I finally pulled my eyes away from the repetitive street scenes and turned them toward Frederick Clayton and William Helms.
As always, William was calmly puffing on his pipe. Frederick sat like a statue, staring at me with that faint, unchanging smile.
I glanced at the Head Butler and muttered inwardly,
Why do I feel like I'm under surveillance…? Why the hell is Frederick Clayton looking at me like that?!
Then I shifted my gaze to William Helms, my chief advisor, and thought to myself,
*Say goodbye to your lungs, my friend… You smoke that pipe more than addicts smoke cigarettes.*
I closed my eyes gently, hoping to drift off without any more thoughts, when the carriage suddenly lurched violently.
William's pipe clattered to the floor.
Frederick's smile vanished instantly; his expression turned deadly serious.
At last he looked away from me.
Well—at least the pressure was gone.
But then Frederick lunged toward the door—probably intending to open it and reprimand the coachman. Or at least that's what I assumed.
I couldn't help thinking: sure, automobiles haven't been invented in this world yet, and trains are the height of modern transport, but opening the door of a moving carriage is just idiotic.
Keeping my composure, I half-opened my eyes and glanced at Frederick from the corner of my vision.
"Sit back down."
The door had opened only the width of a fingertip to palm, but Frederick not only stopped opening it further—he quietly closed it again and returned to his seat without a word.
I closed my eyes once more and let a small smile form.
From their perspective it probably looked more like a reprimand, but I only wanted to calm him.
With the smile still on my lips, I said softly,
"You are my Head Butler… It would be best if you always preserved your dignity and composure."
Frederick glanced at William, then back at me.
"My lord, please—do not dismiss me! I was only concerned for your safety!"
I stared at him in genuine surprise.
"I didn't… say anything like that."
But Frederick continued urgently.
"My lord, I merely thought that sudden jolt might be dangerous for you. Otherwise I would never have acted in a way that could compromise your dignity!"
I coughed—perhaps from surprise, perhaps from something else.
I frowned slightly.
"You're doing exactly that right now with this behavior!"
And so it went—again and again Frederick apologized. No matter what I said, he repeated the same pleas. I knew the senior servants, advisors, and lawyers of the Montagu household held Elias in extraordinary reverence, but even this old man seemed to worry about him as if Elias were fragile, incomplete somehow.
Did this body… really have some hidden weakness? Did it once? Would it in the future?
A few minutes passed. I tried to tell Frederick to stop apologizing, but it was useless.
In the end I neither smiled nor moved unnecessarily. I simply said,
"Enough."
And just like that, Frederick fell completely silent—as though the command had been carved into his very soul.
I turned my attention to William Helms.
He was carefully cleaning the pipe that had fallen to the floor.
I crossed one leg over the other and asked,
"Mr. William… what date is it today?"
He looked up at me, lowered the pipe slightly, and smiled.
"Today is most likely… the twenty-third of March, in the year 1879, my lord."
I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead.
"You didn't have to include the month and year…"
William's smile widened. He raised his thumb in a casual "all good" gesture.
"One must always be precise in such matters, my lord!"
I stared at the raised thumb.
"You… really do need some form of punishment. You've grown far too familiar with me."
His hand dropped instantly. His eyes widened.
"My lor—!"
I waved a hand dismissively.
"Fine, fine… I'll let it pass this time."
I glanced at Frederick.
"By the way… did you carry out the task I gave you?"
Frederick looked at me.
"Which task, my lord?"
My eyes widened—perhaps from surprise, perhaps from the strange calm in his voice.
"I told you to send someone to the Duke of Liverpool's residence to inform him I would call on him around noon!"
Frederick's faint smile disappeared.
"Wh—what?! My lord, you hurried so quickly toward the carriage… I had no time to write a letter, affix your seal, and entrust it to a messenger!"
He was right. It wasn't an excuse—he was telling the plain truth.
I had rushed to the carriage to avoid dealing with those policemen.
But why had the police been there in the first place?
Lost in that thought, William suddenly spoke.
"Big Ben is as majestic as ever!"
I glanced calmly out the carriage window.
He was right—especially in this world, where the clock tower stood taller and grander than in reality.
I said nothing. I only gave a quiet smirk, slipped the ring from my left hand, and transferred it to my right index finger.
Frederick spoke softly.
"That ring is a keepsake from your father, is it not?"
I looked at him.
He was most likely referring to Henry Montagu—Elias's father.
I knew almost nothing about the ring, so I simply nodded once.
Frederick smiled.
"It would be best to forget the events of the past, my lord. Westminster Abbey—the seat of one of Britain's three archbishops and the place of worship for Senry, Ruler of Heavenly Principles—is the finest location for leaving the past behind."
He was right.
But which past?
Mine… or Elias's?
I exhaled.
"Yes… you're right."
I'm not Elias. I'm more like a malevolent spirit that has taken over his body.
Yet there is no better way to live and maintain control in this world than to play the part of a dead duke.
I had just sunk into that thought when the carriage slowed to a gentle stop.
Frederick opened the door quietly.
"Please, my lord—Westminster Abbey, the Temple of the Ruler of Heavenly Principles."
I stepped out calmly.
There I stood before Westminster Abbey—the place described in books as the site where Senry, the god known as Ruler of Heavenly Principles, supposedly answers humanity's prayers.
I doubted it very much.
People stared openly. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
I couldn't blame them.
For over a thousand years the House of Montagu had worshipped Uire, Goddess of Nature and Kindness, and Ueis, Goddess of Light.
That was what I had read in the books—and now I saw the truth of it confirmed in their eyes.
Even though neither William nor Frederick reacted, the stares of the crowd made it unmistakably clear.
I walked toward the section dedicated to Senry.
Amid all those staring eyes, the only sound I could trust was that of my own footsteps—proof that I was still human, not some mechanical thing condemned to be a duke.
I—Elias Montagu, Duke of Manchester, one of the four great dukes of Britain—was entering a church that the entire Montagu family had rejected for centuries.
A crooked smile touched my lips as I whispered under my breath,
"What could possibly be… better than this?"