The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 223 Ch.222 Christmas

Christmas is coming.

In fact, Roland didn't really look forward to this festival: every winter, people froze to death in the workhouse.

Maybe it was someone Roland was familiar with or unfamiliar with, or maybe it was his close friend.

Gradually, Roland disliked winter, this festival that never brought hope and joy.

The trustees sang and drank, and for a week the yard was filled with the aroma of roast chicken and steak sauce - James Jones had given him a small silver cross for Christmas one year, but later it was lost for 'some reason'.

He never received another gift.

Until this Christmas.

His Christmas with Pushou Collins.

"My boss wanted to invite you to celebrate this holiday, uncle." Roland took off his coat and stamped his feet at the door to shake off the winter air. "But she was obviously not sincere enough, was she?"

Puhu Collins took off his hat and put it away, leaning on his waist with one hand, and said sarcastically: "Oh, you want me to spend the holiday at the same table with your woman?"

"What should she call me? What should she say? 'Uncle Pushou Collins? Your wonderful nephew?'"

Roland: ...

"It's really great."

"I can't see that woman. She must be at least thirty years old, right? I advise you to make plans early - wait until she loses interest in you, and you never know, she might not treat you so well."

"Uncle, I didn't get much preferential treatment in the court."

"Well, the most important thing in life is not to lie to yourself."
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Why do you talk so much?

"No preferential treatment? You've been idle all day, and recently you asked William to make you a whip - do you think I don't know... I don't know... this whip..." The old man became more and more vague, his eyes swept across Roland's hand, then he turned his head and went into the house.
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whip?
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What does he know now?

The flame is straight and quiet.
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wrench?
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Small wrench? -
My dear, beloved, most important wrench.

"You're not going to let me speak."
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Merry Christmas.

“Don’t try that!!”

Roland curled the corners of his mouth.

The house is particularly warm today (perhaps because it is a festival, and old Collins claims today to "let the flames burn my flesh and blood" - under this banner, he burns the fire without limit, and warmth is inevitable)

"We should shovel some coal back, uncle. You prefer firewood?"

"Don't be so sarcastic. Shoveling coal costs money, you know?"

"I have plenty of money."

"Oh, you got it by whipping? Promise me you won't let me see any welts on you."

An old man and a young man, talking to each other.

There was an oil lamp in the room, and old Collins used the oil lamp to light the gas lamp.

He specially spent a 'high price' to buy some holly branches and a crooked 'little tree' - this medicine shop was like a forest that had been cut down several times, revealing poverty and stinginess.

"I have a hundred pounds a week now."

"Yes, I know. And it was given to you by our Queen on her knees, right?"

"How do you know?"

"The Collins family is always so talkative. Boy, take the plate over... You didn't invite anyone else to your house today, did you?" Puxiu Collins stuck out his butt, dug out a few delicate dishes and knives from the depths of the cabinet and handed them to Roland. Suddenly, he became alert again: "I don't want a woman I don't know to knock on the door while we are eating and drinking..."

Roland couldn't help laughing: "Just the two of us, uncle——"

Before Collins could catch his breath, Roland continued, "At the same time, there were several..."

"Roland Collins."

"Just the two of us."

Old Collins gave him a smack on the head.

"Go quickly. I made turkey and meat pudding. Also, why is the sofa you bought different from what William said?"

Roland came to the dining table, set the tableware, and asked without turning his head:
"What's 'different'?"

"The brand you mentioned. William had never heard of that brand - but he knew the logo on the bottom of the sofa."

Roland turned his head, looking a little confused: "Maybe the clerk made a mistake."

Puxiu Collins smiled wryly: "Maybe some little bastard has cheated me."

A crude sofa of unknown brand only cost a dozen shillings, but the one Roland bought was a "branded" one.

William is a leatherworker and he knows this famous brand.

"I don't know what the price is these days, but the one from six months ago was, at least, at least three pounds."

It's a pity that he even placed the old picture frame and wooden drawer on the sofa.

Old Collins learned the "secret" that day, and the first thing he did when he got home was to move the "rubbish" around the sofa, and then use his thinnest face cloth to wipe it with warm water four or five times - even after doing this, he still felt uncomfortable. God knows how many scratches he had made on the leather surface before.

It's all money.

"You should have told me earlier."

"And what are you going to do? Put the couch on your head to prevent it from coming into contact with anything but your scalp? If you could, you'd probably be able to earn enough for another couch pretty quickly."

"I think I should put you on the head."

Roland lowered his head and said nothing.

Old Collins was not going to fall for it. He propped himself up on his hips and said, "If you dare to say 'okay', you'll have to eat while standing."

This dinner is definitely the most sumptuous meal of the year for the Collins family.

Old Collins also poured Roland a glass of wine that was said to have been 'treasured for many years'.

"Merry Christmas, Roland."

Old Collins clinked glasses with him and wanted to say more, but when he looked at Roland's face, he didn't know what the "more" meant.

He coughed twice and asked unnaturally: "…Are you satisfied?"

"what?"

"I mean, uh, I mean... me."

He scratched his neck and tugged at the silk bow tie that Roland had given him for tonight: "Am I... a... competent... uncle?"

He stammered, as if being a man, it was really shameful for him to say such 'womanly' words.

But Roland wasn't having any of that.

He smiled and looked gentle: "I think..."

"There is no better uncle than you."

He said.

Puxiu Collins lowered his eyes and stared at the calm red wine in the glass: "...That's good."

The two men remained silent.

suddenly.

A sharp and piercing noise of friction was heard in the room.

Puhu Collins suddenly stood up from his seat, stared out the window in surprise, and then looked back at Roland.

With his belly sticking out, he quickly ran to the corridor, took off Roland's coat, put it on him, and pulled him out without saying anything.

To the door.

The winter wind rushed into my neck.

In addition to the whistling wind, there were also bits of ice flying onto the face.

It started snowing.

Paul Collins stood behind Roland, pushing him by the shoulders, pushing him out the door, into the street, into the snow.

"Roland."

There was compassion and a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Snowing."

He said.

He held Roland's wrist, opened his fingers one by one, and asked him to open his palm so that the invisible man could use his palm to welcome the falling, solidified gray-white, cold raindrops.

He supported him, raised his head and looked at the gloomy sky.

Cherry-Chloe, wearing a dark blue fur coat and holding a silver-threaded parasol, stood not far away with Nina, quietly looking at Roland.

"You've grown up, my 'little brother'."

Cherry's voice was gentle, penetrating the snow and memories: "You are becoming more and more like a man who is truly worthy of love."

Roland said nothing.

"You've learned how to act profound without any instruction, little blind man... Right, look up and show your jawline—" Nina narrowed her eyes and poked Cherry-Chloe beside her with great delight, laughing without any image: "Oh my, he looks like a decent person now, doesn't he?"

Cherry smiled: "This shows that we have good vision."

"Of course." Nina covered her mouth and let the tears flow down the back of her hand.

Roland looked at the parasol and silently brushed off the snow on the shoulder armor of the silver knight who was kneeling beside him.
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Merry Christmas, wrench.

"Merry Christmas, Roland."

(End of this chapter)