The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 373 Ch.372 Rose Face

Mr. Matthew Bohan is determined that if this spell works well, then their family should count down——

Counting down the time to move out.

West End, how about West End?

I heard that the houses there are made of whole rocks and painted with beautiful paint; the road surface is as smooth as a table, and the air smells of milk and ink; the men and women there put their morality on their heads, and they are so polite that they can't wait to talk. Always apologize first;

They spend a lot of time in theaters, high-end cafes and various small activities. In addition to the scent of bath salts, everyone has the rare scent of perfume that penetrates into their bones.

They never pick up pennies off the ground and think twice about even a shilling.

No one was working, and no one was talking about work.

If someone really said that, I am afraid that in the blink of an eye, countless coins and tickets would be thrown in:

‘Take it, take it quickly! Don't talk about vulgar work in this elegant, sacred and noble place! ’

They hold their heads high, and even when they defecate, they use gold basins inlaid with precious stones, and shiny funnels made of silver—and they only use them once and then throw them away somewhere.

They were afraid that people would find this dirty and embarrassing thing, so they hired people to dig many big holes in hard-to-find places so that they could throw away the dirty gems, gold and silver every month.

They don't eat or drink by themselves. There are always people who serve them and use the most beautiful knives and forks. As for how beautiful it is, Matthew Bohan thinks that when he gets to the place where the smell of milk is everywhere, as time goes by, it will become more beautiful. Then I learned to identify what is beautiful.

Morning and evening, he would wear flowers on his buttonholes, and he would speak slower and slower, so slow that it made people anxious, so slow that he wanted to ask how was the morning, but it was noon when he finished.

He might get to know more extraordinary people, big shots.

Those big men are not like him, they like the noble and hate the lowly.

They treat everyone equally, see everything well, and are polite to everything.

They have to shake their hand and shake it vigorously a few times to show their sincerity.

They took off their hats, marveled at his strength, and asked him where he came from and what he wanted.

Matthew Bohan thought for a while, and when the time came, he would have to ask this: I am from the East End, should you hate me?

He's sure to get a lot of friendly ribbing.

For gentlemen and ladies.

They laughed at his clumsiness and said that this is not the East End. As long as you stop doing those shady things, be nice and enjoy ourselves, be as elegant, gentle, kind and polite as we are, you can live here forever.

People there probably do, but maybe...

Not so good?

They may be thinking in their minds and not say it outright - it would be disrespectful to say it and give people an inferiority complex.

Matthew Bohan believes that to deal with this group of people, you must first find a teacher to learn from.

so…

"Tell me, Michelle."

His buzzing head was filled with tumbling gems and lace gloves at this moment, and could no longer contain even a little bit of the usual stench from the East District.

"...Our future is here!"

Michelle was a little embarrassed: "My love." She said, holding her husband's face.

"This may not be legal."

"Fuck the law, I want my law!" He growled, tearing off his poor skin like a dirty robe, pulling up his future, staring at the delicate flesh by the candlelight:

"I'm one of the smartest people in the world. You know, I'm just one chance away from..."

Michelle bit her lip - a few days ago, Matthew Bohan would have said, 'I'm not hungry for you.' But now, he just wants to yell, to wake up everyone sleeping around him:

Come and take a look! You guys will never see my poor toes again! I'm leaving!

But he is a smart man, smart, so he knows not to make any noise now.

"…how to do it, Michelle."

He lifted his shoulders and stretched his neck like a secret agent.

The wife sighed, got out of bed, first calmed the three restless children, and then went to the door and brought in a basket.

It is filled with fresh rose petals.

Matthew Bohan clapped his hands!

"I knew it! I said why there was a basket at home yesterday! It turns out! It turns out the key is here!"

He watched his wife put down the flower basket, found a brazier, and dragged it to the bed with difficulty.

The three children lay under the quilt and peeked.

"Honey...this, this is illegal..."

"Come! Make me illegal!" Matthew's eyes were burning with fire. The fire did not come from a candle, but a solemnity that he had never had before, but that everyone should have.

His midnight slumbering citizens greeted a coming king with snores and cries.

"Let me rot in the gems..."

He murmured and stared at the hot pot of charcoal fire, stretched out his hand and asked his wife to bring him a silver bracelet - a gift he gave to his wife, which cost him half a month's salary.

Then.

He was stuffed with roses.

"Read it as I say, Matthew, my love." I don't know if it's an illusion, or because she's getting younger - the wife with her open arms in the firelight looks so holy, so...

Like a saint leaning on the cross.

He has never seen a real saint, but Matthew would say that she must be purer and more lovable than a saint now...

‘Withered flesh and blood, eternal sweetness. ’

'Someone is young again...'

A blade knife slit his wrist.

When the blood was poured in and the bracelet passed through the thick smoke in the sky, Matthew Bohan felt like he was 'filled' - something was implanted in his body like a bearded seed, slender and comfortable. He was about to cry out, as long beards that were thinner than hair spread and stretched, in his flesh and blood, in his soul...

It reminded him of the sea.

He is the tide of the ocean.

Beating again and again, rising, receding, rising again, receding again...

All his energy was spent on following the tide that made him extremely addicted. The neighboring sea urchins shrank and offered their red or white blood in response to the ever-violent tide——

involuntarily.

Matthew Bohan feels like...

Withered.

"...Michelle?"

He found that his wife looked at him more and more strangely.

It's like looking at a dog with wings.

"rice…"

His throat shriveled up, like the withered stem of a burned rose before it fell.

The blood flowed more and more, and an unstoppable waterfall burst out from his wrists and waist.

He froze in place, feeling himself flowing continuously.

He flows like a river.

"Michelle..."

He lost weight.

Michelle showed a weird smile, stood up, walked around him, and opened the door.

Some women wearing veils filed in and laughed wildly: "Michelle, you are so lucky."

"That's not difficult."

Michelle smiled and said that she didn't look like the woman Matthew knew, the former wife, the mother of his children, the hard-working, shrewd and philistine Bohan - she seemed to have been peeled off and stuck on another person's flesh and blood. good.

"Thanks…"

The corners of her mouth made an inhuman arc, and she gently took off the bracelet from the five dead branches-like fingers.

A bracelet with a bright shine.

Then, he put it on his hand.

For a moment, she seemed younger.

Matthew Bohan shook, his legs became weak, and he fell dryly to the floor.

A crisp cracking sound.

His leg bones were broken.

Or waist.

He is like a two-hundred-year-old man, so fragile that only his bones remain in history for future generations to listen to their lamentations.

He volunteered.

Got sucked dry willingly.

"Is that so? You did it of your own free will, my dear husband."

Michelle’s eyes were filled with youthful flames: “It’s called ‘Rose Face’. "

She breathed in the delicious fragrance and whispered softly in his ear.

"A great...invisible technique."

"Look."

"I have a new lease of life..."

Several women stared at him with smiles. Gradually, under Matthew's horrified eyes, they all turned their heads to the bed.

"No..." Matthew yelled silently.

Those three trembling children.

The old round mirror on the cupboard reflected a group of hungry eyes.

This red night is awesome.

…

"Name": Rose Face

"Type": invisible art

"Description": Throw fresh rose petals into the brazier and burn them, sprinkle the user's blood (or other), and use the bracelet to pass through the smoke above.

Some (or all) of the user's charm and life will be transferred to the bracelet.

The person holding the bracelet is refreshed and rejuvenated (the effect decays over time).

'Now. ’

'I can finally breathe a sigh of relief...'

'Thank you, my love. ’