The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 331 Ch.330 Good intentions revealed

"Victor Sala! One of the most outstanding sculptural artists of this century!"

"He created a whole new genre—"

"I have to apologize to everyone. I did something arrogantly and incorrectly before..."

Victor Sala held the chisel in one hand and the crumpled newspaper in the other, shaking it a few times in the dusty air.

Roland sat by the window, holding his chin, looking at the lonely and withered garden outside the glass.

"This newspaper is pretty good at talking, isn't it?"

Mr. Sculptor makes no mistake about mocking.

After talking to Randolph that day, he no longer called his friend to the door - for a paranoid person, it was terrifying to go crazy.

servant?

What qualifications did a servant have to ‘watch’ him?

The strange thing is that he doesn't seem to reject Roland very much.

"You know what? Randolph is a rude and obscene crooked vulture. He doesn't have the slightest idea of ​​'beauty'."

With the poor light, Victor tilted the newspaper: "If you want to forge a paragraph, it is considered a success. But he obviously doesn't know those critics well enough - those who are paid are not like playing with candles. , just like a woman who can stick out her pussy just by counting money..."

"They don't talk like that."

Critics and artists in this newspaper did their best to praise Victor Sala himself, praising his superb techniques, achievements in the field of art, awareness of beauty, and the new genre he would create——

He will leave a mark in history.

certainly.

This newspaper is fake.

It can completely deceive a person who never leaves home...

But you can’t fool an ascetic who has been walking on the needle board of words for many years.

The soles of his feet had long developed thick calluses.

"little tricks."

Victor didn't think highly of this technique.

"Randolph loved to play little tricks like this when he was young, especially when he was with those girls."

"He thought I cared, but actually, I didn't."

Several crows landed on the abandoned ivory fountain sculpture and on the shoulders of the woman holding the clay pot. They greeted each other with their beaks, nodding their heads from time to time, and looked at each other with the golden-eyed young man behind the glass.

"He's at a loss now, Mr. Sarah." Roland didn't look back: "He fell in love with a lady who really loves art, so much so that he even went to buy a book to learn how to praise a work of art. I don't know, he I haven’t learned anything useful from you in these years.”

"Because there's nothing 'useful' about me." Sara crumpled the newspaper into a ball and stuffed it into the glass.

The red wine beads rushed forward like a wild beast that wanted to reproduce crazily, dyeing the gray printed with the lead characters into dark brown.

“There is nothing else in me except paranoia, meanness, sluttyness, and sissy...” He stared at his work, changing the angle from time to time and adjusting its details with the smallest and thinnest tool in his hand: “...Oh, Is debauchery considered an advantage?”

"Forget it." Roland said, "It's not bad to be mean."

Victor's laugh was hoarse, like a handful of ashes accumulating in his throat.

He almost coughed his lungs out.

"I'm starting to like you, Collins."

"It's such a pity that you only have half a month to like me." Roland said quietly.

Half a month was how long the doctors judged Victor Sala could live.

——If this gentleman follows the doctor's advice and tries their brand new medicine, he might be able to live a little longer.

Years, even decades.

They came up with new treatments and swore they would work.

Everyone is different.

Various.

"I'd rather trust a prostitute, Mr. Collins. Because if a prostitute tells me a trick, she's tried it on someone else and it worked really well."

Victor said sarcastically.

Douse your belly with boiling water?

Puncture the sole of the foot and bleed?

Taking large doses of mercury mixed with leech powder?

"They say my blood is dirtier than the Thames. How is that possible? Didn't Her Majesty the Queen say that the mother river is so clean that you can bend down, hold it up and drink from it?"

Obviously, Victor Sala is not ignorant of the outside world.

He was talking about an earlier 'joke' that everyone knew - that after the Supreme Being ascended the throne, he was present for the construction of the bell tower.

At that time, she asked the escort with great confusion what the densely packed papers floating in the river were.

It's used toilet paper.

But those people only told her: 'It is our notice, Your Majesty. ’

‘Tell the citizens not to bathe in the river and to work together to protect our rivers. ’

She was very happy and said that if she was not pressed for time, she would drink the clean river water that symbolizes the country's endless vitality.

Since then, the image of the Supreme Being in the eyes of the citizens has been very interesting.

This joke may be true or false, but Roland can conclude that the person who first promoted it must have some unspeakable conspiracy.

“I don’t want to lie on the operating table, twitching in front of hundreds of eyes, with people wearing blood-stained aprons and holding hacksaws or ebony-handled scalpels staring at me – with a ticking sound in my ears. Pocket watch keeps time.”

Victor Sara focuses on adjusting the woman's cheeks to make them smoother and more delicate - like a real person.

"Spare me. Those who haven't recovered from the barber profession may not be as sharp as a pig butcher. If I break my arm, how can I live?"

It was these two arms that he relied on to 'survive'.

Now, the gray color has spread from the arms to the entire upper body.

Amputation has long since become useless.

"What does this mean to you?"

"Which ones?"

"You do it now."

Victor put his hands behind his back and took a few steps away, letting the light hit the sculpture.

"all."

He said.

He also looks like an exquisite sculpture in the sunlight.

The sculpture looks at its own sculpture.

"My mother did run away and did not die of pulmonary edema."

Roland turned his face sideways: "I didn't ask."

"I'm not telling you either." Victor changed the direction of his toes, walked around behind the sculpture, bent down, and began to adjust her waist: "Randolph's sharp-beaked bird has been carrying shame for more than ten years. He doesn't know How should you face me, a former good friend who is now a...creditor?"

"He can only use money."

Victor raised the chisel, tilted it, and tapped it lightly with a hammer.

Then, he adjusted the angle and knocked again.

"How could I let my friend carry pain for the rest of his life?"

Roland asked: "Shouldn't regret be the best art?"

Victor suddenly turned his head and looked at Roland: "That's the person in the story, Mr. Collins. No one would express their true friends as works of art..."

"Oh, I'm so glad you realize that."

Victor snorted, but then grinned: "You are scolding me for him, I can hear it."

certainly.

Roland didn't like Victor Sala.

Because he is willful.

For Roland, friends and family are extremely important in life.

What Victor Sala is doing is obviously hurting the one person who really cares about him, and perhaps the only person in the world who cares about him - he seems to be doing it just for the so-called 'art', to achieve a certain purpose, to make his friends feel like they are stepping on Sweating and screaming like a clown on fire.

He just does his own thing.

Then, take a moment to enjoy the screams of the clown.

This made Roland extremely disgusted.