The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 109 Ch.108 Bloody Yarn

"Hurry up, you idiot! Donkeys are smarter than you!"

Pink, wearing a thick cloth scarf and a blouse, stood at the door and ordered the servants to arrange for the carriages to stop in an orderly manner.

The host of the banquet, Lord Mince Croy, and his close friend Orlando Wilson were having a secret conversation upstairs, so he was responsible for receiving these guests, arranging them to sit down, and serving tea and cakes. Finally, wait until the time is almost up before notifying the master.

His power has grown rapidly since Cherry Chloe's death.

In the past, when the slut was at home, many things were taken care of by the woman or the personal servant.

It's better now, he died cleanly, and he found a reason to get rid of the servants - he can put a lot more in his pocket every month.

The housekeeper thought about it, grinned, and blew out a wisp of white mist.

The early winter wind had begun to bite his face, but he didn't feel cold at all.

Because the fire in his chest and belly is burning brightly.

The burning ambition was like an inexhaustible dense forest that was cut down and regenerated. The fire boiled his restless heart and burned his eyes red: his wonderful future was so close and within reach. Just put your feet up and you can reach it.

He didn't thank Cherry Chloe, nor did he thank Mince Chloe.

He deserves all of this.

If he hadn't been the first to step forward and strangle the slut's neck that day, and yelled at her, asking his few handy men to help - maybe when Cherry Chloe died, he would have gotten out of here and left this place. It’s a golden mansion that feels like spring all year round.

The only thing he wanted to be grateful for was his decisiveness that day.

and these three men around him.

His future is extremely bright, and he may not be able to marry a woman with a generous dowry in the future.

"I see, it's almost time."

Maybe the cold wind in the lean season is too biting, or maybe the higher you sit, the more delicate and intolerant you are to the cold. Pink straightened his hair that was messed up by the wind, learned to act like a gentleman, and turned to speak to the men beside him.

But obviously, this noble language does not circulate among them.

The manservant looked confused.

"Idiot! I asked you to go upstairs and inform the master!"

He held his collar tightly with one hand and scolded in a low voice.

The servant immediately showed a flattering smile, hunched over and walked into the house.

After a few minutes, no letter came back.

The housekeeper frowned slightly and ordered the second male servant beside him to go upstairs to deliver the message.

But soon, he disappeared too.

"...Lazy donkeys have to be beaten with whips." He turned around, turned his back to the door, and spat at the stone feet on the porch, "You, go and inform the master, and then I can find them both! I guess they are. Go to the kitchen to eat secretly, or hide in a warm room and take a nap..."

"Get them back for me!"

The last servant beside him nodded with a silly smile, turned around and ran into the house.

The weather is getting cold.

"...Yes! Oh! Mr. Benevento! I'm not cold at all. Look at you. I can wait for you here and be the first to see you. But I'm lucky!"

The housekeeper in the cold wind tore the dry skin on his face and smiled more exaggeratedly than the actors in the theater.

"Come in quickly... That's right! The master is preparing for the banquet in the evening. You may not know it. Just for you, we are all busy... No, no, no, it's not hard at all. I have endless energy in my body. ——Especially when I heard that the person I am hosting tonight is you..."

After sending people in with a cheerful smile and arranging the maids, Pink turned around and immediately darkened his face.

'A few lazy idiots who deserve to be hanged...'

The three servants disappeared like the children in the womb of a flower street woman, and you don't know where they went.

A distinguished guest has arrived.

It would be rude if the master doesn't come down.

Pink stepped on his feet and glanced at the door. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he gritted his teeth, turned around and ran upstairs.

Second floor.

Since Cherie Chloe's death, the couple's shared bedroom has been crudely boarded up.

The master specially set aside a room as a bedroom (although he rarely came back to live there), and secondly, it was his study room where he read.

In the southwest direction, the innermost side.

At this time, he should be discussing important matters with Mr. Orlando Wilson.

'It's too late, it's going to be too late...'

Pink stepped on the carpet, his back straight, but his feet fell as fast as a duck's feet under the lake.

Close.

"Master! My handsome and shrewd husband..." He muttered in his mouth, walked lightly, and listened to the door for a moment with his ears tilted.

There was no sound of conversation in the room.

knock--

A sound.

It is only used to remind people in the room: Please prepare, someone is calling the door from outside.

Then wait a moment.

Knock knock——

Twice.

This is the official knock on the door.

At the same time, the servant outside the door can also speak.

"Sir, Mr. Wilson, the guests have arrived."

Pinker lowered his head and stood politely outside the door, counting the numbers silently in his mind.

There was a long silence.

Then…

Knock knock——

A third knock on the door.

Theoretically, at this time, the owner of the room should reply.

However.

Still silent.

"master?"

Pink was a little flustered, scratching his head and pressing his ear to the door.

"master?"

"Mr. Wilson?"

Knock knock knock——

Perhaps he knocked too hard, and with a creak, the wooden door was pushed open by him.

The door was not closed tightly.

A strong smell of fish and rust hit my face.

Pinker was stunned.

What does this smell like?

The sudden 'abnormality' made his brain confused and he couldn't figure out what was happening at the moment.

"…master?"

He called out softly again, tilted his head and glanced into the house.

It was a dark room with the curtains drawn and no lights on.

"master?"

Pink looked back at the empty corridor, shrunk his head, and carefully opened the door and entered.

A dark room.

The carpet made a "sizzling" sound when you stepped on it, as if it had absorbed enough moisture.

He searched in the dark for the familiar location of the gas lamp.

I haven’t touched the iron button yet.

He felt wet on his neck.

It was as cold as tissue paper across his fragile neck.

Then, he discovered that his blouse was soaked.

There is something, spraying out from the body.

The dizziness comes from top to bottom.

Top-heavy, dizzy.

Unable to stand, he fell to his knees and clutched his neck.

But soon he couldn't kneel anymore, and the sudden severe pain made him like a thief with a broken leg. He could only lie on the ground, curl up, and stretch.

He twitched and immediately became stiff again.

While struggling like a fish falling into the mud, he finally touched something——

"He...hehe..."

It's a human leg.

Someone was lying in front of him in the same posture.

The body is still warm.

He began to suffocate, coughing outwards as if he was choking on water, as if his head was pressed under the water, and he couldn't even take a breath.

Some hallucinations appear and disappear, slower and slower, more and more real.

He saw his father who froze to death and his mother who abandoned him.

A light laugh was heard.

The figure gradually approached, glowing and covered in beautiful white tulle.

The fragmented illusions slowly reunited.

It formed a familiar figure.

yes…

It's Cherie Chloe.

"He...he...che...husband..."

He stretched his arms to beg for help or mercy, but 'Cherry Chloe' just smiled and put her hands behind her back, staring at him feeding the expensive carpet bit by bit with his lowly blood.

'She' was spinning around him, pacing slowly as if admiring an animal she had never seen before.

He heard her speak before he died.

As light as the waves that are about to dissipate hitting the cliff.

‘The dead send you their regards. ’

‘Mr Pink Brown. ’