The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1096 Ch.1095 God Gives Love to the World

"Who sent you to cause trouble in the Great Whirlpool? You bitch?!"

Gilles Fonseca.

This was the first time a woman accustomed to the elegance of the red-light district had been treated so roughly—at first, she still held onto some hope, hoping that, just to be on the safe side, she would be trapped in this house, perhaps waiting a few days until the light-haired gentleman had arranged things, investigated, and given her a not-too-bad certificate…

Maybe she won't even need to prove it.

Although she didn't want to cause Fernandez any trouble, now that she had become the executive officer's woman, she naturally wouldn't end up like a 'cultist'.

That was what she originally thought.

"Running wild? Gentlemen, that's absurd. I escorted your master, escorted that blond gentleman back to his faith—I'm not showing off my acquired evil magic, gentlemen, but I haven't done anything evil, have I?"

Her reasoning failed to gain the approval of the Green Robes.

The three men rolled up their wide sleeves and pinned her firmly to the bed.

One of them—who seemed to have been guarding this place for years—recited a few words that she couldn't hear, and then a thick thorny vine crawled in through the window: the window covered by brown leaves.

The vines spread out and stretched across the wall, forming dozens of thin, green threads.

soon.

They climbed over the wall and wrapped around Gilles's wrist.

"Benefactors above! How could you treat me like this?!"

Not only was her wrist stinging, but when Gilles Fonseca noticed that the way these people were looking at her was starting to change—she had seen that look far too many times before.

“I am Gilles Fonseca! You—my man is—”

She kicked at the filthy claws coming from the deep ravine, so desperate she almost called out the man's name to threaten him: but she suddenly stopped there.

This was a great pity for the priests.

They stopped and asked her with smiles, "Tell me, you old bitch, who's your man?"

The woman's eyes were red, and sweat made her hair sticky and cling to her forehead and cheeks. She had almost never looked so disheveled.

"...It's Sir Emilio!"

She called out a name, but it couldn't stop the claws that kept climbing.

The monster is about to crawl out.

“It’s Busby! Baron Busby! And Mr. Parker! I have many men!”

She shouted, her voice sharp but her heart weak, determined to find a name that could intimidate these green-robed men—there were many big names circulating in the red-light district, and the names that a 'mother' could call out were probably comparable to those of politicians who had cultivated their influence for years.

There are indeed quite a few names.

But they didn't get the answer they wanted.

"Panic bitch."

The men in green robes looked at each other and burst into laughter, threatening her to reveal her 'real' lover—the real one, someone of sufficient importance.

Fonseca is not stupid.

In an instant, she seemed to understand these people's true purpose: shamelessness! How could they still claim to be children of the gods—

Shameless! !

"And Lord Davis..."

She racked her brains, scrutinizing every detail, trying to come up with any decent names she could think of to buy time.

The green-robed leader, however, saw right through her.

“Listen to me, madam.” He waved away the eager suitors behind him, walked to the bedside, and looked down at her:
“Listen to me. We just want a name—you're not stupid, you should know what we want. Say it, and then, stay here for a few days…”

Gradually, his voice grew softer and softer.

"How much do you earn in a year? Go to the street, to the main street, to the places we've arranged—you know the details, he's told you a lot about it…right?"

He crouched down and looked her in the eye.

“We’ve found out quite a bit, even if you don’t tell us. Ms. Fonseca, how many people do you think have seen him coming in and out of your villa… Fernandez de Winson, yes, I need you to identify him.”

Gilles Fonseca suddenly calmed down.

“How can I ‘prove’ him? Sir, he’s an executive officer with a court behind him.”

The leader in green robes laughed: "Simply enough. You're a cultist, ma'am. An executive and a cultist... I think this combination is enough to make a difference..."

Gilles scoffed: "Cultists will be burned at the stake by the Inquisition. I'm not a child anymore."

“Hmm…they’re always so rude,” the man reached out and gently stroked Gilles’s cheek. “But you’re from the ‘Vortex’—I mean, someone Mr. Westwick vouched for…the Inquisition can’t take you.”

"So, even the light-haired gentleman has become corrupted? You don't seem like believers at all," Gilles sneered. "Why don't you just pick any woman?"

"The sacred flame of the High Ring possesses the power to detect lies—of course, madam, the person we commissioned only teaches you to 'tell the truth'..."

"I think you'll agree, won't you?"

After he finished speaking, he stood up and transformed back into the guillotine that stood high above him.

"...I am also a child of nature, sir."

Gilles' voice trembled slightly: "How could you treat your own people like this..."

"Compatriot?" Another green-robed figure chuckled. "This absurd harlot, there is no place for you in my god's pure world..."

They seemed to give Gilles no more time to consider, or perhaps these people were like the interrogators who hid in the dungeon year-round—they knew very well that people would never learn to be obedient without being taught a lesson.

Next.

A wild, primitive natural atmosphere swept over this house built on civilized soil.

Holding oak spurs and cursing her as a "heartless, pathetic slut," they beat her face and abdomen, completely subduing her and tying down her kicking hooves. The oak spurs then served their intended purpose—

They laughed at her, saying she was like a clumsy, headless wild dog, and how smelly she was, constantly defecating in bed.

They waved oak spurs and prayed to the heavens, hoping for a blessing from their loneliest and greatest god, while threatening the dying woman that if she did not confess her sins and call out her 'accomplices,' she would suffer the same torment every day…

Or something even harsher.

She didn't want to go through this most primitive natural ritual with them in a dignified manner, and then take some gold out of their pockets—to be realistic: didn't she want to live?
Fonseca greeted their mother and the gods they worshipped.

Soon, it began to howl like a puppy whose throat had been bitten by a cheetah.

They called her heartless, an ashtray overflowing with ashes.

She overturned one with all her might, only to be beaten until she begged for mercy and cried; then, while begging for mercy, she suddenly turned on someone and viciously attacked their dignity.

Her breath crystallized.

On the wall in the very center of the room.

In the jade patterns, surrounded by green vines and repeatedly polished.

The emblem symbolizing Eve, the goddess of nature, hangs silently.

It gazed at Roland, who had vanished into a phantom, and in a poignant silence spoke of its love and compassion for humanity…

But the world is not worthy.

(End of this chapter)