The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 187 Ch.186 Butterfly

When Halida entered the living room again, she had been helped by Teresa and the maids to change into a new set of clothes - perhaps only Bronte beside her noticed...

Sally was gone.

Teresa did not introduce the dress in detail, because she knew Roland could not see it.

"...Sir."

Halida called out timidly, twisting her hands under her belly, lowering her head, not daring to say a word.

She was wearing a light golden one-piece dress.

Her black hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck and fell to her waist.

Her eyebrows were deep, and above her high nose bridge, her light silver eyes were very far away in the light.

She shouldn't be so timid.

She should be a plant growing in the dense forest or the ocean, ready to meet fangs and storms at any time. She should absorb nutrients from the bulging muscles and stretch branches and leaves in the huge waves and swords.

"Miss Halida."

She was invited to sit down, and then, only Theresa, Bronte, Roland, and a sister pretending to be her brother were left in the living room.

Roland introduced Beatrice to Halida, and said that since she had made an appointment with the ice doctor, she should at least leave an address, otherwise, how to notify her?

"...Mr. Lyle's circus will be here for a long time."

She carefully considered every word, fearing that the curse would suddenly jump out and make trouble again.

I met a big shot today.

Great.

My brother must be saved.

"Can I wait for your news...at the circus?"

"Of course, I like the Mud Ball Circus, it's very interesting." Roland didn't say that he liked her "performance", skipped the part of the monster show, and talked about the lions going through the fire ring, the parrots that could understand commands, and the dogs that could line up.

Talking about the circus, Halida relaxed a lot.

She was less nervous and fluently introduced Roland to the troubles that the parrot caused in daily life and a monkey that caused trouble everywhere.

Beatrice listened with great interest.

Theresa left quietly at some point, leaving Bronte alone in the living room.

As Halida spoke, Beatrice and Roland listened quietly.

As time went by, the brown-skinned girl gradually noticed something was wrong.

This lady...

Why do I feel that there is something...

She looked at Roland in confusion, and then turned her eyes to Beatrice who was listening attentively.

The other party was also staring at her.

"... Is it, is it, hate my... my..." Halida subconsciously bent her arms to block her throat.

The story of the circus stopped.

"Listen!" Beatrice shouted: "I want to listen!"

She patted the sofa while shouting, which scared Halida.

"Our Beatrice doesn't want to grow up, Miss Halida." Roland explained with a smile: "... So she begged the Father of All Things to give her a long period of innocence."

Bronte, who was standing not far away, frowned slightly.

Perhaps Halida and Beatrice didn't understand.

She had read books and gone to school, and she knew that this sentence was a bit "dangerous" - that is, in such a private occasion, otherwise, when mentioning the benefactor, it is best to only quote the words in the Book of Eden.

Don't be so bold as to create it yourself.

However, the young man on the sofa continued: "...The Father of All Things agreed and promised to give her the most innocent and wonderful time, but the price was...his brother was in a mess."

Halida laughed softly.

"I, I want to thank...you."

The brown-skinned girl didn't know how to use rhetoric to match the gorgeous decoration of the room and the soft and comfortable skirt on her body.

She tried to decorate her words of thanks with the most solemn tone she could imagine, as well as the words that she occasionally heard from Mr. Lyle on weekdays.

"You, you saved my brother, and you saved me."

When she sat upright, even the cowardice in her eyes disappeared.

She looked at the young man opposite her very seriously: "I don't know, I don't know how to thank you, maybe, I can..."

Before Roland could reply, Beatrice, who was ignored, began to toss and turn - she had kicked her legs for a long time out of boredom, but...

No one paid attention to her!

"She is coffee!"

She pointed at Halida, dipped her finger in the black tea in Roland's cup, and rubbed it on her arm.

"That's not coffee, Beatrice."

"I'm coffee too!" Beatrice proudly raised the back of her hand and showed off to Halida: "Me too!"

"Halida just got too much sun... You like her, right?"

Seeing that Roland's attention was finally back on her, the blonde girl narrowed her eyes, snuggled into his arms like a cat, and rubbed Roland's chest with her messy hair:

"... I like coffee, and I like Roland."

As Bronte looked at her in surprise, Roland raised his hand and gently rubbed her hair, and used his fingers like a comb to gently smooth out the mess.

"You are lucky to like both Roland and coffee." Roland whispered gently in her ear, touched the table with his hand, dipped his fingertips in black tea, and imitated, rubbing it on the back of his hand: "Am I coffee now?"

"I am Roland."

"I should be coffee Roland now."

"I am Roland...not coffee."

"So do you like coffee or Roland?"

"I like Roland."

"What about coffee?"

Beatrice hesitated.

She stole a glance at Halida, then looked up at the person next to her, moved her hips, and hugged Roland's arm, "I liked Roland first, then I liked coffee."

Roland teased her: "You can only choose one, Beatrice."

"No." Beatrice shook her head vigorously: "Two!"

Roland sighed: "So, where is Randolph?"

"Randolph, Coffee Roland, and Coffee Halida, which two do you choose?"

Beatrice hesitated even more.

This time, she simply stopped arranging, timidly pulled Roland's arm and asked tentatively: "Choose three, okay?"

Roland pressed her forehead with his finger and pushed her away: "There is no difference between you and your brother."

Beatrice bared her teeth and said: "I am the brother!"

Halida saw the 'brothers and sisters' quarreling, chattering and laughing, and suddenly discovered something.

This ridiculously handsome gentleman...

how…

Can’t see?

wrong.

When he handed me the cloth last night, when he got up from the coffin and looked at himself...

He should be able to see it?

"First, sir."

Unconsciously, she became nervous again.

"Miss Halida?"

"You...your eyes..."

"Well, yes." Roland frowned and replied with a smile, "I can't see."

Halida stopped talking.

She thought that this gentleman might be in trouble, and he should be able to see more or less, but for some reason, he couldn't tell others.

She tightened her face and nodded solemnly: "I understand."

She will keep it a secret for her husband.

Never tell anyone.

But, but.

This is a secret...

secret.

She was getting nervous.

so.

The shameful curse struck again.

A loud 'woof' echoed in the living room.

Beatrice was startled, turned her head suddenly, blinked, and looked at Halida carefully, seeing that she was covering one cheek with her palm, and her expression was twitching ferociously.

So weird.

"Roland!" Beatrice called, pointing at Halida and shouting: "Hound!"

hound.

This word made Hallida's pale silver eyes mist.

Roland clasped the ear of the cup, took a sip of tea, and looked at the maid Bronte who stepped forward to hug Beatrice.

She stroked Beatrice's blond hair and whispered that it wasn't a hound, just...

Just what?

Bronte didn't know.

Because many people say that defects are a curse and a sin. Blind, this barking dog must be too.

But Bronte doesn't think so.

Although she didn't understand what caused this situation.

But she didn't quite believe it.

"I...woah! I control woof! I can't control..." Halida covered her mouth, her eyes sad, "It's me woof...my sin...woah...don't...please...don't woof...don't look at me..."

She knew her skin color, her curse, her strange eyes—that everything about her was wrong.

But she still has a small hope.

I hope that Roland, Beatrice and Bronte will not look at themselves with the strange eyes of others.

This is of course a luxury.

Roland didn't say much, he just whispered a few words in Beatrice's ear.

The girl nodded doubtfully and led Bronte upstairs.

After a while, the master and servant came down.

Bronte held a mirror, and Beatrice held a silver hairpin.

She ran over from afar and hugged Roland's arm again. The two of them muttered for a long time.

Beatrice looked at the hairpin in her hand and pursed her lips, as if to encourage herself.

"...don't bite me."

She warned the sobbing Halida, cautiously moving closer.

Halida simply closed her eyes.

Snap.

The black hair was gently pulled, and something caught it.

After a while.

"Miss Halida."

Roland called her name softly.

When she opened her eyes, there was a mirror in front of her face - a small round mirror with a gilt frame held by the maid.

She saw herself in the mirror.

And the silver one between the hair, with wings as thin as paper...

Butterfly hairpin.

"...First, sir...this is...woof!"

She couldn't help but started twitching again, but the person in the mirror was extremely beautiful:

She was wearing a golden dress, and her collarbones were like two delicate and slender necklaces. Sliding behind the swan's neck, there is a pair of misty silver eyes.

And the butterfly hairpin on the head that is fluttering its wings slightly.

Every time she twitched, the silver butterfly flapped its wings several times.

As if perfection was born from imperfection.

Roland held his chin quietly, his eyes like the sun rising slowly in the snowy winter day——

It bakes sin, and when the filth covering its wings is melted, the light brown butterfly timidly stretches its limbs and tries to flap its wings for the first time.

This is an unprecedented mood.

"I can't see, Beatrice. Tell me, is Halida beautiful?"

Beatrice was no longer afraid now.

She pointed at Halida excitedly and said crisply: "Beautiful!"

she says.

"Butterfly!"

she shouted.

"Ha... Halida!" She finally called Halida's name, "Halida! Beautiful! Eyes! Butterfly! Silver!"

The silver butterfly flapped its wings, constantly attracting Beatrice's attention.

"What is Halida now?"

Roland asked with a smile.

"It's not a hound." Beatrice thought for a moment: "It's a butterfly."

I…

I am...a butterfly...?

Halida touched her eyelids, face, and corners of her mouth.

When the teardrops slipped away, only ice-cold traces of water were left.

In her pale silver eyes, there was a stream of clear spring water that dispelled the fog.

"Collins first...woof!"

She couldn't help but twitch again.

And every time she twitched, the butterflies in the black hair of the beautiful woman in the mirror fluttered again.

There had never been a day in her life when she had been more confused than she was today.

She once wondered why she could not say a complete sentence, and then she wondered why she was alive; she began to wonder why she could not hang herself from the beam, and then she wondered why she had prepared scissors in advance and was so afraid of death;

She wondered why her parents were not cursed and she was the one who suffered. Later, she wondered why she did not dare to drown her brother and then jumped into the sea.

She lived in confusion, as if all the mud was flowing into a flood in her heart, and only one word could ever be poured out.

alive.

Living is not a process, it is her empty purpose.

"Roland Collins is cursed because he is blind - but it doesn't matter because there are people who love Roland Collins."

"Halida is cursed because she barks all the time - but it doesn't matter because someone..."

When Roland said this, he suddenly paused.

The next moment, Beatrice raised her arms high and answered in a loud and clear voice:

"Because someone loves Halida!"

Will there be one?

Halida looked at the lazily smiling young man in front of her. He only answered her question with a smile.

‘There will be. ’

Halida finally let go of her hands and cried loudly.

"She's crying." Beatrice shrank her neck, turned around and ran back to Roland: "...she's crying."

"Help her, Beatrice."

The girl thought for a moment, turned around and ran away.

Bronte hurriedly put down the mirror and hurried after him.

"You, why...wow...why are you helping me?" the girl asked with red eyes.

Because you are just like me.

I can see the teeth marks the world has left on you.

Roland smiled and said:

"Does this long skirt have pockets?"

pocket?

She touched it.

Indoor skirts have small pockets.

"that's enough."

Roland took out a coin and put it on the table.

"Miss Halida."

As he said that, he pushed the coin to her and patted his rattling trouser pocket.

“…There’s hope in it.”

He pointed at the coins on the table, but the direction he was looking at was his own memory.

"Now, I'll give some of it to you."

The silver butterfly stared blankly at the golden-eyed young man in front of him.

His weird, rough and slightly crazy behavior was as if someone was singing in her ears in a language she didn't understand.

She couldn't understand it, but she could understand the emotion in the singing, and the sludge that trapped her was melted by the fiery singing.

Like a butterfly trying to flap its wings for the first time, overlooking the gray world from a high place.