The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 220 Ch219 Lillian, Rose, Vansittart

Chapter 220 Ch.219 Lillian, Rose, Vansittart

My mother died and I am an orphan.

She never told me when I was born, but she often let out a hint when she yelled: "I had you on my most unlucky day."

People call me: Daughter of rotten fish.

I had no idea what it meant (until I smelled my mother's skirt).

As far as I can remember, I have lived with her in a gray three-story building - like a beehive, full of women and men who arrived every night.

Everyone could be my father, and everyone could not be.

Some of the "aunts" and I can chat. They like my curly hair and green eyes, and often say that these two eyes are as expensive as the emeralds on their fingers - "You must cherish this pair. From now on, just lie down with your eyes open, no matter how painful it is, just look at him like this... That's really addictive."

'he'?
A gentleman called Peter slipped me twopence to see what he had on his back--but my mother wouldn't let me in with him, and scolded him for half an hour.

Aunt Meris died a month ago, and at that time, the smell of rotten fish in the bedroom was very strong.

The aunts spent a few pennies and commissioned the men to wrap her up in a quilt and carry her down the stairs like a broken piece of furniture.

Soon, a new aunt moved into her room.

'When can I have my own room?'

I asked my mother.

She told me gently: 'Soon.'

I don't know what goes on in that room every night.

My mother told me stories about werewolves, and she said these men were no different from the werewolves of the Silver Moon.

——To make sure I believed her, she asked me to stand outside the door several times and listen to her shouting:

'His teeth are big and pointy!'

I was afraid that the fangs would hurt me, so I asked my mother if she could wait a few more years, or let the werewolves bite me.

Mother agreed.

My mother's name is Lillian.

She died of disease, or the werewolf's fangs, or the whip around her neck, or the smoke from a burn on her chest.

There must be one, right?

I guess.

Later, my mother died and I became an orphan, living with my aunts.

It was also during this period that I discovered that I seemed to be different from other people.

I could sneak into any room without being seen by others; I could take some bread and fruits from the kitchen in broad daylight, and then watch innocently as men and women accused each other; I could feel where my aunts hid coins on their skirts just by touching them.

I can take it away without them noticing.

My aunt, who lived in the same room with me, said that this was an absolutely extraordinary talent: she was knowledgeable, beautiful, and her hair was as soft and shiny as silk.

'You should make good use of your talent.'

For several months after she said that, I would steal food for her every night.

In contrast, she told me about the "world" outside the building——

The real world.

For example, the smoking factories, the entertainment of the coachmen, the jewelry that was so expensive that I couldn't believe it, and the rivers and ships that I had never seen before.

'It's a pretty good world, isn't it, Auntie?'

I asked.

However, she showed no interest at all and told me with her eyes downcast:

'No different than here, dear.'

'There is no difference.'

How can there be no difference?

I don’t hide behind doors anymore.

I hid in the closet, and whenever the werewolf came, I hid in the closet.

My aunt didn’t dare and couldn’t expose me. After scolding me a few times, she let me go. That year, I realized that men are not werewolves.

Although most of them were also furry, fierce, and manic, a few of them could still speak a little and were willing to listen to their aunt.

One of them, I really think is kind.

He was wearing a black suit and a tall hat on his head.

The first time I came, I talked to my aunt about tea and cake, some exquisite words that I couldn’t understand - his tone was so gentle, so gentle that it made me feel: If there is such a person, who would not want to follow him?
Every free night, my aunt would hug me and ask me, or ask herself.

she says:

'Should I go, or shouldn't I go?'

I don't know, but if I had to choose, I would definitely want a father like that.

'It's not the father, you fool.' My aunt laughed at me and pinched my nose: 'It's a man, not the father.'

What is the difference between a man and a father?
I asked back.

So she stopped talking, turned over and stared at the moon outside the window.

The gentleman came more and more often, and the aunts in the building gradually became familiar with him - Mr. William, I remember calling him that.

But every time he only came to his aunt's room and never went to anyone else's.

Later, he heard about me and even brought me cakes and pieces of marshmallows several times.

'Your aunt is the most beautiful woman in this building.'

Mr. William often said this to me.

I think he is right.

later.

My aunt finally made a decision.

'I'm leaving. ' She had saved a lot of money in a locked box.

There is a pile of golden coins, and I have no idea how much they are.

She gave me a handful and put it in my pocket: 'Don't go into any room, dear. Come with me, or go away secretly at night - do you want to come with me?'

I have never left this building since I was a child.

outside world?
I'm a little hesitant.

My aunt didn't persuade me much. She just looked at me and sighed for a long time.

"It's not that I won't take you with me. Don't blame me in the future, dear."

She asked me to keep the money, cover the box, and give it to Mr. William.

He would save his aunt's money first, and then, next month, find an opportunity to hire a carriage and take her away - leave this town, and even this country.

He mentioned a place, but I can’t remember it, and it was said that you could only get there by boat.

A month passed, then two months passed.

Three months, four months.

I never saw Mr. William again, the man who was fit to be a father.

My aunt also became more and more strange - she asked for more work on her own initiative, and every night she would tighten her grip around my neck and whisper something in my ear.

Sometimes she would stare at the moon in a daze, or suddenly pour tea on her head, take off her skirt, and break into other people's rooms laughing.

I was a little scared of her, but no one cared about her except me.

I would secretly give her food every night.

But she always gets food all over her body and face.

Women are afraid of her, and men are afraid of her too.

Gradually, she lost her job.

One day, I don’t know where she got so much oil from - she asked me to go to the cellar to find her hidden treasures, and took this opportunity to set the quilt on fire.

She wrapped herself in a burning blanket and broke into other people's rooms.

Soon, the entire building was on fire.

The wood was burned and many people were killed.

I couldn't tell her bones apart, and I had no idea where to bury her—no one was taking the bodies of anyone from the building.

Only fire can purify the unclean.

Her name is Rose.

—I hid in the cellar for two whole nights until someone broke in.

She is like a giant, but also like a reassuring thick wall.

'A child.'

she says.

'You're lucky.'

I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled at her.