The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 309 Ch.308 Discussion
When Roland and Cinder hurried out of the dungeon and discussed in a low voice where to find the small candle, the nun was already waiting at the door.

She carried a basket on her arm and bowed to Shandel.

"You are as beautiful as ever, Master Kratov."

There is a cake in the basket.

When you look over, you can vaguely see two small red beans popping out from under the cream on the cake.

Roland: ...

"Thank Erendira for me." Shandel took it with a smile and asked about the other person's health as usual.

But Hannah just sobbed quietly.

"Miss can't leave."

Shandel was horrified: "When I was in the monastery, she could still stand up..."

Hannah said her young lady, the poor creature whom she loved more than herself and more than anything, needed a miracle, a miracle that shines on a paralytic and enables him to suddenly stand up and run and jump like a cat--

But this miracle did not happen to Erendira. Instead, she became more tortured by the disease.

"May the All-Father bless her."

Shandel lowered his eyes and said softly, "I have seen Erendira. I know she is divine and a flawless, uncut gem. Hannah, don't be sad about this. Doesn't her decaying body prove that her soul is even more dazzling and burning?"

Shandel held Hannah's hand, causing her to sob even harder.

She said that she was not serving a decayed and withered body, but a rare soul that was about to be sublimated and shone with pure brilliance all the time. She should be happy about this and serve and love her more considerately, more gently, more devoutly, and even more solemnly.

"Your melancholy and sadness are irrefutable. No matter how many words I use, they will only calm down the waves for a short time."

"You should not let the wind come, keep your distance from ignorance, and not associate with worldly suffering."

"Isn't that what we are here for?"

Shandel's words caused the passing nuns to glance sideways frequently - those young, obviously unfamiliar faces could not hide the excitement on their faces, and they slowed down their pace and tried to listen more to these words that touched their hearts.

Their skin has not been hammered and chiseled by holiness and piety, and is not thick and tough enough. Like an inexperienced prostitute, it trembles at the slightest touch.

If they were not in this holy place of suffering, they would even shout out "Long live the Benefactor" with their most sincere voices.

'Who is that?'

someone asked.

'Kratov. ' Someone answered: 'Sinder Kratov...'

In return there was a low cry.

'I've heard of that name...'

'She is almost going to be the saint of this generation...'

"You said it, almost."

The young nuns discussed in low voices, and here, the conversation was coming to an end.

"I haven't seen her for a long time, Hannah. Bring my blessings to Erendira, to this woman who has suffered and will be holy in the future." Shandel saluted again, and this time, Hannah also took two steps back and returned the salute.

During the whole conversation, she did not ask who the women around Shandel were, why they came, how Shandel was doing, etc...

She only talked about her 'Miss', sobbed, then turned around with red eyes and left in the spotlight.

"I thought you were going to call her Mary."

Looking at the departing figure, Roland touched his lips lightly a few times.

"That's for Erendira, I don't want it." Shandel also stared at the woman's back until she completely turned the corner and disappeared at the end of the road: "Erendira, my friend."

She turned her head and gave Roland a sincere look.

"You have too many friends in the monastery." Roland thought it was another 'Mary'.

"Erentira is different."

Shandel said.

The little snake in the cake hissed.

Little Candle: Father! You almost lost me!
Roland: Of course not. If I can't find you, I will probably appear here every night until I meet you again.

Little Candle: …I knew my father was the best.

Roland: How did you get into the cake? The hissing sound paused for a few seconds.

Little Candle: I arrived at a room, found the cake, and went in...

Roland: You're almost as clever as the one with green eyes.

"What is she talking about?" asked Shandel.

"She said she found the cake in the house and went in at once."

Shandel suddenly realized: "Maybe that room is not far from Erendira's room. I guess it was not originally prepared for us."

Erendira.

Roland understood a little from the conversation just now: the owner of this name was probably a fragile girl with an incurable disease.

She was well protected.

Roland quietly kicked away the hem of her skirt that was being stepped on, reservedly met the gazes of those around her, nodded to the curious young nuns, then turned half a circle and went back the way she had come with Shandel.

Perhaps because he easily cut off the topic with silence, Shandel became curious:

"Aren't you going to ask about her?"

"Who?"

"Erentira."

"…What does that have to do with me?" Roland tilted his head slightly, "Don't mention other women in front of a lady."

"You learn quickly."

"I always learn fast if I care about something."

Shandel curled his eyes.

Hearing Erendira's bad mood again was diluted by these words.

"I can make an exception for once." The gray-haired girl walked briskly. "I'll tell you about Helen Menzi."

Roland shook his head and refused: "How can I watch you make an exception?"

Shandel: ...

This guy always makes her laugh in unexpected places.

"…Helen Menzie, owner of the Silver Spindle."

They left the main building and stepped out into the sunlight and onto the lawn again.

The nuns who were taking a walk were replaced by a new group.

As they walked, Shandel talked to Roland about Helen Menzi and the "cult" she had.

Silver spindle.

This is a sect, or a secret cult, whose believers are almost all women: they use "sewing" and "spindle" as means to instigate those stupid and ignorant (Xindel's personal evaluation) women to treat the people around them - both men and women - in an extremely cruel way.

Their doctrines are bright and noble, but their methods are despicable and cruel.

'Suture' is used to treat yourself; 'spindle' is used to treat your enemies.

"If you see anyone with a needle scar on their lip or other part of their mouth, it's likely they're a member of the Silver Spindle," says Shandel.

Their teachings are very interesting.

"We are who we are."

This sentence is followed by: We are not "family angels", not someone's surname, someone's blood or someone's urine bucket. We are not the child's pacifier, not the father's goods, not the servant who specializes in needlework, not the mother's specimen and the husband's punching target.

Because the skirt was too long, Roland was busy adjusting his steps accurately, his mind was distracted, and he blurted out subconsciously:

"So what are they…fire-breathing dragons?"

This made Shandel laugh for a while.

"what."

She thought about it and agreed with Roland's joke: "Maybe."

(End of this chapter)