The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 7: Ancient Professions
The salesperson in this jewelry store is probably a competent one.

"Please allow me to put away the brooch I had earlier, ma'am."

The man was no longer young, and there was ambiguity in his voice: he seemed to remember that he had just given a ruby ​​brooch to the three ladies in front of him.

But now...

"Brooch? You mean the red one?"

Miss Toffee showed just the right amount of doubt:
It’s not a denial, but a limited recognition.

"I left it on the counter, right here, you see, right over the price tag - I'm not criticizing, but those words aren't very nice." She traced the counter with the tip of her finger.

Roland listened to them shirking responsibility back and forth for a while, and finally the salesperson's voice became tearful.

"Holy Father! You must be kidding!"

The three women remained unmoved and said to everyone they asked that the item was placed on the counter, and stated that they had never lied.

"Yes, it's right here. I told you."

The salesperson's inquiries became louder and louder.

then…

People around began to speak up for themselves.

"It's your own responsibility. Who are you to question these three ladies?"

"A woman with the ability to steal? That's not funny at all."

"I guess it must be a gentleman who boldly and skillfully moved the brooch away - I'm not praising him, but it does require extremely superb skills."

"And be brave enough."

"I think this is nothing compared to the theft case half a month ago: that case showed the thief's strength, balance and agility. I can't imagine how that man climbed onto the third-floor window sill, sneaked into the bedroom silently, and stole the property. After that, he even fooled the patrolmen..."

"He must be a strong and sturdy man."

"But how do you explain its passage through the narrow window?"

“This is not our concern.”

The men around them began to speak up for the three sisters—not so much because they spoke up out of sympathy, but because they simply didn't think three women could do such a thing.

That's ridiculous.

As the conversation went on, the topic turned into a discussion of the case.

The salesperson was about to cry: "That's not cheap, everyone... everyone... please be kind..."

In the chaos, another salesperson bent over and squeezed out from the crowd.

Just as Roland expected.

Soon, the patrol police arrived.

This undoubtedly made the resentment in the store even stronger:

Some people grumbled that they had dates next; the ladies also emphasized that even women should not touch their bodies like skinning animals; some even raised their canes to prevent the patrolmen from approaching them.

They were in a stalemate for twenty minutes until Miss Toffee spoke reluctantly:
"…I will never come here again. Tell me, what will I tell my husband when I return home after I bring the servants with me?"

She has a good sense of timing.

The voices were all mixed, and they were all people who were standing up for her.

Roland listened quietly.

To be honest, at this moment, the jewelry store is no different from a small market.

There was a lot of chatter and it was so crowded that the fragrance was no longer able to cover up the stench of sweat.

"…I am willing to let the lady touch me and my servant for your convenience. But I have to tell you that this is not a good start at all. And you, the salesperson who framed the kind people, just wait, you are not worthy of this job."

The girl reluctantly chose a lady and went to the back store, which gave the male patrolman in the crowd something to say.

He first apologized to the gentlemen and ladies in the store, and then took the opportunity to make even more "excessive" demands.

In short, everyone, including Roland, was given a hasty search by the police:
Most women's skirts had no pockets and were complicated and heavy, so it was not necessary to strip and search them - and the searchers themselves would not do such a thing.

So, she just touched the hem of their skirts casually and pinched their cuffs carefully:

Yes.

This is considered a search.

It's even simpler for men.

Another ten minutes.

The three patrolmen who found nothing had sullen faces. They confirmed with the salesperson again and again, and after recording the lost brooch in the book, they bowed to apologize, and left in shame with sarcastic insults on the back of their heads.

This matter is over.

"I'm never coming again!"

Roland listened to the woman venting her anger triumphantly, and the crowd moved outward little by little in support.

Roland leaned against the counter, pretending to lower his head and pull the hem of his clothes, and took the opportunity to reach out his hand.

Just at the edge of the counter, underneath, he felt a piece of jellybean.

Gooey fudge.

There's something on it.

It's the brooch.

He held the brooch gently in his hand.

at this time.

A pair of thin and soft hands bumped into his car. Time seemed to stand still for a moment.

He could hear the other person's breathing becoming heavier.

"You're right. We can never come back to this shop that wrongly accuses a good person." Roland said loudly, smiled in the direction of the woman, clenched his brooch, and pried her hands apart.

"Goodbye, ma'am. I hope tonight's banquet can dispel the unpleasantness just now..."

Under the woman's gaze, Roland walked out of the jewelry store step by step.

This should be the lost one.

Red, ruby, round brooch.

Miss Nina can't use it.

Roland tapped his cane, fiddled with the brooch in his hand, and slowly walked back the way he came - he deliberately chose a narrow, deserted alley to avoid the main street with more traffic and people.

Soon, the sound of dense footsteps was heard behind me.

The three women followed.

The footsteps are getting closer.

At a corner, he was grabbed by the arm and thrown roughly against the wall.

A sharp dagger was pressed against his neck - and besides that, there was an approaching, no longer disguised voice.

Very young.

"…You took something you shouldn't have, sir."

she says.

The blade slid lightly across Roland's neck and sank into the flesh again.

"I just picked up a brooch, ma'am." Roland was pressed against the wall, his face turned sideways, and his voice was light: "I picked it up."

"Hand it over and get out."

She no longer used the pretentious tone, and said rudely: "Otherwise I will smear your little face - oh..."

The sound paused for a moment.

"You are so beautiful."

Roland pursed his lips and said nothing.

"Do you know how much that brooch is worth?" There was a smile in his voice. The blade gently moved away from his neck, but the tip of the knife turned upward and moved on his cheek. "It's not as precious as your face. Or, wait until I cut a few times on your face before you are willing to surrender - wait."

She suddenly realized something and screamed.

"You are blind!"

"Yes, ma'am." Roland didn't care about the cold blade on his face. He struggled for a moment, tilted his head, and added softly: "You can call me Collins... Roland Collins."

Collins, Collins.

This town is not big, and the slightly wealthy families are very famous.

She stared at the pale boy, looked into his beautiful but empty amber eyes, and slowly moved the blade away...

next moment.

It suddenly stabbed into the brick wall next to Roland's cheek!

Clang——!
"Look, little bastard, I don't want any trouble. Your rich quirks have nothing to do with me - just hand over your stuff and go your separate ways."

Roland slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket.

He showed her the brooch on his hand, and then immediately held it tightly.

"I do have a quirk."

Roland whispered softly, "There are always things lost: small leather shoes, patterned knives and forks, brand new shirts or oil lampshades... I think the person who picked them up is different from me. She should have a place to sell these expensive things... Don't you think so?"

Roland felt the arm pressing against his chest suddenly exert force.

Very hard.

"what do you want."

The woman gritted her teeth, as if waiting for him to say something rude.

Roland blinked and said, "I want twenty whiskers of a female cat." To be on the safe side, he doubled the amount.

"She-cat's."

Gender was also emphasized.

The silence that followed this statement was longer than any before it.

The woman released him and pulled the dagger out of the brick—even taking a few steps back.

"What's wrong with you?"

Her voice was very strange.

"I've told you all about my problems." Roland adjusted his collar and smiled. "I want twenty whiskers from a female cat, a small, pure, sharp-cornered sapphire, and a jar of oil from a lamp that has been used to watch a woman cry all night..."

The woman couldn't help laughing at the strange things.

"Ha...haha...you are so interesting..."

"Do you agree?"

Roland spread out his palm and pushed the brooch forward.

(End of this chapter)