The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 83 Ch.83 One of Kate and Marissa

A mouthful of thick phlegm was spat into the sewage.

The feces and urine that overflowed from the tub were thrown into the sewage.

The water used to wash the body was muddy and was poured into the sewage.

Raindrops as fine as wool needles are mixed into the sewage - an indistinguishable black mirror that reflects light at night.

They were spanned by a pair of small leather boots.

"I'm back."

The girl who pushed open the door shook off her hood and patted her shoulders and knees. The rain splashed on the mud, and she stamped her feet.

"Mother?"

Kate yelled twice in dissatisfaction.

There was movement in the room slowly.

A faint red light shines like an oven in a certain room.

She rubbed the soles of her shoes in the mud and went into the house with the two pounds of black bread she had just bought.

On the wooden table were leftovers from the previous two days: half a plate of unnamed weeds, blanched with water. A few pieces of moldy round mushrooms, a small jar of sticky black grease, a fork with a few broken teeth - and some flying insects with wings.

Kate Pacetti put the bread on the table and blew away the rotten smell that filled her nostrils.

Like her mother, she has thick long hair, beautiful eyebrows, a pointed nose, and legs as slender as her arms.

My mother was leaning against the bed, with a pile of matchboxes piled on the linen covered with rat bite marks.

By the candlelight, the middle-aged woman concentrated on the thick piece of paper in her hand: she raised her head and glanced at her daughter, then lowered her head and continued busy with her work.

"There you go again," she said.

This ruin-like cave was even colder than the outside. In the dim light, the outline of my mother was blurry and difficult to distinguish.

Kate Pacetti hummed, lowered her head, opened the paper boxes, and sat half-assed on the edge of the bed.

I felt uneasy.

"I bought you bread."

He seemed to be taking credit but failed to get a corresponding response.

The mother groaned, turned the carton over with skillful hands, dipped the wooden stick in the paste and dabbed it at the corner, and then pinched it with her hands.

Only then did she find the time to look up at her daughter.

Look at this rose that grew up in male and female urine, feces and all kinds of sewage.

The more she looked at her daughter's uneasy eyes, the less she knew what to say.

Sighed deeply.

"That's not the life we ​​should live, Kate."

The girl pursed her stubborn lips and said nothing.

"It's time for you to get married. I asked about the man in the blacksmith shop next door. His mother worked as a servant for a wealthy family, and his father was a porter. The family has its own rental house. When you get married, you can earn at least two wages a day. You can have a meal.”

The rain outside the window became heavier.

Drops of slurry followed the cracks in the roof and fell into the house.

"I saved some money for you...ahem..."

The more the mother spoke, the colder her daughter's body became.

It was like the winter wind coming in through the broken window and into her heart.

"I want to dance." Kate muttered through gritted teeth.

This time, it was mother's turn to remain silent.

"Marissa," Kate held the rough linen cloth, raised her head and looked at her mother, "I have to go, I have to go."

"Look what you have learned from those people." Marissa couldn't stop coughing, picked up the cardboard box on her lap, put it aside carefully, sat up and leaned against the wall, "How much does it cost?" ? Is that the life we ​​can imagine? I finally asked someone to let you into the factory..."

Kate lifted her mother's quilt and turned to face her: "But I don't want to go!"

"You don't want this or that, my dear, you've made a mess of your life..."

"I think you are complaining that I made your life a mess..." Kate retorted in a low voice.

On this issue, mother and daughter have been quarreling a lot during this time.

Kate didn't want to end up like her mother, a life ruined by cardboard boxes, gossip and terrible people.

She has a chance.

She is prettier than her mother, softer than her body, and smarter than her.

This is not the kind of life she wants.

The opera house's carpets were gorgeous and soft, and she would starve to death chewing the velvet curtains and the fabric of the satin high-back chairs.

"I am...ahem...I can't control you...ahem..."

As a mother, Marissa couldn't convince her grown-up daughter. She gathered the box together, then reluctantly supported her hand, and pulled out a small cloth bag from the crookedly nailed low board cabinet.

There was a clanking sound inside.

She opened it with two fingers, glanced inside, and reluctantly handed it to her daughter.

"...We only have so much at home. If you don't have to take a carriage, you can still have two months..."

Kate took the coin bag and lowered her eyes: "...Mom."

Instead of riding in a carriage all day long, she first walked to the dance studio, not far from Teacher Parrett's house, called a carriage, and let the coachman pretend to pull her for a few steps:

In the eyes of other students, she came by carriage.

"If I don't show off, who will make friends with me?!"

The more she spoke, the more aggrieved she felt.

Is she doing it just for enjoyment?

She walked so far every day, almost across the entire town.

It was only a short ride.

How could my mother say that to me?

"Okay, okay..." Marissa touched her daughter's long hair, which was as soft and silky as silk. "...How about you want me to ask that kid to buy you two more packs of hair cream..."

Kate shook her head slightly in disgust.

"Teacher Parrett said that low-quality hair cream will damage your hair. I have to use better ones..."

Seeing that she had finally convinced her mother, the daughter, like a little bird, took her mother's hand and chattered about what she had seen in class.

Exquisite portraits.

Bright, fragrant music room.

Soft carpets, mirror-like lacquered piano.

Beautiful bird cages with fine patterns and thriving vines - even the gardener was so polite.

She would rather marry the gardener of Mr. Paret's family than look at the dirty blacksmith son.

Not even a glance!

The mother stared at her daughter with a beaming face in the candlelight. Decades of experience and instinct made her ask a question:

"Can you really join the chorus?"

Boom.

These words, like the sudden thunder outside the window, woke up many people's dreams.

Including Kate Pasetti.

She was not the last one among them, but she was not outstanding either.

Every year, those who can be recommended to join the troupe either directly bypass Mr. Paret and start directly from their family, father or some other relationship; or, like her, they come from ordinary families. Only those who are selected and have talent can be selected...

There are only one or two places every year.

Kate Pasetti is not excellent.

Her mother seemed to have noticed something and began to sigh again.

She did not take back the bag of coins, but pulled one from the cabinet, and with the short candlelight, she picked up a wooden stick and began to fiddle with the paper box.

A sense of shame and unwillingness surged into Kate Pasetti's heart.

At the same time, some wishes...

or desires, also proliferated wildly in her heart.

Kate tightly grasped the cloth bag soaked with sweat and left the room.

Outside the window, the sleeping giant was snoring, and lightning flashed.

It illuminated a tearful face.