The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1019 Ch.1018 Enid's Request
Fernandez's 'rat-catching operation' was not going well—even though Roland knew it, even though all the executors of the court responded to him, even though there were high-ring ritualists like Blade among them.

Enid seemed to have anticipated the difficulties they would encounter.

What image do executives have in the public's mind?
When these soldiers, dressed in black cult uniforms and with murderous intent in their eyes, knocked on the door, the residents, without saying a word, began to wail like mushy noodles.

Fernandez must have lost his mind.

He greedily wanted to change the court's bad reputation among the citizens: he believed the current rat-catching operation was the perfect opportunity—

then.

He patiently and politely explained to them that the officers would never do anything wrong to citizens who had not broken the law, and that they were simply starting from the East District and searching certain 'illegal' items one by one…

It's hard to believe how dangerous a seemingly gentle and timid bear can be to Londoners.

They were even more frightened.

"Sir...I have no daughter..."

The worker, clutching his ankle and pleading, was covered in snot and tears.

Blade crossed his arms and laughed incessantly at the back of the line.

The citizens' fear undoubtedly caused great trouble for the search team: they were certainly capable of being tough, and there were definitely people who were tough—such as Peter Heller, who was working separately.

The old gentleman had little interest in dealing with filthy, smelly people. He ordered his squad of enforcers to smash open the door, barge into the broken walls, and pour lime water into the rat tunnels—

This crude approach caused the liquid to quickly soak through the already substandard brick walls, and the sloppy work almost turned the already cramped hut into a suffocating swamp.

Peter Heller didn't care.

He saved their lives.

They can save dozens of people a day.

then.

The city government and the supervisory bureau received reports from the public that "the Black Crow of the Tribunal wants to demolish all the houses in the East End"—Victoria, upon hearing this news, gave Enid a good laugh.

She rarely has such an opportunity.

“I told him to ‘wait a minute’…” Victoria could hear the gritted teeth in Enid’s calm voice.

Is not it?
She originally intended to tell Victoria about it.

Next, the supervisory bureau and detectives will have to cooperate with the court proceedings—my brother is right, I really should beat him up more often.

“That’s the problem, Enid. I got a call this morning saying the source of the disease might have been found… You don’t want me to go through all that trouble, tearing down every single wall in every house, just for—something as unimportant as rats, do you?”

Since the source of the disease is not rats.

Then.

What's the point of breaking down walls to catch rats?
“You know what it means,” Enid said, looking at her.

“But the citizens don’t know,” Victoria said, picking a cherry with the stem removed and popping it into her mouth, seemingly unconcerned. “As long as they don’t die of disease anymore, that’s fine. Who doesn’t have a few rats in their house? If we follow your men’s method and demolish everything from the East End to the West End—do you know how much money the government would have to spend?”

It would be better to wait until the rat infestation breaks out and then send ritualists to eradicate it.

Since rats wouldn't transmit the deadly disease anyway, the ritual performers' courage, like the vows of the patrons of the red-light district, flapped its wings and flew back.

With so many ritual practitioners in the city, how could they not handle a few rats?

—The poorest idiots in the East District don't know how to use their identities.

Anyone who lives a little closer to the crossroads understands.

Moreover, this involves not only residential buildings, but also a lot of commercial land—and those businessmen are not easy to deal with.

"...Whose brother's lover's son is sticking his ass out, whose mother's sister is stealing whose man. Enid, the whole parliament, even this country, is like a tangled spider web... If you insist on doing such 'strange things,' you have to give me some time to discuss it."

such as.

The discussion focused on compensation and payment issues.

Dealing with rats can be charged or compensated—it depends on which area of ​​the wall was damaged, whose wall it is, and who owns it.

Enid isn't Fernandez; she wouldn't slam her fist on the table and yell at her, "This is a disaster!" or "How could you say that?"

Simultaneously.

She didn't explain to Victoria the complexity and density of the rat nests, and Victoria's current concern wasn't about some eccentric cultist causing trouble in London—the epidemic was the most important thing.

The toxins spreading like wildfire caused widespread panic, and the entire city of London resembled a giant coffin, bearing the burden of decay and stench. Victoria, of course, was eager to end this disaster. "I have prepared the 'Report on the Isolation of the Epidemic in the Boroughs of London' sent by Mr. Faircon Potts—Enid. At that time, the courts and the Inspectorate will also need to help maintain order…"

Enid lowered her eyes: "The owner of Beatles is not Falcon Potts."

Falcon Potts.

Vice President of the Royal College of Physicians of Beatrice.

Deputy Dean.

“Williams Jenner didn’t bring me good news, Enid. I don’t care who’s more senior or more respected—whoever can solve this disaster for me, Beatrice is mine…frankly, he can have whatever he wants.”

"I feel it's necessary to remind you of the disagreement between Falcon Potts and Williams Jenner—"

“Enid, I don’t care what kind of ‘power struggle’ they have.” Victoria didn’t think the old dean of Beatles and the energetic, prime-of-life vice dean could have any disagreements elsewhere.

Aren't these two both 'gentlemen'?

What else could they fight for besides power?
“You’d better know what you’re doing.” Enid’s expression was rather unpleasant.

Although Williams Jenner supported the Secret Service, he was a thorough 'moderate' when it came to the sick citizens—unlike Falcon Potts, who was supported by private alliances, businessmen, and the core of the Grey Party.

This is a more rational, but more ruthless radical.

At least in dealing with the recent toxins roaming the city of London, his performance in every aspect has failed to satisfy the vast majority of citizens—including the fact that mercury prices on the market "simultaneously" rose before he even began to publicize it…

It kept rising until it reached the sky.

Anyone with eyes can see what's going on.

The old aristocracy didn't have the ability to manipulate the market for mercury and potion ingredients, much less the ability to get almost all the newspapers to unanimously praise a certain 'dean' who was about to become a hero.

"The Grey Party supports you and gives you the strength to fight the Secret Party. Victoria, this does not prove that they, or the people they have chosen, are any good people."

What kind of people are businessmen?
Victoria stared at Enid with a strange expression.

She knows Enid Juilliard too well.

This woman doesn't care much about 'trivial' things—what does it matter to her if all the citizens of London were to die?
"Don't forget, my lover is also in London."

Enid seemed to know she couldn't be fooled, and sighed deeply: "He always brings shady friends to the court, and the other officers will have something to say about it—if you decide to bring the Greys to power, give my Roland a better job... I can't let him run around with Fernandes Devinson. London is becoming increasingly unsafe."

Victoria asked suspiciously, "Isn't the courtroom safe enough?"

“Oh, do you think the court can keep him locked up?” Enid retorted.

This prompted the Queen to laugh mockingly: "You can't even control your own lover..."

but.

She was quite happy to 'help' Enid Jutia.

They are on the same line.

At least for now.

“I can have him come to my bedroom to serve me.”

“Victoria,” Enid said sternly.

“Alright, doesn’t he have a friend at church? Bishop Cratoff isn’t too busy lately, so let him go to church. If Whitehall isn’t safe, then there’s nowhere safe in London—I can send an executive officer to church… Let me think… How about the detector? I heard he seems to know people at Daniel’s Workshop?”

“Let him accompany the craftsman, take the detector to the church, and stay for a while. That should settle things—see, in the end, the Eighth Ring Ritualist…”

The increasingly plump queen put on airs again, tilting her neck back—a neck so thin it could probably hang itself—and smilingly appraising her friend.

Enid turned her face away at just the right moment.

I remember my brother saying…

He found the ritual somewhere in Whitehall during the rat infestation.

It's probably related to Gary Kratoffer.

great.

That makes sense.

(End of this chapter)