The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 291 Ch.290 Current Situation
What would a city look like where tens of thousands of people died?

What would a land that had just experienced a disaster look like?

Roland lay on the railing of the fourth-floor balcony to enjoy the fresh air.

Looking down at the street from the limestone building, people seem particularly small.

He suspected that the people he met at the salon looked at every living thing around them in this way.

A well-dressed gentleman in a top hat was bargaining with a man in a felt hat - the item they were trading was the three black men who were at a loss not far away.

The two seemed to have their own opinions on the price. They lit cigarettes in the cold wind and talked to each other.

Next to them sat a woman with her skirt torn off. The two children, like mice in a coal heap, had only their eyes shining. They huddled in their mother’s arms, hiding far from the mat.

On the mat lay the body of their rotten and smelly father.

The hawking sounds are still heard.

Black smoke was still billowing from the factory chimneys.

The newspapers were full of sarcastic or impassioned spittle from reporters and writers:

Some people satirize politicians on a daily basis, while others satirize the satire of the former and express their own "opinions", believing that they can be considered "good citizens" if they actually come up with something.

The white robes coming and going on the streets bring faith.

They bowed down beside each victim, sprinkled holy water, left prayers, and nurtured new hope for these suffering souls.

Politicians were mobbed in the streets, loudly proclaiming that if this or that were the case, the future would never be that or that.

All the merchants became very friendly.

They no longer scolded these men or women with bad odors as they did in the past, but instead expressed kindness and greeted them with a smile, just as they would to their own parents and guests.

Gentlemen, noble gentlemen and ladies, did not mind the "disturbance" of these bereaved people, and would never frown at the corpses on the street, the swarms of flies or the sobbing.

People who came and went comforted each other. The swords that had been sharpened by life were now rolled up, revealing their soft bellies to each other.

Everything is going in the right direction.

Roland shook the newspaper on the table and walked downstairs.

Go to the men who are trading in blacks, go to the corners, to the bodies and the women and children.

Unfold the newspaper.

Spread across the face of a maggot-infested corpse.

He might just want a newspaper.

The woman looked up at him, her face like a melting wax figure, her dark brown tears drying into winding coal roads.

She opened her mouth, but her throat, which had long been dehydrated by thirst, could not utter a single wail.

Her mouth shape is:
'May the All-Father and the Goddess of Nature protect your soul forever.'

Just as she had received it, she passed the message to Roland again without any deduction.

A newspaper that had been read was exchanged for a silent blessing. Both of them thought they had made a profit.

"If I gave you a pound, you and your children would not survive the day."

She saw the miraculous man, who was far more practical and handsome than the Father of All, leaning against the wall - next to a stinking, rotting corpse, her own ugly self without a husband.

"Y-yes… sir."

She pumped all the saliva she had produced today into her body to moisten her throat, hoping that her words wouldn't be hoarse and scare this delicate and precious gentleman.

"But if I give you two shillings, you won't live through the week."

Roland folded his hands and tapped the wall with his heels.

Some passers-by looked over and their eyes lingered on Roland's face.

So he lowered the brim of his hat.

"Where's your home?"

"Gone."

"How did your husband die?"

"He became a monster." The woman smiled stiffly, hiding the hatred in her eyes: "Maybe, he drank unclean water."

If you become a monster, you have to pay compensation for the innocent deaths.

"Not a penny left?"

The woman said there were two more.

——If a monster appears in the house and injures or kills innocent people, it is normal to pay compensation.

But there was a lot of news circulating among the citizens, and everyone had some guesses about where the monster came from.

and so…

They sympathized with each other.

Families where no one has died sympathize with those where someone has died; families where someone has died but is not a monster sympathize with those where a monster has occurred and someone has died.

Like a tower with layers going down.

But when the Holy Cross and the government demanded "compensation" from the monsters -

They have no sympathy for each other.

"My uncle was killed for no reason, shouldn't we be compensated? I think it's good enough that they didn't take the living person away from the house that raised the monster."

Roland rolled his eyes.

The woman's older daughter was playing with the flies that were flying around her.

The little daughter timidly grabbed her mother's torn skirt and buried her head in her arms.

She had been pulled out wet, and now she was dry and there was no way back.

"Sir..."

the woman asked in a low voice.

"When do you think it will be our turn?"

With so many people dying, people have to queue up for burials. Of course, there are those who don’t have to queue up: if you are willing to break the remains of your family or friends into small pieces, wrap them in shoddy cloth and bury them anywhere…

Then there is no need.

Roland: "What was your husband's job when he was alive?"

Woman: "A porter."

Roland: "What about you?"

Woman: "Washing clothes for others..."

Roland smiled and said that you might have to wait for a while.

The arrival of large numbers of ritualists from the Ring of Eternal Silence will prevent these corpses from becoming more dangerous; nor will the ritualists of the church sit idly by and watch a plague spread in Bristol.

Hope arises from disaster.

The light seen in the midst of pain and hopelessness can truly leave a mark on the soul.

Every place where a disaster has occurred will become a breeding ground for truly devout believers in the years that follow.

Bristol is special.

Their disaster comes from hope.

So it is more troublesome to deal with.

"…I, my husband, will have to wait a long time, right sir?"

The woman's throat felt better. She covered half of her injured face and raised her head slightly.

She finally saw the real details of the handsome man's face.

But as she watched, she suddenly whispered:
"Your...eyes!"

Unfocused pupils, he is blind.

"Of all things..." The anger that she had suppressed for many days seemed to have found a place to go. She wanted to put her hands together immediately, chant the name of the Father, and drive out the cursed people - but at the same time, she thought of the "Holy Marrow", monsters, death, lost home, property, and husband.

Tragic future.

So, after 'all things', scolding took a turn and became the name of another god.

"Fiery Turbulence! Ruler! My goddess... please bless you... your..."

She wanted to say 'a devout believer', but the practical lady knew that she could not fool God and she was not a believer of Eve.

She kept getting stuck like this, over and over again, feeling embarrassed and helpless like a machine that had gone awry.

In the end, she looked at Roland with eager eyes and begged this cursed man—

But the man looked ferocious, bent down and stared at them:

Father God! I am willing to believe in you again! Please, please bless your...

"Tell me your name, ma'am."

The golden-eyed man raised his lips, his tone full of malice: "I am cursed, and I will also curse those I don't like..."

The woman was frightened.

She didn't even care that the newspaper on her husband's face was blown away by the cold wind. She hugged her child tightly and closed her eyelids so tightly that it seemed like she could squeeze an immortal to death.

"I I apologize to you!"

She seemed to think that she could be forgiven by a blind man because she was blind too.

"Tell me your name, ma'am."

Roland remained unmoved, holding his knees and repeating it again.

at this time.

The little daughter came out from the woman's arms, blinking her bright eyes as she looked at Roland.

"Saren."

she says.

"what?"

"Seren." The little girl covered her mouth with a piece of cloth and hid it: "...Don't curse mom. Curse me."

Roland chuckled: "You will regret it, girl."

The girl hummed and asked again: "Is it okay?"

"You're finished." Roland stared at her and said grimly, "For those who are cursed by me, every candy you eat in this life will not be sweet."

Without waiting for the mother and daughter to recover from their daze, he stood up and left.

When I turned around, I saw Enid, with her arms folded, looking at me from a distance with a half-smile on her face.

"Are you too idle, Roland?"

"…You too, Enid."

"I am the presiding judge."

"I am the judge's... um... lover?"

Enid rolled her eyes at him.

"The curse is terrible, isn't it?"

Roland just laughed.

"Saren. I have a say with the Ring of Eternal Silence. There are too many low-level ritualists doing this job." Enid stepped forward and walked side by side with him: "Settle her husband down and give him a less crowded place to rest?"

"Thanks, Enid."

"In fact, even if you help her, you should know what their ending will be."

"But it's not their fault."

"It's not your fault, Roland."

(End of this chapter)