secret, you were willing to do anything. Therefore, it's only natural that you surrender your soul, isn't it?"

"But...ahhhhhhhh!!!"

Before Dumps could finish, Agares tossed him into his mouth.

With vigorous chewing, crimson blood dribbled down his lips bit by bit.

Agares's features crumpled tightly together. As his throat moved with a gulp, accompanied by Dumps' painful wails, the devil rubbed his belly contentedly and belched loudly.

"For breakfast, this meal was a bit too sumptuous."

Arthur, evidently accustomed to such bloody scenes, even had the leisure to inquire, "How does it taste?"

Agares's tongue, half a meter long, swept over his mouth like a windshield wiper, scooping up the last bit of blood and residue.

"Delicious, just a bit stinky. Alright, let's see what's for lunch."

Agares snapped his fingers, and with flames dancing on his fingertips, a menu bound in leather materialized in his palm.

He casually flipped through a few pages, his eyes suddenly brightened as he pointed at an illustration on one page and shouted to Arthur, "Hey, Arthur, what do you think of this one?"

As Arthur was adjusting the hair at his temples, he glanced at the menu, which depicted a beautiful young girl with pale golden hair holding a white lace umbrella.

He casually asked, "You want to eat Elisa?"

Agares closed his eyes, imagining it. His mouth uncontrollably began to drool profusely.