The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1123 Ch.1122 The Daughter of the Whip

The middle-aged man with a rat-like appearance is the tenant of this house, and also the real manager of the 'lambs'.

He was wearing a pair of drab cloth trousers and a worn-out woolen shirt, with the cuffs rolled up, and he was holding a notebook and a charcoal pencil in his hands.

The interior is simply furnished, but it's kept very clean, so there's no dust rising up when someone sits down.

the most important is.

This person's attitude.

He treated Roland like he was seeing his father whom he hadn't seen for many years. He claimed that his daughter was infected with the latest 'new' plague—a plague that wouldn't kill people, but would give them the chance to awaken 'extraordinary' powers.

Simultaneously.

They are still very young.

Still new.

As he spoke and observed Roland, he rubbed his hands together as if a gaunt corpse were looking at an exquisite coffin—he was almost unabashedly demanding favors from Roland, wanting them even before anything had begun.

“My daughter is precious enough! Sir! You’ll know her worth as soon as you see her!”

Without saying a word, the man turned around and called out his daughter's name.

soon.

The bedroom door opened.

Halida gasped softly.

—That was a really beautiful girl.

She had long, light golden hair, a doll-like, flawless face, two pearl-like black eyes, and wore a 'convenient' coarse cloth skirt.

She timidly leaned against the door frame, head bowed.

"…dad."

"Come see this gentleman! Come here quickly!" His attitude towards his daughter was not so good—no, it could even be described as terrible.

The man scolded her, then strode over to the girl, grabbed her wrist, and almost forcibly pushed her into Roland's arms.

The girl is very light.

The bone beneath the skin was almost completely hollowed out by cavitation.

"Take a good look, I'm definitely not lying..."

Roland: "How should I address you?"

“Hamilton! Old Hamilton! Sir! Everyone knows my daughter is the best in this alley! You can go and ask around!”

Roland didn't rush to reply. Feeling the girl trembling in his arms, he spoke softly after a long while: "This is indeed worth a lot of money... Harida."

then.

The middle-aged man, who had received six shillings from the maid, watched with delight as Roland and his daughter—along with the other girls—entered the bedroom.

but.

What's wrong with the girl again?
People who come here have all sorts of quirks, and wise people never question them.

"Wishing you a pleasant time—"

boom.

Halida slammed the door shut.

They got too close and almost hit old Hamilton in the face.

"A delightful time, sir!"

He was still calling from outside the door.

The room was simply furnished: a bed, a few candles, and a crooked clothes rack made of rough wood.

There were no windows, and no other place to sit.

Shandel and Rose moved to the girl's left and right sides, one brushing aside her blonde hair from her forehead, the other making her open her mouth.

The sudden action left the girl somewhat bewildered. She clutched Roland's sleeve tightly, looking at her 'new guest' with a sense of helplessness.

"Do as they say, little one."

Roland patted the top of her head.

It only took half a minute.

"She did not contract the plague."

Rose squinted.

—As mentioned before, some people eat this.

The girl, who could identify food by smell, underwent an extra check this time, being asked to open her mouth—people infected with the plague usually have sores in their mouths. Besides the rotten smell, bleeding was also a significant indicator.

"She is not infected."

Rose sniffed the girl's scalp, then shook her head and looked at Roland.

"No."

These words terrified the girl. With almost unbelievable strength, she shoved Sandel and Rose aside, then hid behind Roland, muttering, "I'm infected...I really...I really had the plague..."

Rose frowned: "It seems... she was forced."

Shandel was quite surprised: "You think reading the question aloud is enough to answer it?" Rose: ...

"So what good answer do you have, Kratofer?"

The girl was definitely forced into it.

Otherwise, why would they come to this wretched place with Roland?

—Isn't it rumored that the Crimson Son is selling things that shouldn't be sold?

Items carrying the plague, or prostitutes under the age of eleven.

The child is at most eight or nine years old.

“I have to say, those people are quite clever…” Shandel put his hands behind his back, tilted his head, and made eye contact with the girl hiding behind Roland for a second—and then, just like a mouse seeing a cat, the girl hurriedly hid back.

"The government has explicitly banned the sale and spread of the plague. Their leaders, unless they're incompetent, would never dare to do such a thing..."

Rose understood immediately upon hearing this.

"Are they lying?"

Shandel glanced at her: "You've learned to think, Miss Shelley."

Rose: ...

"No wonder Roland doesn't really like taking you out—you can't help showing off your brain, can you?"

“Well… to be honest…” Shandel looked unexpectedly embarrassed and lowered his head. “It’s shameful, Miss Shelley. Indeed, I know I have this problem; I always like to show off what I ‘have’…”

Rose: "Who the hell are you calling brainless?!"

Roland silently pulled the girl around the battlefield and sat down by the bed.

He even waved to Halida.

Come here.

Harida: ...

Sir, they're about to start fighting.

"Hey, come here quickly."

Sir, should I separate them?

Harida wasn't sure if her 'glance' was accurately received by her master—

However, the answer is yes.

Roland was not a 'good master'.

He nodded.

'Okay. Do as you wish.'

Harida: ...

She was just waiting for a response like, "No need, come over here."

He glanced silently at the two women who were still trying to stab each other.

The maid slowly shuffled her legs, making a small circle along the wall, until she reached her master's side.

Roland whispered in her ear, "Why don't you separate them? The responsible maid?"

This time, even Harida couldn't help but glare at Roland.

How could she dare?

The blonde girl glanced at Roland and Halida, then turned to the two girls not far away who were locked in a mental battle.

For some reason, she smiled, coughing as she chuckled.

This brought complete silence to the room.

Several people turned their faces toward the girl sitting on the edge of the bed—which made her fall from heaven back to earth, remembering the fate she was meant to have.

She stood up gently.

She lifted her coarse cloth skirt.

Towards Roland.

She didn't say a word, but such a gesture could ignite the passion of almost any normal man in London at the moment.

Roland is not a normal man.

He is a cat suffering from habitual ankle sprains.

"Are those whip marks?"

Roland showed no reaction to the relatively new keyhole, instead turning his head to ask Halida a question.

Several girls came over, pulled the skirt back up, and rolled up the girl's sleeves.

Thin, long whip marks covered her arms.

Then to the back.

leg.

She was like a daughter of a whip.

(End of this chapter)