The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 240 Ch239 Flowers in the Storm

Chapter 240 Ch.239 Flowers in the Storm

Anyone who has been beaten for playing with shredded paper knows that happiness is only a moment, and it takes a long time to clean up...

It's dying.

Either the person who was cleaning up took the life of the person playing with the paper, or no one cleaned up.

Kill yourself.

It only took a moment for the golden little fireworks to erupt together.

But it's too difficult to deal with them.

It is winter now, the season of howling winds.

These thin sheets of real gold were rolled everywhere, either sticking to a gentleman's face, or wrapped around a lady's hat or squeezed into the folds of a skirt (which left the men at a loss) - not to mention those that flew to other areas, they were like winged five-pound coins, and wherever they passed, there were monkeys with extremely strong jumping ability.

No one cared about "respectability" at that time. As long as you could get a few, you could exchange them for pennies and shillings.

That's gold!
——Originally it wouldn’t have been discovered so quickly. Until someone working on it got really impatient and cut corners, and the paper became thicker and thicker…

Rose has few helpers.

Anyway, it's either Roland, her, or Beatrice.

Someone must have been lazy.

The paper was not of the right thickness, so it could not fly up and fell to the ground, with countless pieces smashing into the mud.

It spread quickly.

All afternoon long, the word 'paper is pure gold' spread like an epidemic through London - the philandering, the greedy, all kinds of people came out of the factories, out of the homes, out into the streets.

The newsboys were stopped and taken away by the police, and their little guns were looted.

Then, the men discovered scratches on the paper.

No, it's not hand-carved, it's pressed by a machine.

There is a simple blessing line written on it:
'Merry Christmas - Marvolo Hayman.'

Christmas is long gone.

It's really a belated blessing.

Passersby who were not aware of the inside story of the matter loudly praised the owner of this surname, while the few who knew about it just laughed to themselves, and then told everything when asked by the curious.

The Heymans were defrauded of £40,000.

Apparently, today's 'Golden London' comes from this generous family.

That's very generous, Mr. Hyman.

That's so generous.

London today is not one ten-thousandth as brilliant as you were.

——But just as everyone was celebrating and joking, a group of policemen in black holding wooden sticks began to sweep the East District.

"Shut your mouths! Hand over the paper you found! It's evidence - shut up! Do you want me to throw you in jail?!"

They threatened to take away these 'pieces of paper' - but they were just pieces of paper.

Of course the citizens were not happy.

“I picked this up.”

"Shit! This is the Heyman family fortune - push it back!"

"I haven't broken any law... Don't touch me! For the love of you, what's wrong with you guys? Don't touch me! I haven't broken any law - I'm going to sue you! I'm a citizen of this country! What gives you the right to - F**"

Insults, quarrels and shoving soon turned into a more violent conflict.

Of course, this only happens to some people.

The gentlemen and ladies in their capes and the latest scarves did not even touch the scraps of paper on the floor.

At most, they would pick it up and look at it curiously, then throw it away with a look of disgust.

Scotland Yard was established not long ago and does not have enough staff to cover the whole of London.

They swept through one district after another, trying to take back the wealth of the big guys from these poor people who got rich without working.

Roland set up a small table on the balcony, and he and Rose tasted the gift from Mr. Chanderson, one cup at a time. Brewing noble rot wine is an extremely risky task, but it is necessary to do so in order to create such a smooth and fragrant masterpiece.

Just like someone did today.

But Rose honestly felt that this person was not doing this for the ceremony, but was simply enjoying this thrilling and crazy fun.

"Golden London."

The smooth fragrance of the wine spread in his mouth. Roland held the wine glass, tied his hair down low, and let his black hair spread in front of his forehead. He tilted his head lazily and looked downstairs.

Rose said little for half the afternoon.

She was actually quite excited, but not because she realized that the third condition of the ritual had been completed. She was excited because:
Finally, I can wipe away the foggy breath on the glass and see the true self of a person.

Seeing his soul as calm as the turbulent waves beneath the lake in the afternoon.

Roland.

This is Collins, the man with the vicious mouth, golden eyes and black hair.

He is the same as himself.

Crazy just right.

"You like it too, right?"

Rose held the glass, her green eyes sparkling with a different kind of splendor. "What do you like?" Roland focused on the two men entangled downstairs, watching them fight for a piece of gold paper, and then fight against the detective who came after hearing the news.

So funny, law abiding citizens.

"Adventure." Rose gritted her teeth and bit off the string of silence: "Or... chaos."

She is not a submissive person.

But if she takes off her skirt, there are many people who are willing to do whatever she wants.

Ever since she grew up, ever since she understood what a "mirror" was and admired her face in the mirror for the first time, Rose, who came from that background, knew very well what she could get from them if she wanted.

Some people have money and will buy her everything;
Others will not restrain her, and use that 'what a woman should do' to restrain her;
Some people can solve her troubles, and say they can take care of whatever mess she has made;

The other group of people are responsible for loving her, loving her humbly and devoutly, and providing the kind of love that the previous ones do not have.

She can eat the best.

She ate tender lamb, fresh fish, and top-quality steaks that cost many shillings for the sauce alone. She drank expensive wine, which caused many people to die in ocean storms and stained their blood.

She can buy jewelry box by box and clothes closet by closet.

She doesn't have to go out to 'work' on the streets, sweat when the sun is hottest, or walk through the streets when the winter wind is coldest.

She just had to put on the exquisite collar, pick the golden lock with her well-maintained, slender fingers, walk in proudly with her head held high, and close the cage door from the inside.

Debauchery, wealth, and countless days of honor.

Her background, experience, and memory made her confident that she could achieve half of it.

At least more than half.

She just wanted to be happy dealing with gentlemen and ladies, to satisfy them, but not completely satisfy them - not to use a razor blade to open a purse, or to use her fingers, which should be as soft and tender as a baby's, to pick locks and climb through windows.

Then she was beaten, and like a tomboy, she tore off her skirt and ran away with her men, cursing.

No need to listen to the most vulgar insults in the pub and then respond with even more vulgar insults.

She once wondered if she was a 'freak'.

Even Anne had the dream of becoming a 'woman' - and she?

Be content with the status quo.

She loved stealing, robbing, walking on a knife's edge, and the thrill of having her heart pumping and her brain vibrating.

The thought of tightening her waist, being wrapped in layers of inner and outer skirts, and walking around in those exquisite banquets with her skirt swaying - she felt bored, scared, and suffocated from the bottom of her heart.

She would rather soak in rum all her life, steal in the thundering night, rob in the storm, and even fantasize about kissing the one she loves in the most rigorous pursuit.

She had no fear at first, but she started to feel fear again after meeting Roland.

She was afraid that she would be raised to death in his extremely gentle, golden vase, but at the same time, she was happy to do so.

She was terrified of withering, but she couldn't accept the disgusted look from the person who wanted to raise her:
'That's not the flower I like, not what I imagined at first.'

She was worried about this, so she wore casual clothes less and less, imitating the women in the elephant gang and the ladies on the street.

But today.

Roland seemed to give her the answer.

'We want to create a storm within the storm that is more chaotic than the storm itself!'

He didn't seem to plan to transplant her.

"I grew up in the storm, Roland. I can't live in the soil."

The girl put down her wine glass, stood up, and came to Roland.

In the young man's puzzled eyes, he cursed and rudely pinched the other's face.

Then, he hit the other person's lips with his own.

After a while, she straightened up with a red face, wiped her mouth, and held her head high: "Keep up the good work, pretty face. You've been doing well recently, and I quite like it."

But when he turned around, he looked a little embarrassed.

She pressed on the peeling iron railing on the balcony, flipped over, and quickly disappeared from Roland's sight.

"She won't sprain her ankle, right?"

"It would be nice if you were mute."

…………

……

"Ritual": —— (Second Ring)

"Ritual": Lawless romance/strange objects/occult organs/admirer's kiss

"Turn the rolling boulders into balloons and the trumpets into morning glories!"

"This world is absurd enough, so..."

"We need some truth!"

……