The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 248 Ch.247 Ram Fiennes

This private casino really didn't have any 'cheating' - Roland meant that it was not like the little tricks played by the street thugs that he had heard Yam talk about when he was a child:
For example, guessing small wooden balls, dyed playing cards and so on.

This casino can be said to be completely 'fair'.

They don't make money by defrauding customers of their money, and they don't sit opposite customers.

They are the initiators and organizers who maintain fairness at the gambling table, and are the masters who take their share of the commission.

Roland and Shandel followed Ram and watched him skillfully pat various people on the shoulders, and then take another approach to a small number of people: bow, nod, shake hands, or just look down on them.

All kinds of people have all kinds of ways of coping.

Then, he came to a table that was longer than the front and back walls of his bedroom.

The gold-powdered gas lamp illuminated the table carpet with a red background and silver patterns. On it was a wooden gambling tool recessed into the table, and a circle of guests.

Some of them shouted, some sighed, some stamped their feet, and yelled at someone.

Very lively.

"this is very simple."

Ram Fiennes made room for Roland and Cinder to stand in front of the table - in fact, when Cinder walked over slowly, the men separated of their own accord.

Few ladies come here.

"Oh, show your spirit, gentlemen." Ram seemed to come alive in this gas lamp and lively atmosphere. He looked at the row of cards on the table, fumbled for a long time, and finally pinched out a shilling with body temperature from his pocket.

In front of you.

Other guests also placed bets.

The expensive cherry wood disc is engraved with a circle of numbers and painted black and red.

You can bet on one number, two, three, even six or twelve.

You can bet on the colors red or black, and you can bet on odd or even numbers.

When the ivory ball actually falls on the roulette wheel, starts to bounce, starts to roll, starts to spin and gets slower and slower, the real winner will be decided - he, or they will enjoy the prize money on the wheel alone or share it together (after paying a certain commission in proportion).

Is this interesting?

Roland watched Fiennes place the shilling on the spot where the number "3" was written, and next to his shilling there was a golden two-pound note.

"If I win like this, I will have to split the money with him..."

It’s like I’m really going to win.

The ivory ball bounced twice, spun many times on the roulette wheel, and finally, as the guests expected, it stopped at the "16" position.

There happened to be three of them there, placed there by the two men earlier.

There was a sudden sigh.

"Is this interesting?" Roland turned his head and asked Shandel in a low voice, puzzled. He didn't understand why a ball, a cheap wooden board, and a circle of numbers could make these big kids quarrel all night.

"Not at all, Roland."

Shandel had no interest in the game, unless these people were betting not gold pounds but their fingers or teeth.

That would be fun.

Like life in a monastery.

While the girls are bathing, take their clothes away or... put something interesting in them.

Then, amidst the collective prayers, enjoy a tragedy that dances under the gaze of the gods.

A deeper drama...

For example, add some interesting solvent for scrubbing floor tiles into a large tank of water in a room.

The holy, pure, beautiful girl who had not been pierced by a spear would cover her eloquent mouth and spit out the only sincere thing in her body from her throat that was devoid of truth.

Bright blood.

She would spray blood on the faces of other candidates, and they would scream. She would choke on blood and cough violently, and her desire for life would make her keep asking for help from those around her, and then in despair, she would watch her friends retreat silently with horror on their faces.

She sprayed her blood on the silver-shining Holy Cross, and when her body was taken away, the blood on the cross was quickly wiped clean.

——The Holy Cross will never be tarnished, all thanks to the dignified faith of the believers who shed blood.

She watched Roland pick up a shilling, throw it on a certain number, and then wait for the result: he obviously didn't have any luck, but he was not disappointed. He pouted and prepared to try other toys - he didn't have much interest in this toy, which was good.

If it's just for me, even better.

The Shandel in Shandel's heart smiled foolishly, while the Shandel who was in charge of the flesh remained reserved and elegant.

She followed the messenger of the Father around the casino, watching the golden-eyed messenger as curious as a child, laughing, clapping or putting his arm around Ram Fiennes's shoulders, which suddenly reminded her of someone.

The only person she had ever been close to, other than Roland Collins?

She now...

Probably, still in the monastery?

Shandel didn't know, nor did he care.

"Mr. Fiennes, I'm curious, do you prefer this game because of the money or because of the excitement?"

When Roland put down the poker in his hand and won seven shillings, he completely lost interest in this smoky place.

'Both, Mr Collins.' Ram Fiennes evidently liked Roland to call him 'Sir' - Sir, and not 'Hey' or 'that old fella' or 'rubbish' or 'stepping stool'.

"The weekly salary of a formal executive is quite high."

Not to mention that in the nearly ten years before Roland, it was too easy to become a formal executive.

"Three pounds..."

Fiennes scratched his thigh, wiped the sweat from his palm, and grinned, as if mocking this delicate man who didn't know the sufferings of the world: "Three pounds is not enough for a person to live on, Mr. Collins."

Roland didn't care. He walked on the soft carpet with Fiennes to the new gambling tables, chatting with him as they walked: "At least when I was in the workhouse, three pounds? If I had three shillings, I could live well - I don't know why this high weekly salary is not enough for you to live on..."

He said, speaking lightly and unorthodox words.

"If you really need a lot of money, you shouldn't come here and try your luck with these people. You should rob people as bailiffs, or find a moonless night and sneak into the house of a big shot and take something away."

These words frightened Fiennes so much that he stopped immediately.

He turned around in horror, looking at Roland, then at Cinder who had a look of "that's right" on his face, and couldn't help but begin to doubt the true identities of these two people.

"It's just a metaphor, Mr. Fiennes."

Ram Fiennes was a little angry at Roland's bluffing and pretentious words and gestures: "Come on, kid! If I had four rings, I would go and rob that noble lord. Even if I became a criminal, was wanted, arrested, and hanged, I could still enjoy myself for a few months - but I only have one ring, sir!"

"One Ring! Can't do anything!"

Shandel smiled.

This is just an excuse.

If Yihuan could do nothing, then there would be no criminals among the mortals in this world - if she wanted to, a girl who was not as tall as a table could set fire to her parents.

To her, Ram Fiennes was like the pendulum of a clock.

A pendulum that doesn't swing.

To the left is good; to the right is evil.

He is in the middle, neither good nor evil, neither good nor bad.

Want to be rich, but don’t have enough courage; want to be respected, but don’t have the strength to be respected.

He rots in mediocrity, bad but not completely bad.

Like the dirt on the soles of shoes, the stains on the hems of skirts, the oil spots on the tablecloth - everyone knows that these things are inevitable, and there is no question of whether they like it or not, let alone "noticing" them.

She likes extremes, upside-down things, and confusion.

(End of this chapter)