So there is an entire museum inside the memorial park as well. Victoria truly loved her husband.
Considering that none of the emperors of the British Empire have a dedicated memorial museum, it is somewhat ironic that I, who was not even an emperor, am the subject of such a place.
Just looking at that statue already makes me cringe, and now I have to go inside a museum too?
Why would the heir to the world's leading AI company have any interest in a place like this?
Ah, could it be that?
A gesture of respect toward the imperial family, using me as its symbolic figure?
"…Hah. That is actually clever."
Standing before the entrance, looking up at my own statue, I felt awkward.
Why was she not here yet?
It seemed I had arrived thirty minutes early in an attempt to appear polite.
Still, that statue really needs to go.
I never once asked for sculptures of myself while I was alive, yet they are everywhere.
I even saw one at Heathrow Airport.
At this point, it almost feels like people are enjoying it.
Or perhaps they believe that covering the world with statues of me was some grand dream Victoria and I once shared.
Even so, it is human nature to be curious about a museum bearing your own name.
I picked up a pamphlet and skimmed through it.
"…This is insane. Why is it so big?"
Even the name of the first exhibition hall was unusual.