The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 6 Ch.6 Miss Toffee

Three days later, in the afternoon, Roland drew a tube of blood and handed it to the housekeeper.

The other party was a little surprised.

"You're getting better and better at it now, Master Collins."

"Isn't this what I should do?" Roland scratched his arm, pretending to be uncomfortable: "You have to arrange for someone to take a bath for me tonight, Seth. In the past two days, my sister has become more and more smelly, and so has I. uncomfortable."

He scratched so hard that his nails left red marks on his sickly pale forearm.

Seth looked down at the young man. Although his face was disgusted, his voice was still gentle:

"Not today, Master Collins."

"But I feel very uncomfortable!"

"Not today." Seth raised the syringe, put it in front of his nose and took a deep sniff, his eyes full of intoxication: "Today, your father and I... have something important..."

"Perhaps you could get the servant to—"

Roland felt the person in front of him bend down and his head quickly came closer to him.

It reminded him of snakes.

"Master Collins." The butler's voice was cold.

"You should have some basic respect for the All-Father..."

"Especially on days of prayer."

Roland lowered his head and closed his mouth.

"The pain of losing a child is not easy to calm down. I, and all the servants, are working hard on this matter. You should understand, right?" His voice suddenly became feminine, as if a soft tentacle was wriggling into Roland's body. In the ears:

"I heard that you have been staying in Miss Nina's room for too long recently..."

"Could this be why you're itching all over?"

Roland trembled and took two steps back. "…sorry sir."

The fire burning in the fireplace no longer provides warmth.

The surroundings became cold and damp.

"I hope you will just do what the master has told you." Seth clutched the needle tightly and said in a cold tone: "The young lady is becoming increasingly unconscious due to the torture of the disease - if you become like her, you may not know what the master is doing." You will be even more disappointed. I guess you don’t want to either.”

"…I see."

"Very well, I'll put cheese, cutlets, and bread in your room."

"Have a nice dinner afterwards."

Light footsteps walked away on the carpet, turned the corner, and closed the door hard.

Roland stood quietly.

Until the only sound left in the room was the crackle of fire tearing through firewood.

'So, I have a long time to spare. ’

The sunlight was deflected for a moment, and Roland's call received no response from the servant.

He stood up neatly, fastened his buttons, picked up his blind stick, and went to the backyard wearing a black suit.

The chair where he was basking in the sun was now a footstool over the wall.

"May the Father of All Things bless me to grow wings that can fly over the courtyard wall..." The young man clasped his hands together and prayed devoutly in the sunlight. "Maybe we can make the courtyard wall shorter..."

Apparently the All-Father would have no regard for him.

…………

…

Heliotrope, sapphire, oil lamp, cat's whiskers.

Walking onto the street, Roland rolled down his sleeves and dusted his arms while silently repeating the necessary materials in his mind.

The easiest thing to get is the snaketail.

There are many herbal medicine shops in the county - most of them are visited by girls. The most popular myrtle juice poured on the head is said to make the hair softer and emit a fragrance that attracts males in the sun.

It is said.

Roland moved between two houses.

The good news is: for half a crown you can buy ten grams of the same day's new arrival of Heliotrope.

The bad news is: he doesn't have enough money to buy the gems.

"Pure sapphire with sharp corners, the oil in the oil lamp where a woman cried all night, the whiskers of a female cat..."

Roland muttered back and forth, found a bench, leaned back and covered his face with his hat.

The ears are like rabbit ears, quietly unfolding and sticking out of the hat from both sides.

Think of a way, Roland, think of a way.

He heard men talking about pocket watches, work, and women; he heard women talking about clothes, hair accessories, and lip makeup: who in the capital designed what underskirts, and what socks they designed to show off their slim feet.

The newsboy murmured something about selling "gossip paper", which was reasonable; the lady selling paper, matches and milk was a bit annoying. As they passed by, their voices were so sharp that they almost cut Roland's eardrums - he quickly guessed that this 'noisy' sales method was a deliberate strategy.

Because someone has already spent money just to relax for a while.

Fortunately, there is no carrot seller in the 'Master District', otherwise Roland would probably not be able to hear anything amid the heavy grinding of wheels and the male voice resonating in his chest - the wheels of cars that can drive smoothly on this narrow street have been reduced. sound processing.

Yam said these old guys even had their carriages polished.

Too bad he couldn't see it.

At this moment, a very strange conversation came over.

Roland tilted his head and turned his ears.

‘I am the first, Mary is the second, and Isa is the third. Do you remember them all? ’

‘You are the first, I am the second, and Mary is the third? ’

‘Damn it! You are the third one! ’

‘Then which one are you? ’

‘I’m the first! idiot! There are three names in total, can’t you remember them? ’

'I just can't remember the order...'

He heard a woman scolding and a woman mumbling explanations.

The voices are all young.

'Okay, now it's changed. You are the second one. Remember, when you get it, give it to Mary. ’

‘Give it to Mary, give it to Mary, give it to Mary…’

‘You don’t know how expensive the new jewelry in this store is. I heard that there are many people waiting to buy it…’

The skirt passed by Roland, and the conversation between the three people became clearer.

This reminded him of the ‘experiences’ that Yam had told him: or in other words, an ancient profession that does not belong here but has been active in the world of the rich for many years.

Maybe this is an opportunity.

Roland thought.

I don’t have to wait until night to smash the window of the jewelry store.

Discard the plan in my mind and come up with a new plan. He stood up with a cane, put on his hat, and walked with them not far away.

They entered a jewelry store.

A jewelry store with many people.

Roland followed in - suddenly, he felt like he had entered a beehive, not only crowded, but also full of choking fragrance.

"Come on, dear!"

"Let me see..."

"Please pass me the gilded earring, thank you."

Roland lowered his head, shuttled through the crowd, and used his ears to find the three girls. He lowered the brim of his hat, walked to a counter and stood there - as long as he didn't move around, it would be difficult for the busy salesperson to notice that a nearly penniless blind man had mixed into the crowd.

At least he was dressed like that.

"Let me see that ruby ​​brooch, yes, what a coincidence, I just need a red one."

He heard the woman deliberately squeeze her voice to be sticky and sweet (like the triangular toffee that Yam had given her last New Year), and after the salesperson handed over the brooch, she began to discuss the design and craftsmanship of the brooch with her two friends until someone on the other side called the salesperson away.

Roland listened to them whispering and passing the brooch back and forth; then, there was an almost imperceptible movement near him.

Soon, the salesperson was called back by them.

"Let me see the necklace."

Miss Toffee seemed to have completely forgotten about the brooch and ordered the salesperson in a domineering manner - this also allowed Roland to finally confirm their identities.

Rich people don't talk like this.

If sarcasm and arrogance can be heard by the lower class, how can they show that they use another language?