The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 40 Ch.40 Chloe's House
Mr. William Cordone's shoe shop was reborn.

That's what happened.

Ever since Roland gave him the blueprints, and the finished product was put on and shown to the ladies, the outcome was doomed.

'Boots? Oh, this style, made by Mr. Cordoni.'

Roland told them casually.

"I heard that Mr. Cordoni's ancestors were shoemakers who specialized in serving the nobility, and these are the styles that were kept in the bottom of the box."

'Of course, we wear not only style, but also history.'

The man, as strong as a bear, even brought his little princess to express his gratitude. He was particularly honest and brought two bottles of wine, a brand new black lacquered gentleman's cane with a layer of silver frost on the top, and a bag of honey candies.

From the gift, Roland knew that the shoemaker had made a lot of money by doing this favor.

He hung the cane on the wall.

——'If you could focus on yourself, you wouldn't be running around with that black crow every day.'

Uncle still thought that Roland was getting paid by "selling his body" and hanging out with Enid, a woman with a bad reputation, little dowry, and who was about to get old and lose her beauty.

This was an act of depravity, and he was not optimistic about Roland's future.

Although he also said that Rolando should get in touch with those noble ladies...

Do these two conflict?

"The young and beautiful Roland Collins~"

"He is the little angel of the East End!"

"Oh~ Beautiful Collins~"

"Wet Collins~"
-
Please press your upper lip against your lower lip and do not separate them within an hour.

"You look so cute when you can't do anything to me."

Roland stared.

The words in sight suddenly disappeared.

shield.

His new skills.

It can prevent me from being disturbed by something and losing sleep for half the night.

"Perhaps Apprentice Roland has it."

His quiet mumbling to himself drew questions from those around him.

"Roland?"

On the carriage.

He and Fernandez.

Yesterday, someone went to the police station to report that there were always strange noises at home every night (the reporter swore that it was definitely not a mouse).

The Public Security Bureau reported the matter to the Supervisory Bureau.

So, this boring task fell into the hands of Roland and Fernandez.

Coincidentally, Roland knew the person who reported the case...

Mrs.

Mr. Mince Croy's wife, Cherie Croy.

The young lady who often travelled to the store with other ladies to buy flower petals.

The carriages equipped with silent reeds were quiet and steady, and like other tall horses, they strode into the West End with their heads held high - and so did the coachmen.

When they made eye contact in the flow of traffic, they could see the same pride in each other's eyes, and the driver from the Inquisition seemed out of place among them.

He had a stern face and looked straight ahead.

'Pah! Pretend!'

The drivers were very disdainful of his behavior, as he appeared calm on the outside but was actually excited on the inside.

The carriage entered the West End and its destination was adjacent to Marylebone Park.

Walking through the flower-filled streets, you will see crowded department stores and high-end clothing shops, and private residences.

Not sure if it was an illusion, but Roland even felt that the air in the West District was a lot fresher.

The noise was far away from my ears and the whole area was exceptionally quiet.

Mr. Chloe's home is nearby.

"In the earlier years, ordinary people were not allowed to enter here."

Fernandez teased. Even so, Roland still keenly caught the envy in his eyes.

"I thought you lived here, too."

Roland joked.

"I really do, Roland."

Fernandez did not hide his desire. He shrugged, put his hands on the hood, and looked around. "Do you know how much a house costs? The corresponding status - an executive is not qualified."

"Including hiring maids, errand boys, housekeepers, coachmen, and cooks, it would cost at least three or four hundred pounds a year - and that's if I forget to include the gardener and the butler."

Fernandez frowned and counted on his fingers for Roland: "Decoration, daily expenses, cocktail parties and salons, gifts, travel, hunting, various festivals..."

"Roland, living here is not just about buying a bed and lying down."

Three or four hundred pounds a year... Roland grinned.

This is too much.

"many?"

Fernandez shook his head. "This is the minimum. You know, the highest standard is 24 servants. Only wealthy businessmen or bankers who earn thousands or tens of thousands of pounds a year can have such a lavish life."

For the first time, Roland felt that the pound he received every week was nothing.

"It wasn't a big deal."

Fernandez pointed to the shops with polished windows.

"You walk around here once, no, not even half a circle, and your monthly salary is gone."

He pinched his fingers, pointing at the cigars or long cigarettes held by the men: "When you become a formal ceremonial attendant, your weekly salary will be increased to three pounds. At my level, it is five pounds - but if you want to live here, you have to wait until your next life."

Roland was very surprised by Fernandez's words.

It's not the extravagant life he talked about, but the one who said these words...

Fernandez de Vincenzo himself.

This well-behaved, seemingly simple-minded ritual master, this ritual master who knows everything about upper-class life, seems...

There is another side.

"Although the behavior of those vultures is despicable, I have to say that if you want to live a comfortable life..."

Fernandez licked his dry lips and lowered his voice in a furtive manner: "Roland, you must remember to learn from this in the future. One day it will be your turn to do it."

Roland didn't respond.

He was born in hell, so he would not blame a person for his desire for luxury.

Rather, it was with this conversation that Fernandez became three-dimensional in his mind—more like a living person, rather than a machine that hated cultists and pursued justice.

In terms of position, Enid should be the highest ranked, right?

Her weekly salary should be more than ten pounds, right?

"Lord Enid?"

Fernandez looked odd.

"Roland, do you know what the title of Chief Judge means?"

He seemed to be laughing at Roland's ignorance, with the corners of his mouth curled up: "Let me put it this way, if Lady Enid agrees, there are many people who are willing to offer the best mansion here, including a whole team of well-trained servants, and pay them a high salary every year."

Roland had never heard Enid say this before.

"If you can embark on the path of the Holy Flame, perhaps Lady Enid's future will be your future..."

It sounds great.

But Ms. Enid looked so young.

Roland thought that only old men could hold such a powerful title as Judge.

What level of ritualist is she?
When did you become a ritualist?
How long did it take?

Fernandez glanced at Roland, deliberately ignored the question, rubbed his forehead, and raised his hand to ring the bell.

"Here we are."

The carriage stopped in front of a 'small manor', with the door facing the garden.

There is no constant stench of feces drilling into your nose here.

“Welcome to the new world.”

Fernandez grunted, arranged for the driver, and led Roland out of the car.

The road under their feet was also paved with asphalt mixed with gravel, but it was much smoother than the highway.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the flowers are fragrant.

very nice.

The two stood at the door for a while.

After the notification, more than ten minutes later, Chloe and his wife finally arrived.

The two of them were dressed as if they were going to attend a salon:

The man's three-piece suit was neatly tailored, he wore a top hat and shiny leather shoes.

The ladies also put on layer upon layer of camel-colored long skirts, the hems of which were sewn with patterns that were not easily noticed on normal days and were wrapped with sequins, which now sparkled as the women swayed their skirts.

"Good day, Mr. De Winson."

Mince Chloe has a sharp face.

Pointed chin, pointed nose, and pointed eyes.

Matching the pair of pointed leather shoes on his feet, it looks like a dry, sharpened, slender fruit knife.

His smile was like a routine, neither too close nor too far, and there was nothing wrong with it.

"Good day, my lord."

Fernandez introduced him to Roland.

On the other side, Cherry Chloe was staring at Roland intently.

(End of this chapter)