The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 378 Ch.377 People I Met
Have a sweet dream, like an endless river of honey.

Girls you never get tired of watching.

A mountain of gold pounds.

The tree is laden with sweet fruit that brings eternal life.

The dream was beautiful, but the servants were ruthless - for example, when there was a knock on the door in the early morning, Roland always wanted to send her to the dirtiest and most tiring job.

"I just took office today. Forgive her. I have to forgive her..."

"Or maybe you can sleep a little longer... sleep for ten seconds... just... ten seconds..."

six thirty.

While he was still mumbling in bed with sleepy eyes and messy hair, the maid Halida had already started her day's work.

She lit the fireplace, cleaned the carpet, wiped the furniture in the dining room twice, and prepared the clothes the master would wear today - all of the above work would be completed before Roland woke up completely.

"I was thinking of sending you to clean the stables..."

The young man, scratching his messy hair, came down from upstairs in his soft-soled indoor shoes, muttering to himself.

The dark-skinned maid was serving beside him, smiling, wiping her master's face with lukewarm water, washing him, and helping him to the ceramic toilet.

When everything was over, he had to busy himself with other servants to set the table, pour coffee, and adjust the brightness of the gas lamps and the temperature of the fireplace flames.

To supervise the silence of servants while his master dined—whether they were serving in the dining-room or not.

After breakfast, the host was dressed and the coachman was waiting at the door.

Only then could the maid breathe a sigh of relief.

"You, you today..."

"You're so pretty, I know." Roland stroked the young maid's loose hair, and there was a little more moisture between the strands of hair. "Sorry, Halida, I was just joking. I probably can't live without you for the rest of my life."

The taciturn maid blushed and bowed with the other servants.

The carriage was not big, but the compartment was warm enough.

A heated, flannel-wrapped iron plate had been placed inside early, and there were thick hand-woven blankets on the walls and under the feet. A long ivory-colored warm blanket to cover the legs was draped over the armrests next to the seats.

The small dining table was covered with a dark blue cloth, on which were today's fresh fruit and bread, two small pieces of cheese, a lighter, an ashtray, and a few books stacked up that the owner of the car might not even read.

The wheels rolled slowly forward, and Roland put away his cane and took off his hat.

The city of London was filled with thick fog in the early morning. All kinds of horse hooves and wheels were heard passing through the fog - the public ones creaked, and the horses' hooves were as lazy and loose as the driver.

But private carriages and individually hired coachmen like Roland's are full of energy and spirit.

"Hospital, hospital, hospital..."

He smoked a cigar and ate two small tomatoes until he was really bored. He drew aside the blue floral curtains and looked out the window:

They seemed to be almost there.

The suburbs away from the city are a bit desolate - it’s not good or bad, but at least the air smells much more pleasant.

He saw a sign.

Written on it in strange, snake-like writing:

……

"The painted pattern is a pattern."

"What moves will move."

"Snake or blade? Blood or brains?"

"The naughty girl wants to talk to you."

"Everyone has scars inside."

"Welcome."

……

The dead branches beside the road twisted in some strange way in the mist. They stretched out their slender hands, as if to hook or wave at Mr. Golden Eyes in the carriage:

'You are welcome.'

The oil-soaked shaft performed well until the pitted land ruined its long-standing reputation.

Roland heard the noise of the axles.

The carriage jolted a few times.

Stop by the roadside.

Roland picked up his cane, pushed open the car door and got out.

The expensive leather shoes immediately sank into the mud: there was a crow standing on the branch, or a snake coiled. Roland was not sure, but he saw another notice:
……

“The hospital is a church.”

“The church is a hospital.”

"More and less, best and worst."

“Not the cross, not the One.”

"Everyone's heart is full of holes."

"Welcome."

…Roland looked forward along the sign: the building was looming in the mist.

They were two connected, towering, twisted, crimson structures: they were made of some seamless substance, perhaps stone, perhaps flesh and blood.

In the beautiful, almost unmanufactured rose window, the multi-colored glass created a pattern:

A lady with a snake in her right hand and a key in her left hand.

The key hung down from a thin string and happened to be an inverted golden cross.

The trodden path twisted into two, and in front of Roland, there were two roughly similar doors leading to the building:

One is obviously a church, and the other is a hospital with a wooden sign of scissors and a saw hanging on it.

He is a doctor.

Roland adjusted his tie and looked back at the sign.

'The hospital is the church and the church is the hospital.'

The end of the stick rubbed a few times in the rotten mud, and after hesitating for a moment, the new doctor stepped onto a path: the path leading to the church.

crunch--

The arched door was not locked.

Roland knocked a few times, and seeing no response, he gently pushed open a crack.

In the darkness, a pair of eyes met his gaze quietly.

The people outside the door were startled.

Green eyes.

"I almost hit you!" Roland shouted and took two steps back quickly until the curly hair emerged from the darkness.

She was slender and agile, just like Roland's initial negative impression of her:

A mouse scurrying about in the darkness, or perhaps a spindly, green-eyed weasel.

She said nothing, just stared at Roland and opened the door.

Came out from the darkness.

She was wearing trousers, which were rarely worn by women, with a white shirt tucked into her trousers and a thin lace embroidered on the collar.

His hair was a little messy and there was a bit of dust on his face.

“…Where is this?”

She asked.

Roland laughed angrily: "This is a hospital and a church. As an assistant, you even ruin your own workplace——"

Stopped abruptly.

and many more.

Roland's hair stood on end, and he immediately raised his head:

It is neither day nor night.

There was only a full blood moon in the sky.

Muddy swamp.

Eerie dead branches in the thick fog.

Churches and hospitals in the desert.

Signboard.

and also…

The silver ring on his little finger.

Roland tapped twice with his fingertips.

That is the sound of wood.

"radish…"

He narrowed his eyes, carefully identifying the woman in front of him from stranger to familiar. The invisible veil covering her face melted away, revealing the original soul of the thief.

Roland took a deep breath.

"Rose."

he is.

"…What?" The curly-haired girl was still stunned. "Me?"

"If you don't realize it, I'm going to laugh at you for the rest of the year - you should have told me about your anchor a long time ago."

Roland muttered, "I really thought I was a doctor... How come a maid is... But it's really nice to have someone to serve me. My uncle always likes to knock on the door when I sleep in..."

He took a step forward and lowered his head.

"Time to wake up."

"Lillian Rose Vansittart."

(End of this chapter)