## Chapter 152: The Devil’s Philosophy
The London drizzle had persisted for two days. Arthur sat at his desk in his bedroom, the incessant patter of raindrops against the outer windowpane a stark contrast to the thin layer of mist clinging to the inner one.
He reached out and wiped away the condensation, managing to see through the water droplets the maple leaves swirling in the wind across Hyde Park in the distance.
Agareus, the Red Devil, held a crystal-clear goblet in his hand. The vibrant ruby liquid within hinted at its considerable value.
Like a discerning medieval nobleman, he first brought his nose to the rim of the goblet, inhaling the aroma of the wine. Then, he took a sip, savoring the sweet aftertaste. Finally, he slowly poured the wine down his throat, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as the fiery heat surged through his belly.
Agareus placed the goblet beside Arthur, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Arthur, though I rarely compliment others, I must say, that French fatso has a taste for wine that truly suits me. Ever since he moved in with us, our standard of living has skyrocketed – it’s like going from heaven to hell!”
Arthur rubbed his face, his hair disheveled and his body clad only in a nightshirt. He hadn’t properly groomed himself since waking up, having taken the day off from Scotland Yard.
Leaning back in his chair, he squinted at the Red Devil, his arm resting on the backrest. “So you’re saying that heaven’s living conditions are worse than hell? Looks like the priests’ promises to their flock are flawed. A lifetime of good deeds and you still don’t get a good afterlife. Seems like going to heaven isn’t a blessing, but a curse.”
“Oh, my dear Arthur,” the Red Devil covered his mouth, his laughter echoing as his sharp, black-nailed fingers pressed against Arthur’s shoulders. “You don’t understand. For those kind and weak souls, heaven is a good destination. But for a powerful rogue like you, there’s nothing better than going to hell.”
Arthur gazed at the dappled leaves clinging to the window, his knuckles rapping against the tabletop. “What do you mean by that?”
Agareus, sensing Arthur’s interest, leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because in heaven, the weak can still have a bite to eat. But in hell, you know, it’s survival of the fittest. Either you eat until you’re bursting, or you don’t even get a taste of shit.”
Arthur sighed, “So you’re saying that Baal kicked you out of hell so he could hog all the shit? Agareus, I know you’re a power-hungry devil, but you can’t eat everything! Besides, if you really want to eat that stuff, there’s plenty of it in the Thames. You don’t need to fight Baal for such a petty thing.”
The Red Devil, his demeanor previously polite and amiable, instantly transformed.
“Arthur, you goddamn bastard! You can insult me, but you can’t insult my personal taste! Do you think I, a sophisticated, elegant, erudite, upper-class gentleman devil, would eat shit like Baal, that fly-infested creature?”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Arthur said, not bothering to argue. He rubbed his messy hair, his mind troubled as he pushed the goblet, now tainted by Agareus’ use, away from him. “You only use this goblet for water from now on. Be careful not to break it, a new one like this is pretty expensive.”
Agareus, his head erupting in flames of fury, jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at Arthur’s nose, his voice laced with vitriol.
“Arthur, what the hell do you mean by that? You don’t believe me?! Have you betrayed the working class, and now you’re going to betray the Devil?!”
Arthur’s eyes, previously hazy and unfocused, suddenly sharpened. He turned his head, his dark eyes meeting the Devil’s crimson ones.
But soon, his gaze softened and became dejected.
Agareus, the initial joy of having provoked him fading, seemed dissatisfied.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you angry?”
Arthur, his fingers interlocked and resting on the backrest, took a deep breath, exhaling forcefully. “Angry? Of course I’m angry. You may not know this, but the first English sentence I learned was ‘I am angry’.”
“Really? Your parents taught you that?”
“Not my parents, an elder.”
“Really? Older than me?” Agareus furrowed his brow, his displeasure evident as he sat down on the corner of the desk. “Since you’re angry, why aren’t you losing your temper?”
Arthur, his arm propping him up on the desk, held his forehead. “Because I’m educated, so I know that if I become angry at the first opposing opinion, it shows I’ve subconsciously felt my own viewpoint lacks sufficient grounds. If someone insists that two plus two equals five, you’d feel pity, not anger.
Agareus, the fact that I want to be angry means I’ve actually accepted your point. Since I’ve accepted it, there’s no need for me to lose my temper. After all, what I want is a truth that can convince me, not to vent my anger at you. That’s something children do.”
“Oh… what expression should I make? Maybe I should be moved to tears? Waaah… Arthur, will that make you happy?”
The Red Devil clenched his fists, twisting them at his eyes. He pretended to cry, but quickly switched to a malicious grin. “My dear Arthur, I advise you to save these words for the ladies at the party this weekend. Maybe you can use them to lure them into bed, but Professor Agareus isn’t going to forgive you for this.”
Arthur shrugged. “Isn’t forgiving humans God’s business? Agareus, I didn’t know you offered that service too.”
“God? Please, don’t mention that old blockhead again.”
The Red Devil scoffed. “You know what the prerequisite for him offering that service is? Providing that service isn’t a good thing for that old geezer himself.”
Arthur pondered Agareus’ words, glancing at him before shaking his head. “You’re talking in riddles again.”
His words were barely out when he heard his door creak open. Eld, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the handle, beamed with enthusiasm. “Arthur, are we going to the science lecture this afternoon, or to the theater?”
Arthur turned, his gaze landing on Eld’s beaming face, unsure how to respond.
Eld, noticing his expression, whistled. “Brother, why do you always look like you’re about to die? You didn’t get fired by Scotland Yard again, did you?”
Arthur sighed, “It’s worse.”
“What happened?”
Arthur scratched his head, finding the situation difficult to articulate, but knowing he couldn’t avoid it.
He sighed, “You don’t know? I led the Scotland Yard police in suppressing a worker’s demonstration yesterday.”
Eld stroked his chin, pondering for a moment. “Anyone dead?”
Arthur shook his head. “No.”
Eld whistled, raising an eyebrow. “Damn! That’s badass!”
Arthur was taken aback, then chuckled helplessly. “Eld, I’m not asking for your praise. I don’t think this is anything to be proud of.”
“What can I do? I can’t scold you, can I?”
Eld shrugged carelessly. “Besides, aren’t the Scotland Yard police supposed to do that? The workers are demonstrating for a decent meal, the police are suppressing the demonstration for a decent meal.
No one died, the workers’ demands were communicated, Scotland Yard highlighted its importance. What’s wrong with that?
So, are you going to the theater this afternoon? I’m afraid I’ll have to go out for sea training again once the ship’s fixed. I have to spend all the money I’ve saved, Arthur, I’m really desperate.”
Arthur pursed his lips, “I think you should go pick out a new suit this afternoon. I’m taking you to General Codrington’s private party this Sunday, as my scientific assistant.”
Eld’s jaw dropped, “Arthur, my good brother!”
Arthur asked impatiently, “What’s wrong?”
Eld, overwhelmed with emotion, covered his mouth. “Now, even if you killed workers during the suppression, I’d forgive you!”
Arthur, unsure how to respond, pursed his lips and waved his hand dismissively. “Get out, you moron!”
Eld slammed the door shut, restoring the silence in the room.
Arthur looked at the Red Devil sitting at the table, “He said he’d forgive me. Does that mean even someone who graduated from the University of London’s Classical Literature department can be God?”
Agareus, without directly answering, simply nodded with a smile.
Arthur, seeing his expression, snorted. “That God’s got some serious skills.”
Normally, the Red Devil would join Arthur in mocking God, but this time, he refrained, instead saying,
“Arthur, you’re too young. You don’t understand. Those beautiful things aren’t always beautiful. And the beautiful birds aren’t all made of beautiful feathers.”
Arthur looked at him, “What are you talking about?”
Agareus flipped through a parchment scroll, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “Just like you said before, be their king, don’t be their God.”
Arthur hesitated, pressing further, “Why?”
The Red Devil curled his lips, his eye sockets housing crimson eyes, within which swirled unknown gears and secrets sealed behind them.
His ethereal form gradually faded into the white lace curtains. After a long silence, only the lingering echo of his voice remained.
“Because even when humans are about to overthrow the most wicked king in the world, they won’t act with the same righteous indignation as they would smashing a harmless ancient idol… Arthur, remember, if you can’t control others, others will control you. Try to free yourself from their control. If you can’t, you’ll soon discover that they are your hell…”
(End of Chapter)