The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 373: Rose Face
Mr. Matthew Bonham was certain that if this spell worked, then his family would be the last to die.

Countdown to moving out.

West District, how about West District?
I heard that the houses there are all made of whole rocks and painted with beautiful paint; the road surface is as smooth as a table, and the air smells of milk and ink; the men and women there hold morality on their heads, and the polite ones even want to apologize before speaking;
They have plenty of time to spend in theaters, high-end cafes and various small activities. Everyone smells of bath salts and that rare, ingrained perfume.

They never pick up a penny from the ground, and they think twice before even picking up a shilling.

No one was working, and no one mentioned working.

If someone really said this, I'm afraid that in the blink of an eye, countless coins and tickets would be thrown at him:

'Take it, take it quickly! Don't talk about such vulgar work in this elegant, sacred and noble place!'

They held their heads high and even used a golden basin inlaid with jewels and a shining funnel made of melted silver for defecation - and they only used it once and then threw it away somewhere unknown.

They were afraid that people would find these unclean and shameful things, so they hired people to dig many large pits in places that were not easy to find, so that they could throw away the dirty gems, gold and silver every month.

They neither ate nor drank by themselves; there was always someone serving them, using the most beautiful knives and forks. As for how beautiful they were, Matthew Bonham thought that after spending some time in that place filled with the aroma of milk, he would learn to identify what was beautiful.

He would have spots on his buttonholes every morning and evening, and he would speak slower and slower, so slowly that it made people anxious. I almost wanted to ask him how he was in the morning, but by the time he was done it was already noon.

He might get to know more extraordinary people, big people.

Those big shots are not like him. They like expensive things and hate cheap things.

They treat everyone equally, see everything as good, and are polite to everything.

They have to shake their hands and then shake them vigorously a few times to show their sincerity.

They took off their hats, marveled at his strength, and asked where he came from and what he wanted.

Matthew Bonham thought about it and decided to ask: I am from the East District, should you hate me?
He is sure to get a lot of friendly teasing.

Gentlemen and ladies.

They laughed at his clumsiness and said this was not the East District. As long as you stop doing those shady things, behave yourself and enjoy life with us, and be as elegant, gentle, kind and polite as we are, you can live here forever.

People there probably would, but maybe...

Not that good?
They may think about it in their hearts but won’t say it out loud - it would be embarrassing to say it out loud and make people feel inferior.

Matthew Bonham believes that in order to deal with this group of people, one must first find a teacher to learn.

and so…

"Tell me, Michelle."

His buzzing head was now filled with tumbling gems and lace gloves, and could no longer accommodate the rest of the East End - even a little bit of the familiar stink.

“…Our future is here!”

Michelle was a little embarrassed: "My love," she said, holding her husband's face.

“That’s probably not legal.”

"Fuck the law, I want my law!" He growled, tearing off his poor skin like taking off a dirty robe, pulling up his future, and staring at the delicate flesh in the candlelight:
"I am one of the smartest people in the world, you know. I just need an opportunity... just one..."

Michelle bit his lip. If it were a few days ago, Matthew Bonham would have said, "I'm not starving you." Now, he just wanted to yell and wake up everyone sleeping around him:
Come and see! You poor toes who will never see me again! I'm leaving!

But he is a smart man, so he knows that he cannot make it public now.

"…How, Michelle."

He raised his shoulders and craned his neck like a spy.

The wife sighed, got out of bed, first comforted the three restless children, then went to the door and brought in a basket.

It was filled with fresh rose petals.

Matthew Bonham clapped his hands!
"I knew it! I was wondering why there was a basket at home yesterday! So! So here is the key!"

He watched his wife put down the flower basket, then found a brazier and dragged it to the bed with difficulty.

The three children lay under the quilt and peeked.

"Honey... this is not legal..."

"Come! Make me illegal!" There was fire burning in Matthew's eyes. The fire did not come from the candle, but from a solemnity that he had never had before but that everyone should have.

His sleeping subjects welcomed the king who was about to take power with snoring and shouting at midnight.

"Let me rot in a gem..."

He murmured as he stared at the pot of blazing charcoal fire, then stretched out his hand and asked his wife to put on a silver bracelet for him - a gift for his wife that cost him half a month's salary.

then.

He was given a handful of roses.

"Read it as I say, Matthew, my love." I don't know if it was an illusion, or because I had become younger - the wife with her arms open in the firelight looked so holy, so...

Just like the saint with her back against the cross.

He had never seen a true saint, but if Matthew were to say, she must be purer than a saint now, and more lovable...

'Withered flesh, eternal sweetness.'

'Someone is young again...'

A blade knife slit his wrist.

As the blood was spilled and the bracelet passed through the thick smoke above, Matthew Bonham felt himself being "filled" - something was implanted in his body like a beard-like seed, with long, thin beards thinner than hair spreading out in his flesh and blood, in his soul...

It reminded him of the sea. He was the tide of that ocean.

It beats again and again, rising, receding, rising again, receding again...

All his energy was spent on following the tide that obsessed him. The sea urchins next to each other shrank, catering to the increasingly violent tides and offering their red or white blood.

involuntarily.

Matthew Bonham feels like...

Withered.

"…Michelle?"

He found that his wife was looking at him in an increasingly strange way.

It's like looking at a dog with wings.

"rice…"

His throat also withered, like the shrunken root of a burnt rose before it falls.

The blood flowed more and more, gushing out from his wrists and waist like an unstoppable waterfall.

He froze in place, feeling himself flowing continuously.

He flows like a river.

"Michel..."

He lost weight.

Michelle gave a strange smile, stood up, walked around him and opened the door.

Some women wearing veils filed in, laughing wantonly: "Michelle, you are so lucky."

"That's not difficult."

Michelle laughed. She didn't look like the woman Matthew knew, his former wife, the mother of his children, the hardworking, shrewd and mercenary Bonham - she seemed to have been skinned and glued onto another person's flesh and blood.

"Thanks…"

The corners of her mouth curved in an inhuman arc, and she gently took the bracelet off those five dry branch-like fingers.

A bracelet with a bright luster.

Then, he put it on his hand.

Suddenly, she seemed younger.

Matthew Bonham shuddered, his legs went limp, and he fell to the floor.

A crisp breaking sound.

His leg was broken.

Or waist.

He is like a 200-year-old man, so fragile that only his bones remain in history for future generations to listen to their wailing.

He volunteered.

Voluntarily sucked dry.

"Isn't it? You volunteered, my dear husband."

Michelle's eyes were filled with the flame of youth: "It's called 'Rose Face'."

She breathed a pleasant scent and whispered softly in his ear.

"A very good...invisibility technique."

"look."

"I'm reborn..."

Several women stared at him with smiles, and gradually, in Matthew's horrified gaze, they all turned their heads towards the bed.

"No..." Matthew shouted silently.

Those three shivering children.

The old-fashioned round mirror on the cupboard reflected a group of hungry eyes.

This red night is awesome.

……

"Name": Rose Face
Type: Invisibility
[Description] Throw fresh rose petals into the brazier to burn, sprinkle with the user's blood (or other things), and use the bracelet to pass through the smoke above.

Part of the user's charm and life will be transferred to the bracelet (or all of it).

The wearer of the bracelet feels refreshed and rejuvenated (effect decays over time).

'Now.'

"I can finally breathe a sigh of relief..."

'Thank you, my love.'

(End of this chapter)