The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 6 Ch.6 Miss Toffee
Three days later in the afternoon, Roland drew a tube of blood and handed it to the housekeeper.

The other party was a little surprised.

"You are becoming more and more adept at it now, Master Collins."

"Isn't this what I should do?" Roland scratched his arm and pretended to be uncomfortable: "You will have to arrange for someone to help me take a bath tonight, Seth. These past two days, my sister has been getting more and more smelly, and I've been feeling uncomfortable as well."

He scratched hard, his nails leaving red marks on his sickly pale forearms.

Seth looked down at the boy, his face showing disgust, but his voice was still gentle:
"Not today, Master Collins."

"But I feel very uncomfortable!"

"Not today." Seth raised the needle, put it to his nose and took a deep sniff, his eyes full of intoxication: "Today, your father and I have something important to do..."

"Perhaps you could have the servants—"

Roland felt the person in front of him bend down and his head quickly approached him.

This reminded him of snakes.

"Master Collins." The butler's voice was cold.

"You should have some respect for the Father of All..."

“Especially on a day of prayer.”

Roland lowered his head and closed his mouth.

"The pain of losing a child is not easy to heal. I, and all the servants, are working hard on this matter. You should understand, right?" His voice suddenly became soft, like a soft tentacle crawling into Roland's ears:
"I heard that you've been staying in Miss Nina's room for too long recently..."

"Could this be the reason why you're itching all over?"

Roland shuddered and took two steps back. "…I'm sorry, sir."

The fire burning in the fireplace no longer provided warmth.

The surroundings became cold and damp.

"I hope you just do what the master tells you to do." Seth clenched the needle and said in a cold tone, "The young lady is becoming less and less conscious due to the torture of the disease. If you become like her, the master may be even more disappointed in you. I guess you don't want to do that either."

"…I see."

"Very good, I will bring the cheese, the steak, and the bread to your room."

"I hope you have a pleasant dinner later."

The light footsteps walked away on the carpet, turned the corner, and closed the door heavily.

Roland stood there quietly.

Until the only sound in the room was the crackling of flames biting the wood.

'So I have a long period of free time.'

The sunlight shifted for a moment, and Roland's call received no response from the servants.

He stood up swiftly, buttoned his clothes, picked up his cane, and walked to the backyard in a black suit.

The chair where he basked in the sun was now turned into a footstool for climbing over the wall.

"May the Father of All Things bless me to grow wings that can fly over the courtyard wall..." The young man put his hands together and prayed devoutly in the sunlight. "Or you can make the courtyard wall shorter..."

Obviously the Father of All would not pay any attention to him.

…………

……

Ophiopogon japonicus, sapphire, oil lamp, cat's whiskers.

Walking onto the street, Roland rolled up his sleeves and brushed off the dust on his arms, while silently repeating the necessary materials in his mind.

The easiest to get is snaketail grass.

There are many herbal medicine shops in the county - most of them are frequented by girls. The most popular one nowadays is the juice of myrtle. It is said that pouring it on the head can make the hair softer and emit a fragrance that attracts men in the sunlight.

It is said.

Roland visited two stores.

The good news is: you can buy 10 grams of the newly arrived snakehead grass for half a crown.

The bad news: he didn't have enough money to buy the gems.

"Pointed pure sapphire, oil from a lamp that shows a woman crying all night, whiskers of a she-cat..."

Roland muttered to himself, found a bench, leaned back and covered his face with his hat.

The ears, like rabbit ears, quietly spread out and stuck out of the hat on both sides. Think of a way, Roland, think of a way.

He heard the men talking about pocket watches, work, and women; he heard the women talking about clothes, hair accessories, and lip makeup: who in the capital had designed what kind of underwear, and what kind of socks they had designed to show off their slender feet.

The newsboys were grumbling about "gossip papers" and were quite decent; the ladies selling paper matches and milk were a bit annoying. When they passed by, their voices were so sharp that they almost pierced Roland's eardrums - he soon guessed that this "loud" way of selling was a deliberate strategy.

Because some people have already paid to have some peace and quiet.

Fortunately, there was no one selling carrots in the "gentleman's area", otherwise Roland probably wouldn't be able to hear anything amid the heavy rolling of wheels and the male voice resonating in his chest - the wheels of the cars that could travel smoothly on this narrow street were all processed to reduce the noise.

Yam said the gentlemen's carriages were even polished.

Too bad he can't see it.

Just then, a very strange conversation came over.

Roland tilted his head and moved his ears.

'I am the first, Mary is the second, and Isa is the third. Do you remember?'

'You are the first, I am the second, and Mary is the third?'

'Damn it! You're the third one!'

'Then which one are you?'

"I'm the first one! Idiot! There are three names in total, can't you remember them all?"

'I just can't remember the order...'

He heard one woman scolding and another woman mumbling explanations.

The voices are all very young.

'Okay, now it's changed. You're the second one, remember, pass it to Mary when you get it.'

'When you get it, give it to Mary, give it to Mary, give it to Mary...'

"You don't know how expensive the new jewelry in this store is. I heard that there are many people waiting to buy them..."

The hem of the skirt passed by Roland, and the conversation between the three people became clear.

This reminded him of the "experiences" that Yam had told him: or in other words, an ancient profession that did not belong here but was active in the world of the rich all year round.

Maybe this is an opportunity.

Roland thought.

I don't have to wait until night to smash the windows of jewelry stores.

He abandoned the plan in his mind and came up with a new one. He stood up with his cane, put on his hat, and walked towards them from a distance.

They went into a jewelry store.

A busy jewelry store.

Roland followed him in - suddenly, he felt like he had entered a beehive. Not only was it crowded, but his nose was filled with a pungent smell.

"Come on, dear!"

"Let me see…"

"Please hand me the gilded earring, thank you."

Roland lowered his head, weaving through the crowd, using his ears to find the three girls. He lowered the brim of his hat, walked to a counter and stood there - as long as he didn't move, it would be difficult for the busy salesperson to notice that a nearly penniless blind man had mixed into the crowd.

At least he dressed like one.

"Let me see that ruby ​​brooch. Yes, what a coincidence! I just need a red one."

He heard the woman trying to make her voice sound sticky and sweet (like the triangular toffee that Yam had given herself last New Year), and after the salesperson handed her the brooch, she began to discuss the design and craftsmanship of the brooch with her two friends until someone on the other side called the salesperson away.

Roland listened to their whispers as they passed the brooch back and forth; then, there was an almost imperceptible movement near him.

Soon, the salesperson was called back by them.

"Let me see that necklace."

Miss Toffee seemed to have completely forgotten about the brooch and ordered the salesperson around in a bossy manner - this also allowed Roland to finally confirm their identities.

Rich people don't talk like that.

If sarcasm and arrogance can be heard by inferiors, how can it be shown that they speak another language?

(End of this chapter)