The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 378 Ch.377 People you meet

Have a sweet dream, like an endless river of honey.

Girls that I can’t get enough of watching.

A mountain made of gold pounds.

The tree is full of sweet fruits that give people eternal life.

Dreams are wonderful, but servants are ruthless - for example, when there is a knock on the door early in the morning, Roland always wants to send her to the dirtiest and most tiring place to work.

"I take office today, forgive her, I have to forgive her..."

"Or you can sleep for a little longer...ten seconds...just...ten seconds..."

Half past six.

While he was still bleary-eyed and mumbling on the bed with his messy hair, the maid Halida had already started her day's work.

She lit the fireplace, cleaned the carpet, and wiped the furniture in the dining room twice, including preparing the clothes the master would wear today—the above work would be completed before Roland fully woke up.

"I was just thinking about sending you to clean the stables..."

The young man scratching his messy hair grumbled and shuffled downstairs with his soft-soled indoor shoes.

The dark-skinned maid waited on the side, smiled, wiped her master's face with lukewarm water, washed him, and helped him to the ceramic toilet——

When it was all over, he had to be busy instructing the other servants to put the dishes on the table, pour the coffee, and arrange for them to adjust the brightness of the gas lamps and the burning temperature of the fire in the fireplace.

To supervise the servants to keep quiet while his master dines - whether serving in the dining-room or not.

After breakfast, the host was dressed neatly and the coachman was waiting at the door.

At this time, the maid could breathe a little relieved.

"You, you, you today..."

"It's so handsome, I know." Roland stroked the young maid's loose hair, and there was a little moisture between the silk threads: "I'm sorry, Hallida, I was just joking. I will probably be inseparable for the rest of my life. You.”

The taciturn maid blushed and bowed with the other servants.

The carriage is not big, but the cabin is warm enough.

A hot discus wrapped in velvet had been arranged inside. There were thick hand-woven blankets on the walls and feet of the compartment. There was also a long ivory-colored warm quilt covering the legs on the armrest next to the seat.

The small dining table is covered with a dark blue cloth. On it are today's fresh fruits and bread, two small cheeses, a lighter, an ashtray and a few stacked books that the owner of the car may not read at all.

The wheel rolled forward slowly, and Roland put down his cane and took off his hat.

In the early morning, the city of London was filled with thick fog, and various sounds of horse hooves and wheels traveled through the fog - the public ones creaked, and the horse's hooves were as lazy and loose as the coachman's.

And a private carriage like Roland's and a separately hired coachman are full of energy.

"Hospital, hospital, hospital..."

He smoked a cigar and ate two small tomatoes until he felt bored, opened the blue print curtains and looked out the window:

They seemed almost there.

The outskirts away from the city are a bit deserted - I can't say it's good, but at least the air smells much more comfortable.

He saw a sign.

It read in strange, snake-like writing:

…

"Painted patterns are patterns."

"Whatever can move will move."

"Snake or blade? Blood or brain?"

"Naughty girl wants to talk to you."

"Everyone has scars inside."

"Welcome."

…

The dead branches beside the road twisted in some strange manner in the mist. They all stretched out their slender hands and spoke to Mr. Golden Eyes in the carriage as if they were hooking or waving in greeting:

‘Welcome. ’

The oil-soaked axle was performing well until the potholes ruined its laurels.

Roland heard the noise from the axle.

The carriage jolted a few times.

Stop on the side of the road.

Roland picked up his cane, opened the car door and got out.

The expensive leather shoes immediately got stuck in the mud: there were crows standing on the branches, or snakes coiled around them. Roland was not sure, but he saw another notice:

…

"The hospital is a church."

"The church is a hospital."

"More and less, the best and the worst."

"Not the Cross, not the One."

"Everyone's heart is full of holes."

"Welcome."

…

Roland followed the notice and looked forward: the building was looming in the fog.

They were two connected, towering and twisted crimson creations: they were made of some kind of seamless material, maybe stone, maybe flesh.

On the beautiful, almost hand-made rose window, multi-colored glass spells out a pattern:

A woman with a snake in her right hand and a key in her left hand.

The key dropped from a slender rope, and it happened to be an inverted golden cross.

The trampled path wound into two, and in front of Roland, there were two roughly similar doors leading to this building:

One is obviously a church, and the other is a hospital with wooden signs hanging scissors and saws.

He is a doctor.

Roland adjusted his tie and looked back at the notice board.

‘The hospital is the church and the church is the hospital. ’

After grinding the end of his staff in the rotten mud a few times, the new doctor hesitated for a moment and stepped onto a small path: the path leading to the church.

Crunch——

The arched door was unlocked.

Roland knocked a few times, but when no one responded, he pushed slightly.

In the darkness, a pair of eyes quietly met his gaze.

The people outside the door were frightened.

Green eyes.

"I almost hit you!" Roland yelled, taking two steps back in a hurry, until the curly hair emerged from the darkness.

Her figure was slender and agile, just like Roland's unfriendly opinion of her at first sight:

A mouse running around in the dark, or a slender, green-eyed weasel.

She didn't say anything, just stared at Roland and pushed the door open.

She walked out of the darkness.

She was wearing trousers that women rarely wore, a white shirt tucked into the waistband, and a thin lace was pierced on the collar.

Her hair was a little messy, and there was a piece of dust on her face.

"...Where is this?"

She asked.

Roland laughed angrily: "This is a hospital and a church. As an assistant, you even don't know where you work--"

It stopped abruptly.

Wait.

Roland's hair stood on end, and he immediately raised his head:

It was neither day nor night.

There was only a full blood moon in the sky.

Muddy swamp.

Weird dead branches in the thick fog.

Churches and hospitals in the desert.

Signboards.

And...

The silver ring on his little finger.

Roland tapped it twice with his fingertips.

That was the sound of wood.

"Rose..."

He narrowed his eyes and carefully identified the woman in front of him who had become familiar from a stranger. After the invisible veil covering her face was melted by his perception, the original soul of the thief was revealed.

Roland took a deep breath.

"Rose."

He called.

"...What?" The curly-haired girl was still stunned, "Me?"

"If you still can't realize it, I will laugh at you for a whole year - you should have told me your heart anchor a long time ago."

Roland muttered: "I really thought I was a doctor... How come a maid is... But it's really good to have someone to serve me. My uncle always likes to knock when I sleep in..."

He stepped forward and lowered his head.

"It's time to get up."

"Lillian Rose Vansittart."