The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 63 Two Cats
Beatrice's room is on the second floor.

To Randolph's regret, when he and Roland entered the room together, the girl looked at Roland first.

"My father and I are too busy and are rarely at home."

Roland detected a sour taste of self-consolation in the words.

Beatrice Taylor.

She was sitting at the easel.

There is no paintbrush, the paint is dipped with fingers and applied to the canvas.

The window was open, and the sunlight shone on her golden hair and her colorfully painted face.

The vase on the table was empty.

She looked at Roland, her eyes lighting up for a moment.

"good afternoon!"

"It's morning now, Betty." Randolph reminded softly, and kept saying "slow down, slow down" - the girl almost jumped off the drawing chair, walked to Roland in three or two steps, suddenly remembered something, turned around and ran back.

——Took out a mother-of-pearl hairpin from the jewelry box.

The paint stained her blonde hair and left a few tiny marks on the box.

She smoothed her hair, put on a hairpin, and then walked forward carrying her intricate and colorful (originally pink) house skirt.

Said hello.

"Good afternoon, Roland!"

Randolph glanced at Roland and found that he looked normal before reminding his sister, "It's morning now."

"Theresa said that we can only paint in the afternoons."

That’s why I said it was afternoon.

"You forgot, I told Theresa that you were allowed to paint in the morning." Randolph didn't mind the oil paint at all. He held her hand and looked at it again and again, fearing that she would be hurt by the oil painting knife or something.

Then he raised his hand and tucked the girl's untied hair behind her ears.

"It's time for lunch, dear."

Randolph's eyes were full of doting, and he said softly, "Are you almost done?" He leaned down and looked at the canvas.

There is a crooked person drawn on it.

No nose or mouth.

Wearing a black trench coat, black hair, golden eyes, and carrying a cane.

Behind me were layers of grayish-white fog.

in this way…

familiar person.

Randolph: ...

The look at Roland was somewhat complicated.

To be honest, he really expected that the picture showed his 'brother'.

"He is my brother, but not my biological brother."

He wanted to talk to his sister for a while, but a servant came in from behind the door and whispered something in his ear.

He glanced at Roland and hesitated: "...I have to excuse myself for a while, Roland. You can go to the side hall downstairs -"

"I'll just stay here with Miss Taylor, Randolph."

Roland tilted his head and asked, "Can I?"

"Of course, of course!" Randolph looked very happy.

He personally rolled up Roland's sleeves, carried a chair for him, and ordered someone to serve tea and cakes before hurriedly going downstairs with the servants.

He and Beatrice were the only ones left in the room.

"Roland."

Beatrice opened her eyes wide and tugged at her pink skirt with green and purple patches.

"Roland."

"Yes, Miss Taylor. My name is Roland, Roland Collins."

She stared at Roland's eyes for a long time, then took a step back, as if she was appreciating a painting.

"Roland."

"Yes, Miss Taylor." Roland responded softly, "I'm right here."

She pointed to the easel behind her: "Roland."

“Is that me?”

"It's Roland."

She watched Roland as he rose from his chair without his cane and walked to his easel.

"Eye?"

Roland put his finger to his lips and blinked at her: "Sometimes, you can see it."

"secret?"

"It's our secret."

Beatrice understood and nodded vigorously: "Keep it a secret."

Roland bowed: "Thank you."

"I feel like you're fooling fools."
-
She looked a lot like Brenda when she was a child.

"What the hell is that?"
-
The girl in the workhouse. Roland thought of the letter that Yam had written to him: the girl who often asked about his whereabouts in the letter was named Brenda.

"Oh, your workhouse not only raises blind people, but also fools?"

I mean 'sort of', and, well, I'm not blind.

"Without me you can't see anything."
-
Eyes are eyes, and you are you.

"It's so sad that my little Roland has started to dislike me."

The crooked 'Roland' on the canvas remained standing, and a line of pale small words jumped on his side:

"May Roland Collins grow up to be like this in the future."

Roland bent over to look, and suddenly, he felt a little cold on his face.

Look back.

Beatrice raised her index finger and smeared it on his face.

"Miss Taylor?"

The girl pointed at her own face, then at Roland: "So beautiful!"

Roland straightened up.

There was a streak of golden paint on the left cheek.

Beatrice looked at Roland timidly, who remained silent, and retracted her hand and looked away.

She was a little scared and had some unrealistic expectations.

"Is this more beautiful than before?"

The girl pursed her lips and nodded, still not daring to look up at him.

Roland smiled.

Of course he would respond to her expectations.

…………

……

When the maid Theresa entered the room, she saw this scene:
Master Randolph's pretty friend sat on a chair, and the young lady stood before her, with one hand raised and the other holding the palette.

Two people...

Like a cat that rolled in a rainbow—

In addition to the complex fur color on its body, it also insists on adding more colors to itself.

The middle-aged maid, who was severely traumatized physically and mentally, immediately covered her chest, took two deep breaths, took a half step back, and held onto the door frame shakily.

“… Beatrice! What did you do to your guests! Father of All! Sir, how could you—”

The excited girl was startled and quickly hid behind Roland. When she found that her whole body was still exposed, she raised the palette to try to cover her head.

Then the paint on the palette got all over my face.

Roland crossed his legs, dangling on the toes of his shoes, twisted his body, tilted his head back rudely, and barely managed a greeting.

"Hello, excuse my rudeness, I'm really busy right now."

Theresa: ...

This…

Is this to find a 'kindred spirit' for Beatrice?
It's no wonder Theresa was complaining in her heart, she was of the same generation as Randolph's father, Bellos.

It can be said that she watched Randolph and Beatrice grow up. At the same time, she knew too well how Bellos and Randolph's friends talked about Beatrice privately and even publicly.

She doesn't like them.

Fortunately, little Taylor is sensible.

He knew that she was his sister, sharing the same blood as him, and he loved her.

Holy Father bless you.

But this...

What's the matter with this Mr. Collins?

He is indeed a kind person, and I heard that he saved the young lady, but this...

This, isn't it a bit too much...

The lady doesn't need a 'kindred spirit'.

"you…"

The old woman hesitated as she twisted her white apron with her two rough and powerful hands...

Then add a wrench to the little symbol hanging on her head.

"???"

Roland tightened his lips and nodded solemnly: "Miss Taylor and I are discussing the techniques of oil painting."

“Yes, yes… yes…”

The old maid stammered and responded several times, then immediately reacted, opened the door and returned to the corridor:
"Lei! Where have you been again?!"

She yelled twice, and a young and slim maid 'floated' in.

She wore the same black skirt, white apron and headscarf. She had a high nose bridge and thin eyebrows. Her brown hair was combed up, her face was like an oval, and her eyes were watery and swept in.

The curvy girl responded in a low voice:
"Theresa."

"Clean up the room... Look at the young lady's face. I'll get someone to boil some water..." The woman was obviously not very satisfied with the new servant and pushed her to be more efficient: "Don't break the painting supplies!"

After she gave the order, she smiled and bowed, asking Roland to wait for a moment. She rolled up her sleeves and walked downstairs quickly and lightly.

(End of this chapter)