The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 399 Ch.398 Randolph's Discovery

Regarding the "puzzle" in the puzzle box, Roland just held the mentality of "continuous attention" - he branded the words "the world will change" and "invention" and "discovery" in his "cat ear mode".

That is: once there is a sound, he will quickly turn to the direction of the sound like a cat's ears.

As for the puzzle box...

He will pay attention.

——Delis will not be unaware of what position a human should occupy in the world after "transforming" him into an alien.

This approach makes it difficult for Roland to believe that he really has a "great mission".

He believes that the greatest thing he has done in his life, besides killing Miguel, is to skin Chloe and Wilson.

Oh.

And hanging Chloe on the street lamp.

This is probably close to the art that Mr. Sara said.

"Roland!"

The childish voice brought someone back to his senses.

In the painting room.

The trembling ones are shaking in front of Roland.

Someone bent down and wiped the wet liquid on his face with his finger.

It was two golden whiskers.

"Cat Roland!"

"Let's talk about it separately, Betty." Roland smiled with his eyes narrowed, and handed her the other side intact: "And this side?"

"Gold?"

"Any color you like."

Bronte stood in the corner obediently, watching the two "crazy people" one big and one small, gesturing on their faces with watercolors - she was basically used to it now, and she was not very "afraid" of Roland: this young and handsome gentleman was like a child in private.

Or just a child.

He was different from Randolph.

The heir of the Taylor family was gentle in private, but he always showed a bit of maturity and stability, which made women feel at ease... the kind of male-specific, macho style.

And this Collins...

Alas.

It was completely a rag in the wind (Bronte didn't dare to describe it to her face, but she did think so) - a rag in the wind, just thinking about it makes people sigh.

"How am I!" Roland put his hands on his hips, looking proud.

The girl raised her hands, splashed the paint everywhere, and shouted: "Beautiful!"

"What do you want to say?" Roland asked.

"Thank...thank you?"

"It's 'Thank you, you are so beautiful'."

Beatrice puffed out her chest, her face full of pride: "Yes!"

Bronte slowly raised her hand and silently spread the red on her face.

"Miss Bronte, I heard that you are thinking about a novel recently...?"

Roland turned his back to her and put the sea blue paint on his fingers under Beatrice's eyes. A few small drops, like condensed clear water drops, rain from those blue-purple eyes.

"…Just an idea."

Bronte lowered her head slightly, a little embarrassed: "Please don't laugh at me."

"How could I laugh at a writer who is about to become famous." Roland sat on the round stool without looking back: "None of Randolph and I have such great talents. To be honest, you should let Randolph buy a newspaper to avoid trouble from annoying people in the future."

Bronte was speechless.

Because Randolph Taylor was already considering it.

But she didn't want to.

Can she really become a writer by just writing a few lines?

And because she bought a newspaper, if there was no movement after publishing it...

She really didn't have the face to be little Betty's teacher and stay in Taylor's house.

That would be really embarrassing.

"…I, I have an idea, would you like to hear it?"

Bronte would not tell Taylor about this.

She didn't want to get the answer that was always: great because of some feelings.

Roland Collins was different.

He was sincere (ruthless).

"Of course, do you need me to turn around?"

"No! I... I mean, you just do it, okay? Let me think about it..."

She told Roland a story that was not very meticulous. Perhaps such a story did not need to be too tight, and no one dared to say:

It will definitely not appear.

Who knows?

"Isn't it a bit..." Roland heard her pause and asked: "Are you trying to create a girl with a tragic life?"

"Yes, isn't that great?"

Bronte seemed very interested.

Tragic life...

Rowland didn't know what was great, but he didn't ask any more questions.

Then, the story became interesting:

The heroine's experience was very similar to Miss Bronte's - she also went to school and was hired by a family as a teacher.

At the same time, she also developed feelings for the owner.

"Tsk."

-

Tsk.

"What, how is it, sir? Do you think it's good?"

This is not a question of good or bad.

Miss Bronte.

Is it a diary?

The crazy woman in the story...

Could it be Beatrice?

Roland looked at the girl in front of him who was holding a paintbrush and laughing foolishly, and felt that her ending was a bit...

"You were burned to death, Betty."

"Ah." The girl who hated cleanliness tilted her head, and her golden hair that was combed to one side rolled down like a waterfall, and her big eyes were full of questions: "I am not dead."

"You were burned to death, you reaped the consequences."

Bronte secretly rolled her eyes: "Sir, that's just fiction, fiction! It was changed into the plot of the story, so..."

"Miss Bronte."

"Sir?"

"Anyway, I don't see where Randolph is upright and tough - what is the name of the male protagonist in your novel?"

"Edward."

"Edward Teller?"

Bronte:…

She really copied what Randolph Taylor wrote, well, she just made some slight changes.

"A good story, Miss Bronte. But it will take you a lot of time - it's not easy to write a novel these days, and I hear a lot of people are criticizing it in the newspapers."

Bronte nodded.

Teresa came in.

"Colin...oh, sir, you are like a rainbow." After the old maid finished speaking, she saw Beatrice sticking her head out from behind Roland, and couldn't help but smile: "It seems I spoke too early, miss."

She's not surprised now.

The Rainbow brothers and sisters were washed and washed by the maids, especially Roland - this man doted on Beatrice and actually let her braid those ladies' yarn and small gem hairpins in his hair.

As a result, the three maids worked around him for a full forty minutes to remove the things that should not be on the man's head.

Randolph almost died laughing.

"How can you be more like her brother than me."

"I don't know, Randolph, but your sister said she wanted to buy me a dragon."

"Don't give me any more dragons."

Randolph glared at his sister who had just finished washing. She was wearing a headscarf and looked like an Arab.

"Go to your room, Betty. If you get sick, you won't see Roland for two years."

The Arab ran away, with Bronte chasing after him.

"...She never ran away like this when she saw me." The sharp-faced businessman felt unhappy and said in a strange tone: "I heard that you recently promised to play the piano for her?"

Roland wiped his cheeks with the cloth handed by the maid, thanked him softly, and said a few times: "A friend taught me how to do it, but I need to get better at it for a while."

"Just let her stay at your drug store."

Roland frowned: "...are you reluctant to spend money to buy a dragon?"

Randolph hit him with a cigar.

It's hard for the two of them to tell the difference between you and me now - especially when they get along with Roland. Now, Teresa probably understands why her young master can become friends with him.

Because even she likes this young man...

Um…

Except when he and Miss were causing trouble around Taylor's house.

"What do you want from me today?"

After wiping the water stains on his face, Roland took another cut cigar and lit it.

Randolph also stopped smiling.

"I see you don't have to hesitate, my brother. Your sister has already agreed to buy me a dragon. Is there anything else I can't do to help?"

"Fuck you, Roland," Randolph pinched his cigar and rubbed his face, "...well, I have something to ask you...maybe I just want to ask."

He slowly lowered his face.

"I found out the origin of that 'white soil'."