The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1036 Ch.1035 Three items
A farce that makes it impossible to calm down and think.

A series of incredibly realistic performances.

It wasn't until five minutes of quiet that Deloz finally pieced together what had happened: rats had sprung up from the walls. Roland had saved him and thrown her into the safe house like a cannonball—and, Xander Kratofer was a ruthless killer.

'She's a ruthless killer': This is how some gentlemen who frequent Covent Garden Lane or Boulevard des Bleu would describe a courtesan who greatly pleases them.

This is the highest praise.

'He kills without blinking an eye'.

However, Deloz Fonseca still hasn't figured out what that sentence means—does it mean that they are so beautiful that they make people dizzy and even die?
She asked her sister's 'tenants' about this.

Those beautiful aunts, who shaved themselves every day to look like a piece of fat that had been scalded several times, would just open their folding fans and tease her with their numb eyes that mimicked bright and charming looks, saying that her sister Gilles didn't allow her to know so many 'good things'.

When she reaches marriageable age, she will naturally feel those 'uncomfortable' aspects—and by then, with the innate human spirit of exploration and adventure, she will figure it out without being taught.

that's all.

It is a simplified version of Deloz Fonseca's work.

In reality, that conversation was longer, more complex, more desperate, or mixed with emotions that she couldn't understand when she was younger.

But let's get back to the point—that's how researchers' thoughts jump around and are so elusive, just like most mediocre authors always have a mind that leaves them at a loss.

So, what should they do now?
Even with an 'escape' door...

The streets are teeming with man-eating rats.

“Nowhere is safer than the church, Roland.” Sinder didn’t care about the little craftsman who might only make Roland comfortable for a few days. She sensed Roland’s eagerness and reminded him that this was no joke.

Even if Cinder Kratofer is a crazy girl.

In the face of such a catastrophe, she managed to maintain a semblance of 'rationality'—she would rather die with Roland than die in the mouth of a stinking rat.

"Nowhere is safer than the church?" Deloz gave him a strange look, as if to say, "What are you talking about?"

If this place is truly safe, where did the rats come from?
“Believe me, Miss Fonseca. If the Church really falls, there will be nowhere in all of London that can save your life,” Sandel’s voice was soft and gentle—if she weren’t sitting on a corpse: “Someone will come to our rescue. The believers, the fanatics, the high priests… will not allow the Holy Cross to fall.”

only…

Sindel silently moved his eyes.

Roland nodded.

They all noticed it.

The ritual that 'protected' the church had 'lost its breath'—the 'ritual' that Sender and Roland learned about during their first stroll through the church, and also during his first long conversation with the gray-haired girl after recovering from his injuries.

A ritual left behind by the immortal Christopher Ryan.

"The best option now is to stay here."

She pressed her knees as she rose, walked around the bookshelf, and brought over a leather suitcase: a suitcase that seemed too big for a young girl's lap—how ​​could Roland and Delos not have seen it before?

"Before you open it, I must warn you: this is theft."

Deloz is no longer afraid of Xander.

"What do you mean by theft?" Sender threw the suitcase in the center of the three men and sat back down on the corpse.

What does "theft" mean?
Deloz almost laughed out of exasperation at the woman: "Theft? Do I need to explain that to you? Taking possession of someone else's property without permission, Miss Sandel Kratofer, do you need more details?"

To her surprise, Shandel seemed genuinely unaware of the meaning of 'theft' and nodded thoughtfully.

"Then this is not theft."

"you--"

“My grandfather was Gary Kratofer. He was responsible for distributing much of the loot—before the high-ranking members of the Council of Truth would send people to take it away. I can say this, Miss Fonseca: if a cultist goes down a path he shouldn't, he shouldn't be looking for some evil party gathering…”

The gray-haired girl looked back with a smile.

“It’s the address of the Holy Church’s high-ranking officials. Most cults don’t even have a fraction of the promotion materials and rituals they collect…” Deloz sighed, “I’ve learned something new, Miss Kratofer, thank you.”

—What was seized belonged to my grandfather, and what belonged to my grandfather is mine.

This is what Sender conveyed to Delos.

Received, Miss Kratoff.

“Besides just waiting for rescue, we need to find something that can help… Do you have any other ideas, Miss Fonseca?”

Deloz, with a stern face, pulled over the suitcase, unfastened the latches, and deftly lifted the lid.

Roland laughed so hard he almost fell over.

Deloz glared at him: "This doesn't count as theft, at most it's 'temporarily borrowing her family's tools in the presence of a friend'...you...you better stop laughing!"

"Understood, Miss Cannonball."

"Who are you calling a cannonball!"

"Awl, Deloz, don't point your awl at people—"

Another Rose.

Ignoring the noisy couple, Shandel smiled and pulled over his suitcase, picking out one oddly shaped item after another.

The most numerous of these were manuscripts: manuscripts containing blasphemous words.

Most of them are useless, merely the conjectures of ordinary people. A small portion are related to esoteric teachings, studied diligently for years, but are nothing more than general or minor rituals.

Besides the manuscripts.

The rest were almost all items that Sindel could hardly identify.

An old gold handmade music box, with a wind-up knob inside the lid and a silver foil 'baby' that shows how much effort the craftsman put into it.

Presumably, as the music box is turned on, the baby will…

Start crawling?
Maybe there will be other changes... like crying out for her mother? Shandel didn't hold out any hope for the craftsmen's common 'flash of inspiration'.

Put down the music box.

Pick up the second item: a puppet made of human skin.

The doll, made exceptionally ugly by shrinkage, has its facial features marked only with the most sloppy engravings and sewn cloth—what is striking is that its eyes are two glossy black buttons like beetles.

As for how Shandel could so easily recognize human skin...

She put down the doll and picked up the third item.

A rose petal.

The blood-red petals are covered with holes eaten by insects: you can only see this when you hold it up to the light, and these densely packed 'holes' cannot let any light through.

Black insect holes, or ink spots, are distributed in a very regular pattern on every inch of the petals.

It's the same whether you flip it over or not.

Senna lowered her eyelashes and gently pinched a petal.

The doll doesn't look like it.

Music boxes are too simple, they don't have enough 'space'... for sound?
Or perhaps, this petal?

"Roland."

She hastily piled the manuscript papers aside and pushed the three items in front of Roland.

"I think I've found something useful for us... hasn't I?"

(End of this chapter)