The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 109 Ch.108 Bloody Weaving

"Hurry up! You idiot! Donkeys are smarter than you!"

Pink, wearing a thick towel and a smock, stood at the door and ordered the servants to arrange for the carriages to stop in an orderly manner.

The host of the banquet, Lord Mincecroy, and his close friend Orlando Wilson were having a secret conversation upstairs, so he was responsible for receiving the guests, arranging their seats, serving tea and cakes, and finally, notifying the master when the time was almost up.

His power had grown rapidly since Cherry-Chloe's death.

In the past, when the slut was at home, many things were taken care of by that woman or her personal servants.

Now, everything is good, he died cleanly and he found excuses to get rid of the servants - he can put a lot more money in his pocket every month.

As the housekeeper thought about it, the corners of his mouth curled up and a wisp of white mist came out.

The early winter wind had begun to prick his face, but he didn't feel cold at all.

Because the fire in his heart is burning.

The ambition that fueled his burning was like an inexhaustible forest that would grow again after being cut down. The flames steamed his uneasy heart and burned his eyes red: his wonderful future was so close and within his reach that he only had to tiptoe to reach it.

He didn't thank Cherry-Chloe or Mince-Chloe.

These are what he deserves.

If he had not taken the initiative to strangle the slut's neck that day, and then yelled at her, asking his capable subordinates to help - perhaps when Cherry Chloe died, he would have also left this precious mansion where it was spring all year round.

The only thing he had to be grateful for was his decisiveness that day.

And the three men around him.

His future is extremely bright. Who knows, he might even marry a woman with a generous dowry in the future.

"I think it's about time."

Perhaps the cold wind in the withered season was too harsh, or perhaps the higher you sit, the more delicate and intolerant you become of the cold. Pink tidied up his hair that was messed up by the wind, and turned to speak to his men beside him like a gentleman.

But apparently, this noble language is not circulated among them.

The manservant looked confused.

"Idiot! I asked you to go upstairs and inform the master!"

He held his collar tightly with one hand and scolded in a low voice.

The servant immediately put on a flattering smile and hunched over as he walked towards the house.

After a few minutes, no message came back.

The butler frowned slightly and ordered the second male servant beside him to go upstairs to pass on the message.

But soon, he too disappeared.

"... Lazy donkeys must be whipped." He turned around, facing the door, and spat a mouthful of thick phlegm at the stone foot of the porch. "You, go inform the master, and then go find them! I guess they are probably eating secretly in the kitchen, or taking a nap in the warm house..."

"Bring them back to me!"

The last servant beside him nodded with a silly smile, then turned and ran into the house.

The weather is getting cold.

"…Yes! My goodness! Mr. Benevento! I'm not cold at all. Look at you. I'm so lucky to be waiting here for you and to be the first to see you!"

The housekeeper's dry skin on his face was torn in the cold wind, and his smile was more exaggerated than that of the actors in the theater.

"Please come in... That's right! The master is preparing for a banquet tonight. You may not know that we are all busy just for you... No, no, no, it's not hard at all. I have endless energy - especially when I heard that the master is inviting you to the banquet tonight..."

After smilingly escorting the person into the door and arranging for the maid, Pink turned around and immediately frowned.

'A few lazy bastards who deserve to be hanged...'

The three servants disappeared like the children in the belly of a prostitute, and you didn't know where they went.

But the distinguished guest has arrived.

It would be very rude if the master didn't come down.

Pink tiptoed and glanced at the door. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he gritted his teeth, turned around and ran upstairs.

Second floor.

Since Cherry-Chloe's death, the bedroom they shared had been crudely boarded up.

The master specially set aside a room as his bedroom (although he seldom came back to live there), and secondly, it was his study where he read.

In the southwest direction, on the innermost side.

At this time, he should be talking about important matters with Mr. Orlando Wilson.

"It's too late. It's almost too late..."

Pink stood on the carpet with his back straight, but his feet were falling as fast as duck feet under the lake.

Nearly.

"Master! My handsome and smart sir..." He muttered to himself, walked lightly, tilted his ear, and listened at the door for a moment.

There was no sound of conversation in the room.

knock--

A sound.

It is only used to remind people in the house: Please get ready, someone is knocking at the door.

Then wait a moment.

knock --

Twice.

This is the official knock on the door.

At the same time, the servant outside the door could also speak.

"Sir, Mr. Wilson, the guests have arrived."

Pink lowered his head, stood outside the door obediently, and counted numbers in his mind. There was a long silence.

then…

knock --

Knocked on the door for the third time.

Theoretically, at this time, the owner of the room should respond.

however.

Still silent.

"master?"

Pink was a little flustered, scratching his head and pressing his ear against the door.

"master?"

"Mr. Wilson?"

knock knock --

Perhaps he knocked too hard and the wooden door opened with a creak.

The door was not closed tightly.

A strong smell of fish and rust hit me in the face.

Pink was stunned.

What is that smell?
The sudden "abnormality" made his mind chaotic and he couldn't figure out what was happening at the moment.

"…master?"

He called out softly again, tilting his head and looking into the house.

It was a pitch-black room with the curtains drawn and no lights on.

"master?"

Pink looked back at the empty corridor, shrank his head, and pushed the door open carefully.

A dark room.

The carpet seemed to be full of moisture and made a sizzling sound when you stepped on it.

He groped in the dark for the familiar location of the gas lamp.

Haven't touched the iron button yet.

He felt wetness on his neck.

It was cold, as if it was tissue paper brushing across his fragile neck.

Then he discovered that his smock was wet.

If there is something, it will spray out from the body.

The dizziness comes from top to bottom.

I feel top-heavy and the head is spinning.

He couldn't stand and fell to his knees, clutching his neck.

But he could soon no longer kneel. The sudden intense pain made him feel like a thief with a broken leg. He could only lie on the ground, curled up, and then stretched.

Twitching, then immediately stiffening.

After struggling like a fish in the mud, he finally touched something -

“He…Hehe…”

It's a human leg.

Someone was lying in front of him in the same position.

The body is still warm.

He began to suffocate and coughed as if he was choking on water. It seemed as if someone was pressing his head under water and he couldn't breathe at all.

Some hallucinations appeared and disappeared, slower and slower, more and more real.

He saw his father who froze to death and his mother who abandoned him.

A cheerful laugh was heard.

The figure gradually approached, glowing and covered in beautiful white tulle.

The fragmented illusion slowly overlapped.

Folded into a familiar figure.

Yes…

It's Cherry Chloe.

"He...he...che...husband..."

He stretched out his arms to ask for help or mercy, but Cherry-Chloe just smiled with her hands behind her back, staring at him feeding the expensive carpet bit by bit with his cheap blood.

'She' was circling around him, pacing slowly as if she was admiring an animal she had never seen before.

He heard her speak before he died.

As light as a dissipating wave crashing against a cliff.

'The dead send you greetings.'

'Mr Pink Brown.'

(End of this chapter)