The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 365 Ch.364 Feasting
Warm living room.

dark night.

The body on the bed.

Two people sitting opposite each other.

John Shelley believed he had fallen into the trap of a madman - yes, a madman.

This Madeline Terry is a fucking lunatic.

She is the spoiled one.

At least when he was called Shelley, he never treated anyone like this - he might be a little arrogant, and he used money to do a lot of things that others didn't think were appropriate, maybe he whipped servants and forced someone's daughter to buy him, but...

He has never killed anyone.

With your own hands, or seeing with your own eyes someone strangle a living person like a dog.

Especially since she was with me just a few minutes ago...

"You're crazy, Madeline."

John took out his pipe from his tweed bag tremblingly, unscrewed the glass jar with trembling hands, crushed a piece of tobacco, and pecked it all into the bowl with his bird-like beak.

He needed something to calm himself down.

Never mind, John Shelley.

It's ok.

Just a whore.

If you die, you will die.

What's more, I didn't kill her myself.

Madeleine Terrell did it.

I can say this to the police, I can say this to anybody.

——No, even if I killed her, it can be said that she attacked me first and she coveted the wealth on me.

It's ok.

It's not a big deal.

I’m Shelley.

John Shelley.

The man, whose soul and body were not of the same age, took a full eight minutes to stuff the brown tobacco into the bowl and compact it.

Light a match.

"call…"

Tobacco can calm people down.

It was also at this time that he finally got rid of the alcohol and the stiffness that made him unable to stand up, got rid of his desire for great power, and really used his brain to think about what the madwoman in front of him - what she was going to do.

and many more.

John Shelley suddenly realized that this might be a stupid coincidence.

Madeleine Terry may be crazy, but she is no fool.

Her devotion to him must be rewarded.

So, what’s the payoff?
That box.

——Mystery box.

right?
The bait his father was about to throw out, little did Madeline know that it would have been hers—even if she had done nothing.

right?
"what would you like."

He asked, waiting for the answer that was already in his heart.

In the firelight, half of the woman's face was hidden in the shadows, revealing two rows of neat teeth and bright red gums in the dim light.

Her smile doesn't look real.

Instead, there are the ceramic dolls in the glass cabinets on the street that only party and revel at night.

"I want a box, the one you mentioned."

as predicted.

When she said this, John Shelley felt relieved.

Strangely enough, he was at peace with it.

If something that should have been thrown away can still be sold for a good price...

No savvy businessman would say no.

"So, you went around in circles and tempted me to commit a crime, just to get a piece of junk." Little Shelley pretended to be dissatisfied, glanced at the cooled flesh and blood on the bed, and endured the chill running up from the soles of his feet.

madman.

"You are wrong, John. I did not tempt you to commit a crime."

Madeleine's face emerged from the shadows, pale.

"I committed a crime." The smile on her face continued to spread, and her eyeballs almost fell out of their sockets: "I killed this woman... John."

"What is your crime?"

she says.

"I just want to make a deal with you."

"You give me what I want, and I give you what you want... From our perspective, it shouldn't be a loss, right?"

At least I don't suffer any loss.

John Shelley said this in his heart.

If the puzzle box could really be exchanged for a key to open the door to truth...

why not?
My father just said that a group of people were eyeing the box, but they didn't sound very urgent - he guessed that even if there were really some cultists eyeing the box, they would not come to his door so quickly and recklessly.

His last name was Shelley.

This is the base camp of the Holy Cross.

What's more: he could give the mystery box to Madeline first, and then let her fulfill the agreement - even if she went back on her word, the box was already in her hands.

Anyway, I have completed the task.

is not it?
The cultist could never find him.

"I can steal what you want from my father." He emphasized the word "steal" and made an unwilling expression on his face, and deliberately said: "This is not a trivial matter. How can you guarantee that you will fulfill the agreement later?" Madeline smiled and moved the candlestick on the table in front of her.

"Madeline?"

"I've paid what I owed, John." She hid behind some candles, so that the man couldn't see her face.

"what?"

"I said, I have fulfilled part of it."

This vague riddle was really annoying: he had been with her for the past few days, and apart from eating and drinking, he had been performing the so-called "ritual" - until today, when someone died, she told him...

Is this all a scam?

He felt like a real idiot, being played around by her - and now there was a dead body on the bed.

"What are you doing?!"

"Miss Terry, I must remind you who you are talking to."

Yet Madeleine Terry kept repeating the same words:

“I have already fulfilled part of it.”

Bang!
John Shelley slammed the table in anger, kicked away the wooden chair, and stood up suddenly.

He stared down at the shadow behind the fire, his anger roaring past like a substance—

then.

Blow out the candle.

Everything came to an abrupt end.

if.

John Shelley would not have been so frightened if the body on the bed behind him had quietly sat up...

he.

He just...

Extinguished the candle?
Just like before?

Madeline pinched the charred candle wick, pulled out a candle, and exposed her face like a prisoner escaping from prison. She crawled out, with her fragile neck hanging on the sharp spikes of the candlestick, facing the panicked man.

"See, I told you."

“I have fulfilled part of it.”

She stood up slowly, walked around the long table, and placed her hands on the man's shoulders, applying gentle force.

Pushed him back into the chair.

"I paid for the box first, Mr. Shelley. I'm a perfect customer for a businessman, aren't I?" She bent over him like a snake, coiling around him.

Hands, hair, teeth, breath.

Climbing all over him.

"Next, you have to fulfill your promise and hand over the box to me..."

John Shelley felt itchy all over.

It's very itchy.

“…I’ll steal it for you.”

"Oh, I believe you are a man of your word." Madeline rested her chin on his shoulder. "Deal?"

John Shelley moved his arm and felt a little uncomfortable. "Okay...wait, about power...that's it?"

If only to put out the candles.

What's the use?

He wanted something extraordinary, something beyond mortal man, something that could cause fire or thunder, something that could shatter the earth, or even travel miles in the blink of an eye.

He must be able to tame lions and make those pretentious fools bow their heads and kneel down.

He couldn't say exactly what he wanted.

But extinguishing the candles is clearly not enough.

——Everyone says that they know when to stop.

No one admits to being truly greedy.

But that's greed.

John Shelley thought... not enough.

"Perhaps, you can tell me the ritual, the whole thing." He said to himself, "The whole ritual, in exchange for the box, how about that?"

A strange look came over Madeline's face.

She pinched the man's chin and turned his face towards the bed.

"Am I not telling you the process of the ceremony now?"

"John."

she says.

"Enjoy your meal, John."

"Enjoy your meal."

The extinguished fire left the room with only one source of light.

That fireplace near the wide bed.

A corpse was being kept warm, waiting for the bell to ring for dinner.

"…Are you kidding me? Are you crazy?"

John Shelley couldn't stand this crazy woman anymore. He pushed her away, picked up the pipe on the table, and stood up. "Do you know what you are talking about?! You implied that I am a cannibal?!"

Madeline smoothed her hair.

"Are you not enjoying your meals these days?"

She looked at the anger that was just floating on the surface, and there was a bit more pity in her expression.

John Shelley vomited.

Spit on himself.

Mixed with gastric juice, he vomited out a section of undigested "beef intestine" from dinner.

(End of this chapter)