The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 250 Ch.249 The woman in the flower house

Ram Fiennes's 'illegal' behavior was beyond Roland's control. When they resolve the case, Fernandez will report it to the trial court, where Ms. Enid will decide whether he should go or stay, and what the final punishment will be.

Now, he has more important things to do.

"Wait for me in the carriage, Xander."

Roland looked at Ram Fiennes, who was swaying and running to another house, and said casually.

He is very interested in Fiennes's lover - the woman who just embraced him and sold him invisible skills.

"Do you need me and..."

"Lady, it's best not to go to that place." Roland brushed the gray hair from her forehead, opened the door and got out of the car.

Bristol's starry night is brighter, much clearer than London's dark, gray haze.

Roland lit his lacquered cane, and like countless men who came here to have fun, he walked briskly past the fragrant girls. Amid the teasing and attention, he turned into the small building where Fiennes' lover was. .

For a moment, the women couldn't help but sigh together, making the gentlemen around them laugh.

‘The benefactor is above! Would you like to show mercy to me? ’

'When I was young, I promise, I had the same thing as that young man - a cane. ’

'Ha ha ha ha--'

Loft opposite.

Arch windows.

A lightless room.

Ram Fiennes stared at Roland expressionlessly, watching him disappear through the building door.

…………

…

The building is stuffy.

Even in winter.

Ram Fiennes' lover appears to have just taken a shower, his hair is wet and he smells of cheap soap.

She wore a semi-sheer white nightgown and a light red blanket, with her bare feet on the blanket.

She heard her mother say that someone was looking for her, but she didn't know her name and only mentioned 'Fiennes'.

Ram Fiennes.

Her toes, which had been loved by hundreds of people, scratched the blanket and coughed slightly.

"Please come in."

"I'm already in, sir." The woman licked her lips. When she saw Roland's appearance clearly, she thought she shouldn't take a shower in advance - the room would still be damp.

"Good night." She greeted her, kneading her legs together smoothly, and walked across the room - as if she was showing some kind of charm to the smiling man on the seat that was only revealed under the moonlight: she rarely opened a bottle The red wine was only used by the best guests. He pinched two crystal glasses with his thin fingers like onion milk.

She refused to sit down and insisted on leaning over to put the cup on the table.

This angle is even more subtle.

"Don't blame it for being disrespectful, sir, I did my best."

Pry the cork off the bottle, pour the wine, push the glass.

During the whole session, her legs were upright, but she only bent her soft waist, as soft as a looming boneless snake.

"Look."

"This is called professionalism."

-

She makes me very uncomfortable.

"Whether it's very uncomfortable or unbearable, please tell me clearly."

Then Roland blocked it.

"I heard from my mother that you found me, right?"

Instead of sitting on the sofa, the woman in the nightgown reclined lazily on the cushioned armrest. She sat halfway up, her legs crossed and twisted together, and they couldn't help but rub against each other.

"I am Collins, Roland Collins, Executor of the Inquisition."

Roland was the first to reveal his identity in an attempt to inform the woman opposite, whose legs were still itching after taking a bath, that he might not be able to do what she wanted.

as expected.

She raised her eyebrows for a moment, but without saying anything, she stretched out her hands to pick up the cigarette case from the side table next to the round table, smoked a cigarette, and lit a match.

It wasn't until she blew out the first breath of mint-flavored smoke towards Roland that she asked:

"Can I?"

Roland touched the lining and finished smoking the cigar he had brought with him.

Looking up again, a slender cigarette has been brought to his mouth.

Before Roland raised his hand, the girl in the nightgown stood up and knelt down in front of him, offering him cigarettes and matches.

"Taste my..." Her eyes were full of moisture: "...the smoke."

Roland blinked, bit the cigarette holder with his teeth, lit it, swallowed it in his mouth, turned it around a few times, and spit it out.

It made the woman holding the cigarette smile coquettishly.

"My dear, this is not like your 'thick stick'. You have to swallow it in your stomach to enjoy it...I said smoking." She raised her lips and opened them slightly, as if teaching Roland, and let him take a look in the moonlight. Clear as day.

Roland took out the cigarette, held it between his fingers without smoking, and asked her:

"Do you know about the Inquisition?"

"How could I not know? Since you came to me because of Fiennes, shouldn't you have confirmed that I have a relationship with that person?" The woman smiled with a hint of irony: "You want to do the work first and then ask questions. , or should I ask first and then do the work?”

Roland asked if he could ask while working, but the woman joked: "You are a 'new stick', don't think I can't see it - what's the use of using force with your mouth? You must at least have a dexterity tongue."

She speaks openly and smiles openly. This gorgeous animal with a keen sense of smell seems to be able to smell the smell of males all the way to their bones, smelling the overripe and choking hotness in their belly.

She understands men like a maid who has worked for a long time understands the secrets behind every door.

"When you get your blood, you will understand the beauty of our relationship."

She bit her lip, tilted her head, and smoothed her wet hair.

The temptation seemed to grow on her body, not as clothes, but as skin.

Roland lowered his eyes. The thin cigarette in his hand, which was stained with beads of water, was extinguished at some point, leaving only a black butt.

He threw the cigarette into the ashtray.

"Tell me about Fiennes, ma'am, if it's convenient for you. I'm not a local bailiff, and I just want to hear the truth from you - let me see, three shillings, how about it?"

The woman stared at Roland for a long time.

Gradually, the smile disappeared.

The charming maid in white robe holding soft melons and fruits stared at the clear amber glass in the visitor's eyes: What was in his heart was not the waltz, but the sambapalo dancing non-stop.

His instincts and instincts were screaming, but something else was pricking his skin like the thorny collar around a dancer's neck.

He is not the owner of this suit.

At least not originally.

"Are you from London?"

The woman 'slid' onto the sofa like a snake, crossed her legs, and smoked a cigarette gracefully: "But you are different from the gentlemen I have seen... I mean, you are the most different executive I have ever seen."

Most different executive?

"You've seen quite a few."

"Of course, the Tribunal... I know quite a few people from the Tribunal here and around here - oh, they don't seem to be wearing black uniforms anymore."

Those who are transferred to the church must of course wear white robes.

"You are different from them, for the first time in the past three years."

"Younger and prettier."

"More 'executive'."

Roland smiled and thanked: "Then, can you tell me, Ram Fiennes——"

The woman nodded her lips and interrupted Roland's words.

"My name is Rebecca."

She looked at Roland.

"Rebecca Fiennes."

The room fell silent.

"You said that person is mine..."

"Father."