The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1130 Ch.1129 Beatrice's Changes
The vigorous rat-hunting campaign, the goat horn masks that only appeared at night to heal the sick and save lives, and the self-proclaimed thugs.

The "Savi Brotherhood" constantly clashed with the courtroom.

An increasingly 'compromising' government, and the soon-to-be-established Crimson Sons cult—perhaps only lacking a name…

Amidst the chaotic, acrid atmosphere of London, a novel quietly spread.

The name is interesting:
The Little Mermaid.

--so.

A book…

Books about pirates?

The story of a pirate father and the woman who inherited his treasure, status, ferocity, and ambition.

The ladies were very interested.

of course.

They spent an afternoon or several afternoons reading the book, and couldn't eat for three to five days afterward.

This magical spectacle continued to unfold in London's high society, arousing the interest of many men in the novel—frankly, they preferred poetry, drama, or pure music to the novel.

These represent 'genuine quality'.

novelist?
Who are those people?

A mean-spirited man who haggles even in a brothel, a group of freaks who, despite being shot fifteen times, still fight for the empire, yet in reality wouldn't dare touch even a beetle.

Most gentlemen don't like them much, just as they don't like detectives who specialize in prying into people's privacy.

But 'The Little Mermaid' is different.

When someone curiously bought a copy and secretly shed tears, the wicked man started spreading it among his circle—he couldn't be the only one crying, could he?
The Little Mermaid.

The story is very simple: Among the strange creatures in the sea, a group of fish-tailed, human-bodied people, there is an even younger 'girl' who one day saves a prince who has been shipwrecked.

She fell in love with him at first sight, kissed him, and saved his life—up to this point, the whole story falls into clichés, not much different from the common novels written specifically for women.

then.

The plot takes a sharp turn for the worse.

The prince did not remember who saved him—or rather, he mistook the person for someone else.

The little sea monster was frantic.

Ignoring all advice, she took it upon herself to use the rare artifact hidden in the palace by the sea—a treasure of her father.

A Holy Grail made of gold.

What followed was not so pleasant.

Obviously.

The prince fell in love with the princess of a neighboring kingdom, but in the end, the young siren never told him the truth—she simply returned to the sea, turning into foam in the waves under the blazing light overhead…

A touching story?
Not at all.

Stories that make you angry.

Almost there.

At least the gentlemen, after reading it, did not, like the women, marvel at the poignant love story, the selfless and silent sacrifice, the ultimate tragedy, and the lonely wait—they thought the author of this novel was a scoundrel.

An immortal soul?
They couldn't accept this outcome.

But soon.

A novel titled "The Little Mermaid (Revised Edition)" has quietly hit the market, following the lead of its predecessor.

In the story of this book, the little siren makes a completely different choice.

She used the Holy Grail to kill her own brothers and sisters. Then, her father.

She ruled the entire sea and became the first queen of the ocean.

—From beginning to end, the prince's appearance only existed in the negotiations between the maritime kingdom and the land kingdom.

What do you think of this story?
The ladies said it was rotten.

The gentlemen, however, found it amusing.

It's far superior to the previous story of 'dying for a prince' or 'dying for an immortal soul'.

The perspective is unique, and the development is unexpected.

For a while.

The two 'Little Mermaid' books each found their own target audience and sold out quickly within just half a month.

This prompted Randolph to tease Roland for quite some time, saying that he had "inherited" his abilities and even far surpassed them—

Merchant behavior.

That's truly despicable. Therefore...

The topic has returned to the present.

In the discussion about "what a novelist is," an author named "Big Hammerhead" has added a significant touch to the field he doesn't intend to stay in for long.

By the way.

Both novels were ghostwritten and polished by Miss Brontë, and Roland did not receive a penny.

“You really should give up the profits you’ve already made. The Taylor family took a considerable risk by publishing a banned novel.”

"Come on. London is a mess, who cares about a novel? If it weren't for Miss Brontë, I think your publishing house would have gone bankrupt long ago."

“Be precise, Roland. If it weren’t for Brontë, I would have ‘sold’ it long ago.”

Randolph didn't believe that the owner of Golden Smoke couldn't run a small publishing house well—not for Brontë's sake, but because he didn't care about such a small profit at all.

Even including Roland's.

However, the flow of golden smoke lasts only a day or two.

“You don’t seem like someone who would be interested in art, Roland.”

Randolph fiddled with the cuffs Teresa had custom-made for him, his gaze slowly moving upwards from the armhole—these kinds of garments were considered everyday wear for the Taylor family, and each custom-made piece cost the equivalent of half a worker's, or a month's, wages…

Perhaps more.

"It was just to make my friend famous."

"Who?" Randolph chuckled. "It can't be a siren, can it?"

He turned his shoulder away and instructed the maid to inform the kitchen. The Asian chef he had hired had a clue about Roland's recipe.

"You'd better check on Betty for me, my brother."

After dismissing the servants, Randolph clasped his hands together and leaned forward with a deep, solemn expression.

“She’s been acting a little strange lately.”

The candlelight couldn't escape the dark, newly nailed wainscoting. Shadows fell on the man's face, which was thinner and thinner, with prominent cheekbones, making him look even more sinister and sharp than usual.

He emphasized the word "something's not right" as if afraid his friend wouldn't understand the seriousness of the problem.

"Has she started saving money for the dragon again?"

Roland looked up.

“No. She’s started lying, Roland.”

Randolph felt his mouth go dry. Although he knew Roland Collins was blind, he still felt a strange urge whenever those amber eyes gazed upon him…

Like a sinner staring at a burning cross.

“She never lied to me, to Theresa, or to Brontë.”

“Humans are born to lie, Randolph. You’re too harsh on your sister. I’ve known how to use lies to get what I want since I was four—like how to trick Yam into eating the soft bread that was only given to her.”

Randolph pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not a good lie, Roland. Betty never lies, and never… This is a bit off. And her ‘friend’—Barton says… he senses a ‘mystery’ in Betty…”

Roland squinted: "A 'secret'?"

Randolph nodded. "Name her whatever you like. Thank goodness, I didn't see her talking to mice—except for talking to herself in the mirror..."

Randolph was not worried about Beatrice Taylor, his most beloved sister who became the ritual performer.

He simply didn't want her to become a ritual performer in the Cradle of Flesh and Blood.

A member of the Saviour Brotherhood.

A pitiful girl who easily gets caught in the vortex of faith and politics...

He was naturally willing for her to hold that extraordinary key—he was a businessman, a big businessman, with a broader perspective than the average citizen, and naturally didn't believe what the newspapers said about 'becoming a ritualist means being forced to fight against pain and madness every day'.

What a joke.

The man in front of him did nothing but slack off all day, stealing his cigars and his sister…

My pocket money.

But there was no sign of him struggling with pain and madness.

Extraordinary means naturally superior to others.

Like people with thin, bluish blood.

soon.

Another kind of person is about to rise above London.

(End of this chapter)