The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 245 Ch.244 God's Mission

Ram Fiennes will not be punished.

But he could no longer be an executive officer.

"How could you do this?!"

The title of 'executor' was very important to him - especially for a man in gambling debt, it could keep him from having his hands and feet chopped off or being sold to some medical institute.

A ring ritualist.

Roland had never seen such...

How would he describe it?

"What's the difference between a One Ring and a mortal, Roland?"
-
How on earth did he become an executive?

"Then you have to ask what exactly happened to him during the years he was an executive officer."
-
You want me to sympathize with him?

"I want you to understand how many stupid things the big bat has done."

Roland was silent for a moment.
-
What does it have to do with you?

"…Don't fucking talk to me today, you blind bastard."

While the fight was going on, Fernandez asked some questions about the case.

Ram Fiennes didn't know much - five people had seen the angel, all at night.

People spread the word that the appearance of the angel meant the beginning of Bristol's prosperity: many days passed, and the rumor continued, but the angel never appeared again.

"Sir, can I, can I... can I..."

The emaciated former executive, whose mind was destroyed by smoking and drinking, was still trying to struggle, hoping to hear good news from Fernandez.

"I promise--"

"You don't have to promise me, Mr. Fiennes. Ask yourself, ask your own heart and soul -" Fernandez tapped his chest with his finger: "Where is your talent? Do you have the possibility to continue to climb up? How did you open the door of apprenticeship and brand the secret triangle on your palm? When did you upgrade the ring and gradually get further and further away from mortals -"

"And now, how are you different from before?"

“What changed you?”

"Is it the 'inaction' you mentioned, or is it the cigarettes, alcohol and gambling that destroyed your mind?"

Ram Fiennes gradually fell silent.

He drooped his shoulders, like an old dog that had been drenched with water, or a dying flower that had wilted in the sun.

Fernandez felt a little sad when he saw his expression.

He patted his shoulder, sighed, took out a few gold coins from his pocket and put them in his pocket.

"Don't gamble anymore, Mr. Fiennes. There's always a place for the One Ring Ritualists."

Fernandez turned around after saying this, but his sleeve was pulled again.

Ram Fiennes bowed his waist with a flattering look on his face: "For the sake of brothers and sisters, please give me some more - give me fifteen... give me ten, or another five pounds!"
-
Why didn't he rob or steal?
-
I see Rose's business is pretty good. Even a First Ring Ritualist should be able to do this, right?

"Can ordinary people compare with your snitch?"

"Besides, if he really had the guts to be a criminal and commit robbery and murder, you wouldn't have pulled him out of that bed tonight... A person who loses his courage will never be able to get up again."
-
You didn't say you wouldn't talk to me today.

"..."

"I really want to bite your head off."

Fernandez had nothing to say about the man with a hunched back in front of him.

Since becoming the Royalist, the Inquisition has been shrinking and removing unnecessary branches. Ram Fiennes is obviously among them.

There was no need for him to waste time on him.

"gentlemen."

Shandel suddenly spoke.

"How much do you owe? Two hundred pounds?"

Ram Fiennes glanced at Fernandez slyly and replied carefully: "...Yes, yes, miss, only two hundred, not a penny more!"

The gray-haired girl smiled innocently under the night light: "Two hundred pounds is nothing to me, Mr. Fiennes. Do you know Bristol well enough? We can't always rely entirely on the church, right?"

The meaning of this statement is very clear.

Ram Fiennes had no idea that his fate would take a turn in just a few minutes.

He almost wanted to shout out excitedly in the cold and deserted harbor. If he had a glass of sour beer in his hand, he would drink it all in one gulp!

"I know it very well! Miss, I promise! I know it very well!" He would not wait for this naive girl to regret it. He immediately pretended to be as pitiful as a bird without wings, shrank his neck, and ran in the opposite direction of the tavern: "...Tomorrow! Tomorrow at noon! Gentlemen and ladies! See you here!"

He bent over, turned a corner and disappeared.

Fernandez frowned and said, "Kratov, the Inquisition will not pay a penny for such a person."

Shandel stamped his feet a few times and blew warm air into his palms. His smile was dim in the dim light: "...That's right, Captain Devinson, I wouldn't do that either."

"But you-"

He was suddenly stunned.

Roland was used to it, so he nodded towards the tavern and said, "Let's go have a drink?"

Fernandez was still thinking about someone's fate. He nodded with a stiff face and walked towards the tavern: "I will ask the people from the Ring of Eternal Silence later..."

Ram Fiennes's fate...

If only he knew someone could pay him back those hundreds of pounds.

A gambler.

What will you do?

Shandel Kratov…

I hope you won't drag Roland, the pure, just, and promising executive, into hell with him.

He turned the alley and pushed the door into the pub.

Roland was stopped by Shandel.

"Hey."

"Ok?"

"Earrings." Shandel stroked his gray hair and pointed at his red ears. "They are really beautiful, Roland. They suit you naturally."

Roland pierced his left ear with a needle and put on her gift:
That strange eyeball-shaped object.

"I haven't had a chance to thank you properly, Miss Kratov." "I told you, call me Shandel."

The girl took out a silver necklace from her scarf: it was inlaid with several lake blue diamond-shaped emerald stones - almost the same color as her eyes.

It was a return gift from Roland.

"This necklace costs two thousand pounds, doesn't it?"

“Not even close.”

"is it?"

"One thousand nine hundred and thirty pounds."

Xiandel glared at him and smiled, covering his mouth: "That's really far from it."

She tiptoed lightly and walked to Roland's side. She raised her head with twinkling eyes and said, "I like this gift, Roland."

she says.

But he bent his arms and stretched them behind his neck to fiddle with them.

"But a little bit..."

"what?"

"It's too long. I don't know how to adjust it. I tied it in front of the mirror for ten minutes." Shandel turned around in distress, pushed aside the scarf, and put it on her back to let him see her slender neck. "It's right here, Roland."

She tapped the chain link with her hand.

"Can you tune it up? Help me?"

"Of course." Roland pinched the silver chain with his fingers. When his cold fingertips touched it, he could clearly feel the trembling coming from his skin.

"…Pull it up, Roland."

Shandel lowered his head and bit his lip, his voice sounding a little unnatural.

"Pull it up again."

Roland's lips were stretched into a straight line without any curve.

He didn't wait for the third 'lift', but simply grabbed the chain head, wrapped it around his finger a few times, and then...

Pull it up to the end!

"Well--"

The thin and tough metal was stretched taut.

The person in front of him was pulled by this force and even his body arched backwards.

"Cough-cough-"

She suffocated.

The blood had nowhere to go.

His lake-blue eyes stared blankly at the streetlights in the distance that stretched toward the end of the street. Then, it got darker and darker...

She began to kick off her deerskin boots, lying shamelessly on the man's body, her head leaning against him, her nostrils buzzing, her mouth wide open, trying to inhale more air -

But the chain behind me is getting tighter and tighter.

She began to feel fear.

'You'll die here.'

'It's going to get out of control.'

'the next day.'

'she…'

'How will it appear to those lowly people who are just about to start work?'

She stretched her hands back and scratched madly.

then.

That which was about to be locked suddenly loosened.

"Hehe-"

She almost vomited, holding her knees, shaking and bending over to retch.

Roland looked down at the marks on his palm, silently took out a cigar, and fiddled with the lighter against the wind: "...You have cultivated a very bad hobby in me, Shandel."

"He... Hehe... That, that is the mission given to you by Father God, Roland."

The blush on Shandel Kratov's face was like a gorgeous blooming rose, and her lips were bright and tempting, pursed, and then brushed.

She paused for about ten seconds, and when she saw that Roland couldn't light the cigarette, she walked over coughing.

Untie the scarf to block the wind, and hold the ignition device in both hands.

pat.

Flames jumped out of the metal pinholes.

The orange-yellow flames illuminated the faces of the two people.

A pair of amber eyes stared quietly at the girl with a strange smile.

He just watched quietly until the other person held up the flame, like a saint holding up a wreath for God the Father.

Send.

Lighted a cigarette.

"Men should be rude." Shandel blinked.

Roland thanked her, took the lighter, and scanned the marks on her neck and the Two Thousand Pound Lady who had been tortured inhumanely. "If I use too much strength and hear the sound of the necklace breaking, I will immediately kneel on the ground and wail like a poor unlucky person whose whole family has died."

Shandel held his neck and chuckled, "You won't."

After a few sounds, he moved closer to Roland.

"...Next time." She breathed hot air and looked seductively: "Next time, I only want a gift of two pounds - a thicker one, a strong chain that will not break."

Roland silently reached out to help her put on the scarf: "If you had told me earlier, I could have saved 1,928 pounds."

The girl's face flushed with satisfaction, her eyes sparkling with tears. She waited for Roland to tie her scarf, then she took two steps back, lifted her skirt, bent her knees, and joked with a smile: "Don't save money on women, Mr. 'Two Thousand Pounds'."

"I'll take note, Miss 'Unbroken'."

(End of this chapter)