The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 741 Ch.740 You can choose the method you like

Finish dinner.

Roland originally planned to have a good experience of using the hammock, but he unexpectedly received another invitation from Darwin - he sent a sailor to inform Roland to go to his cabin before going to bed.

The room was even messier than it had been this morning.

The table with an oil lamp hanging on it was piled with documents.

"Looks like you had a good day?"

"Neither good nor bad. Gentlemen at sea really have no sense of humor."

"They look heroic, but there are not as many real optimists as you think. Mr. Collins... I have to say it."

He leaned back, stretched his old bones, and tapped the table with his fingers.

"I have sorted the research materials into categories and revised the catalogue... to make it more concise. It includes ocean climate, research on machinery, biology... the most important biology, regional landscape... No, this is a travelogue. I've sorted it out for you..."

Roland didn't understand.

"Sir? I am only literate?"

Darwin did not answer. He held the pen and started writing again.

The atmosphere in the room was not as relaxed as when the sun was still shining.

Roland thought, maybe this is the true nature of a "scholar" - they shouldn't be relaxed, relaxed enough to get along with anyone. Otherwise, how can they have time to focus on the "art" they pursue...

The waves rocked gently.

Oil lamps too.

About five minutes.

Darwin stopped writing and finished another piece of information.

"Mr. Collins, how do you say I should express my gratitude?"

The scholar asked softly.

"You saved me from death and from rotting in that hotel - even though it was just a trivial mission. But for the rescued, for a well-educated, educated, and morally upright person, it is difficult to use a 'mission' to absolve one's guilty heart..."

Roland knew he was referring to Fernandez.

"It's all too common for executive officers to get hurt, and it's not because of you."

"If it weren't for me, I'm afraid you wouldn't have had a conflict with Westwick," Darwin said, his back to Roland. His voice sounded like words squeezed out of rusty gears, quickly growing mold in the damp room. "Mr. Devinson wouldn't have been hurt either."

He paused the tip of his pen and hastily left a spreading ink dot on the paper.

The face reflected in the glass was covered in ash.

"I can only say that it is my duty, Mr. Darwin. If you are not satisfied, I think there are many good restaurants in London...but you should go home and have a good talk with your wife first."

Darwin turned his head with a strange expression.

"Have a good talk with your wife...? What does that mean, Mr. Collins?"

"I remember you said you had a princess."

"Yes, what's the problem?"

"The problem is," Roland pursed his lips, not knowing where to start persuading the old man, "You said she was born the year before last..."

"What's the problem with time?"

"You seem to have been travelling for five or six years, right?"

Darwin nodded subconsciously: "Dang——" Then he widened his eyes in disbelief: "Mr. Collins!"

He was angry and amused at the same time.

He wrote the theory of evolution, but can't he even tell the time it takes to conceive a child?

"I have been home during this time! Mr. Collins, and besides, my wife doesn't live in London!"

He saw that the young man with golden eyes breathed a sigh of relief, somehow.

Even more angry.

"Do you think I am... I am... someone who can't even tell the difference? Mr. Collins, are you insulting my wife or my intelligence?"

Roland looked disappointed: "I was just discussing with Shandel that we should praise your heart as being broader than the ocean..."

"Thank you. But I don't like such a vast - wait, who are you discussing with?" Darwin was stunned: "Miss Kratov?"

"Just a casual chat between friends..."

"You, you, are not going to tell me that this was 'discussed' in the public cabin?" Darwin finally put down his pen and turned around completely - because he realized that something uncontrollable seemed to be about to happen... or had already happened.

"Ah, discussion. You are a scholar, you should know that the word 'discussion' is not used to describe only one person..." Roland coughed and turned his face to avoid the gaze that was about to kill him: "What's more..."

“Everyone is so enthusiastic…”

Very enthusiastic?

"Is that why you were talking to the sailors about my having a daughter who wasn't my own and feeling proud of it?"

"I didn't say you were complacent."

Darwin: ...

"So you are more serious than I thought - should I give you a compliment like that?"

Darwin was so angry that he almost laughed.

"…I apologize to you, Mr. Darwin. Tomorrow morning, I will knock on every cabin door and tell them that the child is your biological daughter - okay?"

Darwin rubbed his face, as if there were many flies flying around him.

"…No, Mr. Collins, just, let's just let this topic pass…don't mention it again…"

He could imagine Collins knocking on doors and forcing the sailors to believe it—perhaps bribing them with cigarettes.

At that time, the child is no longer his own.

"I now finally understand what Mr. Devinson meant when he said that it's not easy to lead a team..."

These are not the original words.

Fernandez's original words were: There are always bastards causing trouble.

Now it seems that he should be a male bastard.

"Let's get down to business."

Darwin let out a long sigh, lifted his buttocks and moved the chair away.

The desk behind him was exposed.

Those manuscripts and materials were like the ups and downs of the sea, organized neatly according to categories on the table.

A larger stack is drawings related to machinery.

"I hope that what I have learned can inspire more people who are thirsty for knowledge. Mr. Collins, I have to ask you for a favor."

"Private."

He faced Roland, his knuckles unconsciously picking at the frayed edges of his cuffs, his eyes cast downward at the light reflected on the floor.

He said.

"I think you are an honest, sincere, and trustworthy person. At least from my perspective, with my own vulgar, superficial, and not sharp eyes, your unremarkable character may be your only 'little flaw'... an insignificant trait in your personality."

"You saved my life from those assassins..."

"I have nothing to offer in return, and I'm even asking you to do me another favor."

Darwin took a deep breath.

"I know I am shameless, but I have to do this - can you forgive me, can you help me?"

He was like a crushed snail, his broken shell no longer able to protect the soft body inside.

He oozed slime, exposing his vulnerability.

In front of a young man.

This is shameful enough.

Roland lowered his eyelashes: "I don't understand what you mean, Mr. Darwin."

The dust in the room shut its mouth, stopped flapping its wings, and landed quietly in silence.

Darwin looked at him.

It was like the muffled thunder that rolled and accumulated before a rainstorm.

"You know what I mean."

"I have no idea."

He smiled: "What I mean is: after you or your colleagues shoot me - I beg you, I beg you to preserve my knowledge and not let it disappear without a trace like my life..."

Silence forms prickly icy edges on the skin.

The passage of time makes some things that have been said irreversible.

Roland exhaled a breath of rum and said, "...It doesn't have to be a gun."

Darwin: ...

Male bastard.