The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 355 Ch354 Unexpected Gains

Chapter 355 Ch.354 An unexpected gain
The Elite Art Association is located in the West End.

The complex is divided into several different large venues such as art, music, and libraries, some of which require special passes, while others can be entered for a monthly fee of a few shillings.

Louis Heyman gave him a seemingly highly authorized pass, and he taught in his own room on the second floor of the music hall every week.

Start with the basics.

The decoration of the music hall is relatively conservative, following the Baroque and classical styles. In addition to the lattice gold bricks on the dome, the arched glass allows people to feel the warm wind and snow indoors.

Walking in the empty corridor, you can occasionally hear the playing of flute or piano, coming from a room or a side hall.

This special sound amplification structure always reminds Roland of St. Cross Cathedral in London.

There are no poor people here - no need for 'almost'.

Almost everyone who crossed paths with Roland had to push open three doors: a wealthy family, ample time, and a pass to the Elite Art Association... or an invitation.

"I've never been to such a high-class place..."

Perhaps it was the towering dome or the stunningly luxurious decoration that caused the thief holding Roland's arm to lower his voice carefully, and his bold steps were as standard as if he was stepping on a ruler: "...These pianos are not cheap, are they?"

She was referring to the pianos and some dark brown string instruments she 'didn't recognize' that were placed in the long hall.

"A few hundred pounds."

Roland followed the gentleman's cane and took every step very slowly.

Here, it is impolite to walk fast and it is also impolite to talk too loudly.

You should move along a path that you have planned in your mind long ago. Don't hesitate too much, and don't suddenly go to someone else's path while walking.

You must always maintain a smile that is neither too tight nor too loose, and give a moderate smile to people you know or don't know.

You have to wear straight, unpleated pants and a three-piece suit that fits the purpose.

If you come to practice, there is a more casual way of doing it; but if you are here to appreciate it, it is completely different.

"How do you put up with this trouble?"

"I think it's quite interesting." Roland nodded gently to the man and woman passing by, and touched their lips: "Don't you think this is also like a huge, extremely real stage play?"

"I'm more interested in the wallets in their pockets." Rose pinched his arm to express her dissatisfaction: "I won't come next time."

"When I learn it, I will buy you a guitar and teach you."

"I don't want to learn." The clever ghost rolled his green eyes and looked around: "...When you learn it, just play it for me."

"No problem." Roland tightened his wrist: "Rose."

"Ok?"

"Put my wallet back where it belongs."

Rose: ...

The girl said "oh", then, grasping the flat leather bag the size of her palm, turned her palm over and wiped it on her skirt.

The wallet disappeared.

“Now, it goes where it belongs.”

"I must remind you, Miss Vansittart, that you are now worth many thousands of pounds."

"What does it have to do with my theft?" Rose seemed to have discovered something interesting. She ignored the strange looks from the people around her and pulled Roland to the other end. "What kind of trouble did you talk about in the fairy ring last night?"

"There's a horn on me."

"…what?"

"The ram." Roland tapped his nose. "The hard one in front of the ship."

That's hard.

You really know how to use words, Mr. Civilized.

Rose curled her lips: "I guess it's a woman again. Why do you always mess with women?" They turned left and right and turned into a winding corridor that was as painful as a broken heart.

The floor beneath your feet is made of hardwood cut into geometric patterns, and the walls are covered with oil-painted tiles that represent "art."

Extremely Beautiful.

"Shh..."

She gestured and tiptoed to touch Roland's ear.

'listen.'

This winding corridor led to an open hall. If they didn't turn, they could just hide behind the wall and listen to the melodious piano music coming from the hall.

'When I arrived... twenty minutes ago?'

She leaned over and blew into Roland's ear:

'These two people are really shameless.'

"Look at your posture now, Queen of Morals."

The flame twisted into an enormous arrow.

The girl, who was obviously there to watch the fun, pulled Roland and asked him to try to look inside.

——In fact, the piano sound was intermittent.

The dialogue takes up the time of the music.

"...Yes, you are right! My father has a lot of land... Well, that's nothing. I have to thank my father and this prosperous country."

A man's voice.

Next.

woman.

But why did Roland feel that it sounded a little familiar...?
"My father mentioned Mr. Shelley and his extraordinary offspring. Please don't say that. If you rely on your father and the country, then are there any truly smart people in this land?"

Roland showed half of his face and took a quick glance.

as predicted…

Madeleine Terry.

Madeline Terry, whose lover had just died. The triangular-eyed lady, Miss Corner.

The man she was praising was probably James Shelley's son, who was very proud of what she said - the two of them sat on the piano bench, four hands sliding aimlessly on the black and white keys, and from time to time they had a "telepathic connection":
You pressed my fingers and I pressed the back of your hand.

Then, they entangled each other silently for a few times and then separated without changing their expressions.

There was also some red wine on the piano. When the two of them got tired of playing, they would take a few sips and have a great time.

Mr. Victor.

Your understanding of art is still too...

"Too conservative."

"Don't say that, Miss Terry. I'm just a nobody, with some brains, but not the best. I'd rather be content with my good father's wealth and brains than to have the Shelleys ruined in my hands."

The man had his back to Roland, and only his broad shoulders could be seen.

The woman still looked the same, with a stern look on her face as if she was going to defeat the enemy at sea.

She listened to the man's humble words, and she didn't know what made her laugh, she giggled: "Oh, I've heard rumors about you, and I thought you were a rustic guy, carrying a gun, riding a horse, and covered in gunpowder..."

She is alluding to soldiers and battlefields.

Apparently, Shelley's son also heard it.

"You can't say that, Miss Terry." His voice was a little drunken and indulgent. He picked up the glass thorns that had been torn off, shook the flower buds a few times in an unruly manner, and took a few sips: "Those who sacrificed are people we must respect."

"Without them, how can we see the brightest sun?"

He laughed sinisterly twice and put his head close to Madeline. The perfume that penetrated into his nose catalyzed the alcohol in his blood, and the empty and deserted concert hall contributed to the shadow that was slowly spreading in his soul.

“…Without them, who would die for us?”

He said.

"The Shelleys are not stupid. I would kneel down for them if I had to - after all, they gave their lives. They are a group of loyal and brave guys, great..."

Madeleine laughed so hard that her body shook, and raised her glass:

"That's absolutely right, Mr. Shelley. That's the one we respect the most. I want to toast you."

The hot and loyal blood flows through the rotten teeth soaked in rotten water, is stirred by the provocative tongue, and flows into the stomach of the scavenger.

'Shameless.'

Rose cursed inwardly.

She came from a muddy background, but no matter what, she respected the gentlemen who went to the battlefield - there were many nobles among them, and there were many of them:

It is not uncommon to see nobles who have fought to the last drop of blood and have no descendants in this country.

They just packed their bags and headed to the battlefield silently, never to return...

Only.

But now, these two obscene, shameless pigs without even a drop of morality dared to comment on the corpses that were shattered in the artillery fire...

It's really shameful!
'Hush.'

Roland pinched her nose—her face and the curls that framed it squeezed as well.

'Hush.'

He turned his face to the side and did not see the pair of emerald eyes floating in the water behind him.

The back of the hand slapped open.

'Hush.'

Yan Lang turned back and revealed a drunken secret to him.

"…Oh, Miss Terry, to be honest, I am indeed proud to have such a father and such a great last name. You may not know that my father has been selected to fill an indispensable position in the alliance."

He showed off.

Madeline was a little surprised. "Private alliance? I heard that those chairs have a lot of power."

The man was pleased to see Madeline looking at him like this. He waved his hand and said modestly, "The Alliance is keen on sharing, just like our country. Of course, I also agree with what your father said: use power where it is needed. Abuse is a disaster."

Madeline narrowed her eyes and smiled: "Yes, my father is the same as your father. He just hopes that more people can live a better life while pursuing the truth..." She changed the subject and continued: "Mr. James Shelley should take a break for a while. The experience of these gentlemen is truly valuable."

Speaking of rest, the man was more distressed: "...He can't stop. I don't know what disease he has recently contracted. He borrowed a broken box from the Alliance Collection Room and locked himself in the room all day long."

He said.

A long box made of some unknown metal with golden patterns all over it.

There was no place to open it, and there was a useless scoreline down the middle - it looked like a solid piece, but when you knocked on it it didn't look like one.

Madeleine was in low spirits.

The other party just said it politely, and she just responded out of politeness.

After a few words, they turned the topic to music and art.

Gold patterns all over.

A long box made of an unknown metal.

fan…

匣。

Roland stroked the soft handle of the staff in his hand.

caress.

Mystery Box…

Rub.

Soon, someone blew into my ear again.