The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1155, Chapter 1154: Monica

Obviously.

Natalia possesses a magical power to obtain information through ingestion—and the other party has not been ambiguous about this matter (perhaps Roland's 'quick payment' pleased him).

"Like you, Roland, my mentor also possessed multiple secret organs..."

Tongue, nose.

stomach pouch.

This is also why she can accurately identify 'alien species'.

Natalia looked embarrassed, the young girl acting coy like she'd met a lover: "It's just 'possession,' little Xander. I only 'possession'..."

After saying that, he stared intently at Roland's face again.

"Most people 'possess,' a few 'own,' and almost no one can truly 'become'... It seems my prediction was correct. An organ of immense 'power' can fundamentally change..."

What is an organ that is "extremely powerful"?

She seemed to notice Roland's confusion, flashing her flawed teeth and laughing so hard that her cheeks were spread wide: "Like yours."

Pointing to Roland's heart.

'dragon'.

She spoke very softly, as if afraid someone would hear her.

"Only the most extraordinary mutants possess 'immense power'—it seems your story is no less compelling than mine, mutant."

Roland paused for a moment, then tapped his temple: "You missed the eye."

"Of course I didn't."

Natalia's expression was strange: "It seems you still haven't figured out where your 'eyes' come from, have you?"

“I won’t hide anything from you, Ms. Natalia. But it did come from a ‘human’—my sister. She gave me this candle that can light the world…”

“Ha! Sister! Humans! Humans! Humans can only give you a lie! Destruction! A story that goes on and on from hope to despair…” Natalia laughed so hard she almost fell over, then suddenly, catching him off guard, her face darkened: “But I can never give you ‘organs’… little mutant.”

She admired Roland's calm composure.

He himself had long suspected it.

“If you want to know its secret…” Natalia greedily opened her five fingers and then closed them again: “At least an arm…”

“I think we should finish this transaction first, madam. What can you tell me about the saint?” Roland glanced at the severed finger, which had been reshaped back into bone.

He can no longer be considered 'human'.

“The Saintess…” Natalia grinned. “Like an ice cube in whiskey, an alien. She’s just part of the ‘ritual’—is she your relative?”

"Do not."

"lover."

"Do not."

Natalia chuckled, crossed her legs, and sucked the golden blood from between her fingers as she unearthed a vibrant story from her memory…

"What does the Holy Maiden usually do? Her mentor?"

The rewind of time smoothed out the wrinkles on my face.

Natalia stared at the swan-neck test bottle hanging in front of her, the purulent green liquid bubbling and boiling inside.

Just like the eager hearts of her disciples.

“…Some responsibilities you should bear, Miss Monica.” She stared intently at the ever-expanding bubbles, watching them burst and coalesce, coalesce and burst again.

The woman subconsciously clutched her long sleeves.

The white teaching uniform, neither too wide nor too narrow, diligently concealed its owner's derailed heart.

"So, what responsibility should I bear?" the other party pressed. The girl called Monica stood gracefully not far from the lab bench—a gold and black satin dress, brown hair and eyes, her beauty completely out of place in this messy laboratory: she shouldn't have been here in the first place, but only to bask in the 'extremely renowned' glow…

Natalia.

Her nominal mentor, but also her academic adversary.

“Take on any responsibility other than wisdom, Monica. Why do you have to ask these questions while I’m working?” Natalia didn’t want to be distracted by talking to this 'disciple' who showed no sign of wisdom, especially when she had made a major discovery.

“Even my father knows your name, mentor. He wants you to be at the factory's opening ceremony, and afterwards, there are some 'personal'... I mean…”

Natalia stared at the swan-neck bottle without saying a word.

"tutor…"

Monica secretly curled her lip.

Her father spent a lot of money to send her to the convent to participate in the selection of saints—and of course, the well-educated girl did not disappoint her parents' expectations: she performed well in every aspect and stood out from the many candidates with an overwhelming advantage.

Becoming Natalia's apprentice was a small preparation made by Monica's father for his final decision.

Facts also prove it.

The rising star, Ms. Natalia, could indeed influence the choice of the saint to some extent—she easily obtained the title of 'saint'.

It also brought many unprecedented "preferential treatments" to the family—I helped my father, mother, my brothers and sisters…

Right?

I am the best, the most outstanding.

Thinking of this, Monica slightly raised her chin.

“Your father?” Natalia finally showed some mercy, her eyes revealing a hint of understanding. “Being ‘known’ to your father isn’t exactly a great achievement—especially for those country bumpkins who come to London and immediately start squandering their money…”

Monica couldn't believe Natalia would speak so disparagingly of her father: "Benefactor! How could you speak like that?!"

"'Benefactor above'? Two months ago, when I met you... Monica, all you could say was 'My dad is so rich'..." Natalia found it intriguing: "I find it hard not to say that about your father, Miss Monica. Does he know what 'Saint' means?"

Monica said with certainty, "Of course. Not only my father, but also my mother, my sister, and my brother, they are all proud of me."

“They should be proud of you,” Natalia nodded meaningfully, “for your ‘contributions’…”

"…tutor?"

"The responsibilities of a saint aren't too many; the nuns of the convent will show you what you're meant to see..."

The girl rolled her eyes, feigning worry: "I'm very worried, Professor. I'm worried... I won't do well..."

Natalia untied the swan-neck bottle from the silver wire sling and poured it into the metal mold on the test bench.

"So, you need someone familiar to you, someone who keeps their word, right?"

The girl was overjoyed: "Can you help me?"

“Of course I’ll help you, Miss Monica. Otherwise, the gold pounds your father gave would be like throwing them into the fireplace… wouldn’t they?” Natalia saw right through the girl’s little scheme—and not only that. In recent days, she had also heard quite a few 'interesting stories' about the girl.

For example, shamelessly attending various parties and banquets, whether formally invited or obtained through some really underhanded means.

Besides 'inadvertently' showcasing the wealth and nobility of his surname, this 'Disciple of Natalia' banner also brought the other party a lot of favors that he shouldn't have received.

"A nouveau riche who flaunts his new shoes everywhere."

This was the consensus among the ladies—the gentlemen didn't discuss the shoes, but rather chatted about 'Monica's' father in their spare time. Her surname was that of an obscure, newly formed family, as worthless as freshly baked bread…

And, of course, her proud, foolish, dilapidated factory.

Such jokes often emerge from high society circles.

How boring London would be without these people.

(End of this chapter)