The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 63 Ch.63 Two Cats

Beatrice's room is on the second floor.

To Randolph's regret, when he and Roland entered the room together, the girl first looked at Roland.

"My father and I are too busy and rarely at home."

Roland heard a sour taste of self-consolation in the words.

Beatrice Taylor.

She was sitting in front of the easel.

There was no paintbrush, so she dipped the paint with her fingers and smeared it on the canvas.

The window was open, and the sun shone on her blonde hair and on her colorful face.

The vase on the table was empty.

She looked at Roland, and her eyes lit up in an instant.

"Good afternoon!"

"It's morning now, Betty." Randolph reminded softly, and kept saying slow down - the girl almost jumped off the painting chair, walked to Roland in three or two steps, suddenly remembered something, turned around and ran back.

- took out a mother-of-pearl hairpin from the jewelry box.

The oil paint stained her blonde hair and left a few small marks on the box.

She combed her hair and put on a hairpin before she came forward with her colorful (originally pink) house dress.

She greeted him.

"Good afternoon! Roland!"

Randolph glanced at Roland and found that he looked normal before reminding his sister: "It's morning now."

"Theresa said that you can only paint in the afternoon every day."

That's why it was afternoon.

"You forgot, I told Theresa that you can paint in the morning." Randolph didn't mind the oil paint at all. He grabbed her hand and looked at it repeatedly, fearing that it would be hurt by the oil painting knife or something.

Then, he raised his hand and put the girl's untied hair behind her ear.

"It's time for lunch, dear."

Randolph's eyes were full of pampering, and he said softly: "Are you almost done?" He tilted his body and looked at the canvas.

There was a crooked person painted on it.

There was no nose or mouth.

Wearing a black windbreaker, black hair, golden eyes, and holding a cane.

Behind him were layers of gray-white fog.

Such a...

familiar person.

Randolph:...

His gaze at Roland was somewhat complicated.

To be honest, he really expected that the picture showed a 'brother'.

"It's a brother, but not a biological brother."

He wanted to chat with his sister for a while, but a servant came in from behind the door and whispered a few words in his ear.

He glanced at Roland and hesitated: "... I have to excuse myself for a while, Roland. You can go to the side hall downstairs--"

"I'll stay here with Miss Taylor, Randolph."

Roland tilted his head and asked: "Can I?"

"Of course, of course!" Randolph seemed very happy.

He personally rolled up Roland's sleeves, carried a chair for Roland, and ordered someone to serve tea and cakes before he hurried downstairs with the servants.

He and Beatrice were the only ones left in the room.

"Roland."

Beatrice opened her eyes wide and tugged at her pink skirt with green and purple patches.

"Roland."

"Yes, Miss Taylor. My name is Roland, Roland Collins."

She stared at Roland's eyes for a long time, then took a step back, as if she was looking at a painting.

"Roland."

"Yes, Miss Taylor." Roland replied softly: "I'm right here."

She pointed to the easel behind her: "Roland."

"Is the painting of me?"

"It's Roland."

She stared at Roland, watching him stand up from the chair without a cane and walk to the easel.

"Eyes?"

Roland put his finger on his lips and blinked at her: "Sometimes, you can see it."

"Secret?"

"It's our secret."

Beatrice understood and nodded vigorously: "Keep it secret."

Roland bowed: "Thank you."

"I feel like you're fooling a fool."

-

She and Brenda looked a lot like when they were little.

"What the hell is that?"

-

The girl in the workhouse.

Roland remembered the letter Yam wrote to him: the girl who often asked about his whereabouts in the letter was called Brenda.

"Oh, your workhouse not only raises blind people, but also stupid people?"

I mean 'a little', and I'm not blind.

"Without me, you can't see anything."

-

Eyes are eyes, and you are you.

"It's so sad that my little Roland actually starts to dislike me."

The crooked 'Roland' on the canvas remained standing, and a line of pale small words jumped on his side:

"May Roland Collins grow up like this in the future."

Roland bent over to look, and suddenly felt a little cold on his face.

Looking back.

Beatrice raised her index finger and smeared a line on his face.

"Miss Taylor?"

The girl pointed at her face and then at Roland: "So beautiful!"

Roland straightened up.

There was a golden oil paint on his left cheek.

Beatrice looked at Roland timidly without saying a word, retracted her hand, and moved her eyes away.

She was a little scared, and had some unrealistic expectations.

"Is it more beautiful now?"

The girl pursed her lips and nodded, still not daring to look up at him.

Roland smiled.

Of course he would respond to her expectations.

…………

……

When the maid Theresa entered the room, she saw this scene:

Master Randolph's beautiful friend was sitting on a chair, and the lady was standing in front of her, holding a palette with one hand raised and the other.

The two people...

Like wild cats rolling in the rainbow——

In addition to the complex coat colors on his body, he also insisted on adding more colors to himself.

The middle-aged maid, who was hit hard both physically and mentally, immediately covered her heart, took two deep breaths, stepped back half a step, and held on to the door frame precariously.

"...Beatrice! What did you do to your guest! Father of all things! Sir, you, how did you—"

The excited girl was startled and quickly hid behind Roland - when she realized that her entire body was still exposed, she raised her palette and tried to cover her head.

Then I got the paint on my palette all over my face.

Roland crossed his legs, the toes of his shoes were dangling, he twisted his body, tilted his head back without etiquette, and barely said hello to her.

"Hello, I'm sorry for being rude, I'm really busy right now."

Theresa:…

this…

Is this finding a 'similar person' for Beatrice?

It’s no wonder Theresa is complaining, she is considered to be from the generation of Randolph’s father, Bellows.

It can be said that she grew up watching the brothers and sisters Little Randolph and Little Beatrice. At the same time, she was also very aware of how friends like Belos and Randolph talked about Beatrice privately and even publicly.

She doesn't like them.

Fortunately, little Taylor is sensible.

He knew that she was his sister who had the same blood as him, and he loved her.

Holy Father bless you.

But this one...

What's going on with this Mr. Collins?

He is indeed a kind person, and I heard that he saved the young lady, but this...

Isn't this a little too much...

The lady doesn’t need a ‘similar person’.

"you…"

The old woman hesitated to speak, twisting her white apron with two rough and strong hands...

Then add the wrench to give her a small symbol hanging on her head.

"????"

Roland tightened his lips and nodded solemnly: "Ms. Taylor and I are discussing oil painting techniques."

"Yes, yes...yes..."

The old maid stuttered, and after answering several times, she immediately reacted, quickly opened the door, and returned to the corridor:

"Lei! Where have you been again!!"

She roared twice, and a young and slim maid floated in.

She wore the same black dress and white apron, and a headscarf. The bridge of the nose is high and the eyebrows are very thin; the brown hair is combed up, the face is like an oval, and the two eyes are watery.

The curvy girl responded in a low voice:

"Theresa."

"Clean up the house... Look at the lady's face. I'm going to help boil the water..." The woman was obviously not very satisfied with the new servant, and pushed her to make her move more quickly: "Don't damage the painting tools!"

After she finished her instructions, she leaned over with a smile and asked Roland to wait. She rolled up her sleeves and walked downstairs lightly and quickly.