The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 94 Ch Snow

Edward Snow lived in a small hotel near Cross Street in the East End.

According to the address, Roland visited before noon the next day.

I don’t know how many residents are crowded into this four-story building. The clotheslines extend out from the balcony like spider webs and intertwine with each other. There are still wet clothes and trousers hanging down, and checkered color-blocked skirts like tattered rags, which are resistant to stains. The striped shirts were washed white, and there were also some socks and a few new clothes - usually without collars.

The people who live here don't deserve collars either.

Exquisite and solemn gentlemen drove through the intersection in carriages, or traveled side by side with a lady, facing the primitive people on this side of the road across the sea.

Through the clothes dripping from the top of my head, the hotel smelled of shit and urine.

In addition to the children's cries, more abuses and curses from women could be clearly heard through the thin door - mostly curses from the child's father, but occasionally the curse would spread to the child. There are still a few houses that are silent, but the wooden doors are open.

There was snoring inside.

Roland went to the third floor and spent a long time choosing among dozens of narrow doors, but he couldn't find the "No. 7" that Edward Snow said.

If you want to sort, you must first have a beginning.

The house was built so that no one could figure it out.

He listened in the corridor for a while, found a door where the curse was least offensive, and tapped it a few times with his fingernails.

The room fell silent.

"Who's out there?"

"Hello." Roland stood up straight and faced the door: "Which side is room seven?"

Someone is walking in the room.

After a while, the door opened a crack.

Showing half a vigilant face.

Of course, after she saw Roland's face and his clothes clearly, her expression and tone became surprisingly gentle: "...Hello, sir."

Her whole body was steaming, and she still had time to comb her wet hair——

Thin fabric cannot block the most competent part of a mother.

Seeing that Roland had no reaction, the woman in the door became even more unscrupulous, smiling like the collar of her loose nightgown.

"This place is not worthy of your status..." She glanced secretly into the room and whispered: "If you want to talk to a woman about something else, the whole building needs to know... I have the smallest voice here..."

"I haven't had lunch yet, ma'am."

Roland interrupted with a smile, rejecting his mother's explicit instructions.

"It's the same for eating in the room." She grinned and widened the door gap: "It's the same for eating anything..."

"No. 7——"

The mother was not very happy, and she didn't really want to give Roland directions. She muttered and got entangled: "...I still have three daughters. Don't you want to look at those pure and beautiful eyes-"

Just as he was talking, the door on the side opened.

A man with no hair on his head and slightly bushy sides was pushing the door while carrying a wooden basin.

By chance, he met Roland.

He wears a pair of gold-rimmed round glasses, a hump nose, and a long and slender head.

Roland didn't know him, but he seemed to know Roland.

"...Mr. Collins?"

He called out tentatively.

Roland turned his face sideways, looking for the source of the voice: "Snow? Dr. Edward Snow?"

In just a few words of dialogue, Roland's actions made the woman in the room discover something.

She quickly retracted, made a loud noise, spat at the door, and said, "Blessed by the benefactor" and "He is actually a blind man," and then slammed the door.

Edward Snow looked at the door and then at Roland, and the corners of his straight mouth trembled slightly for a moment.

"...You're a little too late, Mr. Collins."

Edward Snow wore a loose gray cloth smock and a pair of loose velvet trousers.

He poured the filth in the tub down the window at the end of the corridor, ignored the abuse downstairs, opened the door and invited Roland.

"You came too late."

He sighed.

There was only a 'bed' made of several pieces of wood and irregular boards, a leather suitcase, two folded clothes, candles and a table.

The walls were uneven, making it more like a man-made cave than a room.

"I just came back last night and saw your letter. Mr. Snow, Mrs. Chloe..."

The man put down the tub and turned around, his face as calm as a portrait.

"She is dead, Mr. Collins."

He said.

He scooped two spoons of water from the basin and poured it into the bowl. He asked Roland to sit down and pushed one of the bowls to him.

Roland didn't touch the water in the bowl, crossed his fingers, and lowered his eyes to the table.

"You mean, she is sick..."

The turbid water only reflected a distorted face.

"I mean, she died."

Edward Snow seemed unaware of it, lightly skipping the matter of 'death', and continued on by himself:

"To be honest, I have never agreed with such crude and physically destructive 'treatment' for 'hysteria'..."

"If that can be considered therapy."

He didn't seem to be emotionally shaken at all by Cherry Chloe's encounter. There was only a trace of strange ridicule on his calm and cold face, as if he had watched the sarcastic look on the crowd of women wearing crowns at night.

Snow picked up the bowl and took a sip of water to moisten his lips.

"... They encourage women to release their hope. Yes, I don't disagree with Hippocrates' statement, but you know that as times change, we have to force ourselves to look at some things from the perspective of another gender."

He said.

"But that's the end of it. To say something disrespectful about Mr. Isaac's... 'gizmo' - it's a complete and degrading trick."

"What else can you do with chloroform, scissors, and a soldering iron?"

Edward Snow shook his head, pinched the slender temples of his glasses with his index finger and thumb, and raised them up to the hump of the bridge of his nose.

"I have seen a woman who had a silver flute resection performed. Although it is exactly what Mr. Isaac wrote in the report: she gained weight, her face was pleasant, her manners were elegant, and she became different from before..."

"The nerves in that area are no longer inflamed - it means that she has given up and given up the practice of always messing with that thing..."

Edward Snow's straight lips finally moved, "...but she was gone, wasn't she?"

Roland listened quietly to what he said, and after finishing the terms that he didn't understand at all, he spoke softly:

"Where is she, Mr. Snow?"

Edward Snow was stunned for a moment and then realized that Roland was asking about Cherry Chloe's grave.

"…She was taken away by her brother."

"Since you are friends with her, you should know that since Mrs. Chloe's father died, there has been no one else in the Wilson family."

"I don't know how he and the Lord discussed it, but to be honest, I have strongly suggested that Mrs. Chloe's body be preserved to facilitate my subsequent-"

Roland suddenly interrupted him rudely:

"You mean her body is missing, right?"

Edward Snow frowned and nodded reluctantly.

"Yes, Mr. Collins."

He saw it.

The 'physically perfect' gentleman in front of me does not have a soul that seeks knowledge. He simply does not want to talk about the knowledge that only a truly noble and knowledge-seeking soul would be willing to listen to.

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose several times.

"The last time I saw her was in the hall of Chloe House, she was being grabbed by the servants - oh, she said, she left something for you, just in her brother's memory... but I don't know what it was I mean, Mr. Collins.”

Roland lowered his eyes and said nothing.

he knows.