The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1065 (Ch.1064) The Unexpected

Gilles hurried down the corridor, instructing the girls to hide as she went, and the men to grab their candlesticks and walking sticks and prepare themselves—she hoped the two men outside the door were good people, so she wouldn't have to summon the mice again…

She didn't like that 'feeling'.

It was like being thrown into a water tank that was over her head, and something was talking to her right next to the tank…

Very scary.

“Sir, if I open the door, please don’t have any bad intentions—we have many people here who can teach you a lesson.”

She spoke against the door panel.

There was silence outside the door for quite some time.

He didn't seem to care what anyone said inside the door; any response from anyone was considered a great favor.

“Thank God! Someone is still alive! Madam! I am a ritual performer of the ‘Great Vortex,’ Eve’s most devout follower! I assure you: if you save me and my friend, we can give you—”

crunch.

Before anyone could reply, Gilles opened the door.

A sea of ​​gold greets the eye.

The man was extremely handsome.

He was hastily dressed in a blue and gold brocade coat, his white shirt torn to shreds, revealing mottled, bitten flesh; below his high, straight nose were dry, bleeding lips; his entire face was stained with blood, and a thick arm was wrapped around a dazed man.

This person is truly injured.

"come on in!"

Gilles quickly stepped aside, and after the others came in, she swiftly closed the door.

When Theodore Gabriel entered the main hall, this was the scene he saw: four or five men with tense expressions, and various 'weapons' in their hands—candelabra and walking sticks aside.

What are indoor shoes and women's oriental hairpins compared to that?
Another young man picked up a chair.
“I have nothing more valuable on me, gentlemen,” Theodore muttered, quickly being helped up by a flurry of hands. The gray-haired man in his arms was also taken away by the men led by Groen—they placed him on a table, while the girls ran up and down the room, searching for anything that could stop the bleeding…

Elena's little garden should always have these things on hand, since the guests have all sorts of quirks.

"House of Fonseca" is really not very useful...

"Tear the sheets apart! Tie them up!" It was Gilles again giving the orders. Growing up surrounded by such things had given her many rare, life-saving skills in the face of disaster. "Hold him down! Gentlemen, hold him down! Margaret, the liquor…whiskey! Get that bottle that went around in circles at sea…yes, the really spicy one—"

Margaret reluctantly replied, "That's very expensive..."

"hurry up!"

She handled things methodically, which impressed the gentlemen who had spoken to her.

Saving lives is always better than killing them, isn't it?
None of them were willing to admit that they weren't tough guys, that they were afraid. But when Gilles Fonseca made the decision to open the door, everyone silently breathed a sigh of relief.

They didn't want to see Gilles again: standing expressionless amidst the rats...

That's terrifying.

"what is his name?"

Gilles parted the gray-haired man's face and examined his head and the skin on his neck.

“Florian Westevik, madam. My name is Theodore Gabriel Thackeray—we’re coming from the other end of the street…”

Gilles asked, puzzled, "Where are you going?"

Nobody would be wandering around like that at this time.

“The Temple of Nature—” Theodore hesitated for a moment, realizing that these people probably didn’t know what the Temple of Nature was. “I mean, that ‘living’ forest in the suburbs—we’re believers.”

The men understood instantly.

“This is not a good time, sir,” Groen said, and the others echoed his sentiments.

If they go to church, or escape back home, at least they'll be in the city—the suburbs aren't a good place, especially where those savages live: there's no cover, and houses are scarce. Once they're targeted by the rats…where will they run to?
Theodore pursed his lips and gently shook his head.

This proud man, bathed in sunlight, now had a dark cloud hanging over his handsome face that anyone could see.

Of course, it wasn't that he insisted on going back...

"Florian..."

A violent coughing fit interrupted the conversation.

“Good heavens! Margaret! You can’t just feed him strong liquor! I just told you that!” Proll yelled, snatching the swan-neck bottle from Margaret’s hand.

The latter chuckled awkwardly, then was pulled into Groen's arms and given a soft, gentle lecture.

Prol was furious.

Ever since she found such a 'father,' it has become difficult for her and Gilles to openly reprimand her—reprimanding her is useless anyway, the girl will always give perfunctory answers, and then when her lover comes, she will tearfully hide in his arms, crying and saying that she has suffered some grievance.

When that time comes, Groen will just wave his hand dismissively and say something like, 'Margaret is still a child'...

—When you were with her in the kitchen, on the balcony, or on the swing in the backyard, you didn't treat her like a child.

"Florian? Florian? Are you alright?" Theodore thanked Sita in a low voice, took the pillow the girl offered, and placed it under Florian's head.

The gray-haired man slowly woke up, his two pale, flat eyebrows furrowing in a rare gesture.

"...Thank you, Uncle."

Suddenly, all was quiet.

Everyone in the room looked at the handsome Florian, then at Theodore, who exuded a 'sunny and tough' aura—they never imagined that these two were actually 'uncle and nephew'...or at most, 'elder brother' or something like that...

Everyone thinks that way.

Only Margaret spoke up.

Proll was so angry that she tried to snatch Mr. Hansen's walking stick and spank her. Instead, Groen picked her up and carried her to the wine cabinet at the other end of the main hall.

"You should really keep an eye on her."

Gilles brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looked at the girl nestled in the man's arms, and said softly, "Soon, perhaps she won't be under my control anymore..."

Prol paused for a moment, then shook his head.

She didn't believe that someone with Margaret's temperament could have a 'lucky' later life—otherwise, would it be fair to those who are cautious, considerate, and gentle?
Gloen…

It might 'disappear' one day.

She's seen far too many people like that.

Some simply disappear, while others, under various pretexts—such as investments, stocks, or loans—take away the girls' life savings.

Generally speaking, if you see a girl who usually does business alone, and one day she suddenly starts accepting all customers, you'll naturally know what's happened to her... There are stories like this everywhere in the red-light district.

There are few good things and many bad things.

"That's true, you're almost under someone else's control now," the woman teased.

"Prol!"

None of those present understood what Florian Westwick meant by "Westwick." The young man even muttered that he hadn't seen any major wounds on the gray-haired man, yet he was completely unconscious.

Florian didn't care; he rarely bothered with mortals.

He only spoke softly after waking up and waiting for the girls and men to disperse, giving the 'uncle and nephew' space to speak—

(End of this chapter)