The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1022 Ch.1021 Gentle and Approachable
There were clearly far more believers in Whitehall than on the ground. According to Sunder Kratofer, "the closer one is to the faith, the stronger the faith of the devout"—a statement that is undoubtedly wrong in the courtroom.

The number of priests coming and going in Whitehall was no less than the number Roland had seen the last time.

They were all busy with their own tasks: repairing murals, praying, and teaching the holy children as they went. Some of the ritual practitioners knelt before the longevity altar, which was enveloped in candle wax; the intense "secret" was almost perceptible even to a mortal like Deloz.

She couldn't sense the existence of the "secret," yet ants had crawled on her body.

"...This is my first time coming to church."

With his shoulders level, Sender nodded occasionally to the priests who came towards him: "I remember they didn't forbid prostitutes from praying."

Roland assured that Sender was not being sarcastic towards Deloz, but the latter would not tolerate anyone mentioning 'origins' in his presence.

This is Deloz's sore spot.

“Yes, Miss Kratoff. Not only do you not ‘forbid’ it, you also require people to go to the convent every night to confess, either by candlelight or by the saplings of the senior nuns—in this respect, the nuns are ‘enjoying dirty things with pure bodies’.”

Deloz sneered.

“This is a good business. Oh dear, if one day London were to run out of prostitutes, the convent would have to go to Palo Yemed to dig up the resident registers—and the women not on the list would be in trouble, wouldn’t they?”

Sender smiled but didn't say anything.

This made Delos even angrier.

She wasn't afraid to debate with anyone, no matter who they were, whether they were scholars, professors, or had numerous honors—but she found women like Cinder extremely annoying.

With a disdainful, absurd expression, he only showed half a row of teeth, blowing air through the gaps between them.

'How can I argue with someone like you?'

Deloz hated her from the bottom of his heart.

Deep inside Whitehall.

Deep within the scattered bookshelves, they passed through paintings depicting the 'Benefactor's Creation,' the stone slabs tilting downwards revealing an ever-widening dome above.

The bishop's 'office' surprised Roland (who had imagined that old Mr. Kratofer would be riding around with several holy children... or something like that); it was not only not 'holy', but even somewhat similar to Enid's office—

Bookshelves, bookshelves, and more bookshelves.

In addition, the spacious office was filled with silver crosses of various sizes, a full-length mirror, a narrow double-door wardrobe, a sturdy desk, gas lamps, and bundles of candles in the corner.

The old bishop still looked the same.

Her smile is gentle and kind, making it hard not to feel a sense of goodwill.

After saying "Please come in," he saw Sender, followed by Roland and Deloz, who immediately rose to greet him: "I think we'll meet again someday, won't we, Mr. Collins? And... oh, I've heard of you, Miss Fonseca. Guess how many times Daniel has complimented you?"

Deloz bowed his head, tugged at his leather pouch, and curtsied. Roland stepped forward and greeted him with the Holy Cross.

“Judia informed me, Cindy. You can go directly to the third floor…” The old bishop glanced in the direction of the door, his voice lowering a few decibels: “…The children in Whitehall won’t learn that.”

What does it mean to 'not be able to learn'?
Deloz was puzzled.

Babbage and Mr. Darwin's improved 'detector' can be learned to operate even by six or seven-year-old children within half an hour.

“I can teach them, Bishop Kratofer. The gentleman instructed me beforehand, and you can rest assured that I have the ability to teach anyone how to use the workshop’s products—it doesn’t require any brains at all.”

The kind-faced bishop smiled at her: "Child, it's not that they lack intelligence, but rather that their minds have solidified like cooled wax—I don't believe your so-called 'science' can 'reshape' them... What do you think?"

Deloz's eyes widened: "You...you...how could you..."

“Of course I can, I’m a bishop. Besides, is there anyone else in this house?” Gary Kratofer was much more mischievous than her daughter, and she secretly pulled open a drawer, pried open a cardboard box along the seam, and asked them if they wanted some gummies. Orange flavored.

Deloz dared not be impolite, so Roland asked for a piece to share with her.

That's even more rude.

"The title of bishop only proves the steadfastness of my faith and the length of time I have held that faith—it doesn't mean you should treat me like a shaky glass bottle: even if the bottle breaks, a girl won't have to pay for it, will she? Miss Deloz Fonseca, what is there for you to fear about the Holy Cross?"

He asked a question and then quickly answered it himself, giving Delos no time to respond.

"Oh, yes, there are. For example, those faces where nothing but gods are in their eyes, right?"

Deloz looked at him, his eyes slowly curving into a smile: "You're right."

Gary Kratofer pounded his shoulders and made Deloz take off his leather pouch to demonstrate the young man's new invention to him—he was old enough to see what the future looked like: if this thing could detect the concentration of "secrets," wouldn't that be the end of cultists?

At least it can serve as a deterrent, making those gentlemen who act recklessly in the city, like those who often flaunt bamboo shoots in their own homes or in front of their servants, more restrained.

At least.

Upon hearing this, the girl found a spacious place, untied her leather pouch, and took out the improved detector: it wasn't the 'large' one Roland had seen before; it was not only twice the size, but also had a 'slightly more presentable' outer shell.

Like a sturdy hunting gauntlet, it can be adjusted in size via leather buckles to fit the arm of a woman or man.

—Incidentally, Roland saw the shadow of the 'hidden blade' in the clasp.

Darwin must have played a part in this.

"Awesome... Is this the 'future'?"

Gary Kratofer held the armband and examined it from all angles: unlike the previous messenger, the old bishop particularly preferred a 'simple' exterior—in his words, overly embellished piety was frightening.

Those who follow the Holy Cross should set an example.

“If only they were all as understanding as you…” Deloz muttered, and Xander glanced at her.

madness.

A fool with a brain but no brains.

Who do you think you are facing?

Gary Kratofer's smile grew even warmer: "I try to ask them, child. But I can't guarantee you—even the Queen can't guarantee that the sun shines on every corner of the Empire…and I certainly can't either."

He removed his holy cloak and burqa, and like the drunken men in the tavern, rolled up his sleeves and had his three children help him put on this 'scientific arm guard'.

Then start it using the knob.

In an instant, two streams of air shot out from the copper pipe on the outer side with a hiss.

The hands of the clock in the convex mirror began to vibrate.

then.

It stopped between the marks 'seven' and 'eight'.

Seven or eight?

“It seems it’s still somewhat inaccurate…” Deloz pulled out many parts that Roland had never seen before, tapping and tinkering with the shell, regardless of who was currently using it: “…You can see it through here…? Unscrew this, adjust its dimensions, adjust it according to the level of each ritualist…I suggest…”

(End of this chapter)