The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 65: Angry Beatrice Taylor

The only sound in the restaurant was the scraping of knives and forks against plates.

It's not even as loud as chewing.

The Taylor family is not aristocratic family, so the guests they entertain today do not have to strictly follow the dining order.

Without ordering appetizers, appetizers or main courses, the servant brought out a large plate of browned grilled fish, several portions of sizzling steaks, two bowls of avocado and tomato salad, a braised chicken, a dish of seafood chowder and a bottle of cabernet wine.

Of course, you don't have to be too strict about dining etiquette.

After a moment of silence, Randolph Taylor was the first to break the silence.

"Please feel free, Roland."

"I was a bit rushed today, and I don't know if what I prepared is to your taste."

"This is rich enough." Roland praised sincerely.

The servants present could not help but be curious, as if wondering how a blind man could accurately distinguish between a knife and fork and point them at the food.

Then Randolph waved them away, leaving only the middle-aged maid named Theresa.

Beatrice and her brother sat at one end, and Roland sat at the other, facing them.

Randolph raised his glass.

"To you, Roland Collins, friend of the Taylors, and benefactor of my sister."

Roland raised his glass and took a sip. "Cheers to you, my good friend and brother."

Randolph took a big sip without any courtesy, looked at his greasy-faced sister who was eating with a doting look, then turned to Roland and said, "My father travels to Porti (port) in Götshola every year, and he has been gone for half a month."

He was worried that Roland would think he was being inadequate.

"When he comes back, I hope to invite you to visit me again."

"We are friends now, Randolph." Roland stroked the glass.

As they spoke, the servants brought in some hot pies and cream pudding.

"Yeah, we are friends."

Randolph laughed heartily when he heard this: "I believe you have also had concerns, that sharp-tongued Mrs. Chloe - ah, yes, I won't talk about her good or bad. I want to tell you, Roland, I am a good brother, I don't ask my sister to go to someone's house to suffer."

He glanced at Beatrice, and seeing that the girl had no reaction, he raised his eyebrows at Roland helplessly.

"I ask nothing more than friendship from a promising executive."

Roland certainly understood this hint.

"I think, in addition to friendship, I also have nothing to ask of Randolph Taylor - of course, 'No one knows whether it will rain tomorrow'. I respect the choice of fate, and I hope fate respects my choice."

Roland tried to imitate the way he did, holding the wine glass with both hands and shaking it gently, but after he said this, the restaurant fell silent.

Except for the sound of Beatrice chewing.

Randolph squinted his eyes and observed Roland carefully, and the muscles on the sides of his nose and face drooped.

He was gloomy for a moment, like a fox with sharp teeth, crawling in the grass waiting for an opportunity to hunt.

"What's wrong? I can't imitate him?" Roland tilted his head and stared at the steak in front of him. "I learned this from Madam Chloe's salon. Is there something wrong with it?"

He swirled the wine glass again.

Randolph stared at Roland and said nothing for nearly twenty seconds.

If he heard correctly, Roland meant...

Randolph suddenly grinned.

The haze in his eyes completely dissipated.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met, Roland," he repeated. "Anyone."

"That's 'anyone's' fault, not mine." Roland put the steak he had chosen on the plate, cut it lightly with the blade of the knife, divided it into small pieces, and picked a piece to put into his mouth.

Pause:

"It's not Beatrice Taylor's fault either."

Those amber eyes stared straight into nothingness, yet were extremely firm.

The curve of Randolph's mouth grew wider and wider.

He suddenly started laughing in an extremely impolite and even unbridled way, and the sound echoed in the restaurant.

"Yes, yes! Absolutely! You are right!"

Randolph didn't know how to praise the handsome and elegant precious person opposite him.

Rather than praising his appearance, it is better to praise his clear and sincere heart.

"These words are as beautiful and pure as the gift you gave Betty!"

Roland didn't want to talk more about this matter.

As for his views on some things, he had long known that they were not "pure" enough - his thoughts "polluted" by Miss Nina always made him say shocking things.

This is sometimes good and sometimes bad.

It will cause trouble.

"So, what can I do for my friend? Randolph, I'm just an executive officer."

Randolph slowly wiped his mouth and put down the towel.

"nothing."

This was his answer to Roland.

"I don't need my friends to frame my competitors for me, using 'harboring cultists' or 'performing illegal rituals' to hit those doomed losers; I also don't need to make friends with those hiding guys through you, and then harm others with curses or bones."

"The Taylor family officially rose to prominence in my grandfather's generation. Our ancestors were not prominent, and they all worked hard on their own. I can defeat the Taylor family's enemies within the rules."

"Roland, I just need you to promise that if someone uses dishonorable means against me or my family, you will stand up."

“Especially family.”

That's what Randolph Taylor wanted.

Compared to the detectives from the Inspectorate, the Inquisition's executive officers have more say in matters of cultists. "No problem."

Roland readily agreed.

"Then let's start today."

As Randolph was puzzled, Roland gently put down his knife and fork.

"I have to confess something to you, Randolph. Could you please call the other servants over?"

Randolph didn't know what Roland meant, but he still did as he asked, winked at Theresa, and called most of the servants in the house over.

There weren't many servants, at least not as many as Chloe's.

After they all stood up, Roland said to Randolph with a serious expression: "My friend, I think you have to speak for me."

These words made Beatrice, who was working hard on the steak, suddenly raise her head.

Randolph was stunned and quickly replied: "Roland, is there anything wrong with the hospitality——"

"No. I heard that something was lost," Roland said seriously, "I just came here as a guest today and encountered this kind of thing—"

Hearing this, Randolph's frown relaxed at once.

It turned out to be the case.

"Maybe it wasn't today, maybe he lost it in a carriage, or at a banquet. This is too common."

"But I know what you mean, Roland."

"A gentleman should not be subject to the gossip of others."

The shrewd heir was naturally aware of the hidden meaning.

Just like the standard answer "The weather is nice", when the other party says this, then, as the host, you should use words such as "affirmative" and "no doubt" to show your attitude in public.

In other words, if Randolph really was evasive, he was making it clear: You are not welcome here.

No fool would say that.

It's like a fixed rule, a kind of etiquette that everyone knows.

"Well, well--if anybody ever doubts Roland Collins, let him doubt Randolph Taylor first!"

Randolph made a joke.

This was not the first or second time that Betty had lost something. He was too busy with his business to take care of it, but the Taylors didn't care about that little bit of money.

The nobles could laugh at the Taylor family's vulgarity, but they would never dare to question the treasury that could turn vulgarity into elegance.

Randolph was rubbing his thumbs, thinking about starting a new topic and asking the servant to leave, when his sister, Beatrice, suddenly raised her knife.

He smashed the porcelain plate into several pieces!

The huge breaking sound scared everyone!
——Not only Randolph, but even Theresa and the servants had never seen Beatrice like this.

She was staring at her brother with wide eyes.

"Not Roland!"

"W-what--?" Randolph was confused.

"No, it's, Luo, Lan!" She spoke each word clearly, as if she had used up all her strength to spit it out.

It's scary sharp.

"No, Betty, put the knife down... What's going on? What are you talking about-"

"It wasn't Roland who hurt me!"

Beatrice dropped the knife and started to scream, "It wasn't him! It wasn't him who hurt me! It wasn't him who hurt me! It wasn't him who made me lick those nasty shoes! It wasn't him! No! You can't! You can't stop him from coming! Come! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow tomorrow!"

The louder she got, the louder she got.

Theresa's face gradually became gloomy.

Randolph was stunned for a few seconds.

Soon, he took a deep breath, raised his hand, and gently stroked his sister's blonde hair, speaking softly and soothingly.

"Yes, I will let Roland come often, dear. Who can stop him? He likes you so much, and you like him so much. Roland and I are the best friends, and we see each other often - this also means that you see each other often, okay?"

Beatrice was still angry, but she finally calmed down a bit.

“Disgusting shoes?”

The pale, pointed-faced young man stroked his fingers. At this moment, he seemed particularly calm: "But if it's not Roland, who else could it be, Betty."

Beatrice pursed her lips, like a deflated ball, shrank her neck and turned away her eyes.

Randolph didn't seem to be in a hurry, and slowly threatened his sister: "If I can't figure this out, I'm afraid... Oh... It might be difficult for you to meet again..."

The threat worked.

As soon as these words came out, Beatrice immediately grabbed her brother's sleeve and squeezed it tightly. She turned her head and looked at Roland with pleading eyes.

——But no one responded.

Roland said nothing more, lowered his head, and continued to cut the steak. His brother also raised his glass, staring at the red waves formed by the blood beads in it, without saying a word.

The restaurant fell into an eerie silence.

and so…

Some of the usual cowardice finally became different today.

There was an unshakable fear in her eyes, her fingers trembled uncontrollably, and her heart almost jumped out of her throat - but despite this, her gaze still firmly passed the back of the chair and pointed to a corner in the distance.

The woman who was trying to hide herself among the servants.

"I see."

Randolph said in a low voice, expressionless: "Ah, this is an unprecedented insult."

The drawn-out tone was like an awl that was about to make someone wail, cold and sharp.

(End of this chapter)