The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1166 (Ch.1165) The Monkeys

knock knock.

knock knock knock.

Knock knock knock—

Sometimes I find you as annoying as a golden-eyed woodpecker!

Unable to bear the noise any longer, the girl had no choice but to open the window and let the woodpecker in.

The autumn nights are getting cooler.

To keep warm, Miss Rupert Benevento wore a round, soft-brimmed black felt hat, a deerskin-colored plaid hunting suit with wide shoulders, gloves and boots in matching colors, and light gold thread embellishing the gray seams.

To keep warm.

Miss Rupert Benevento also put two unusual locks on the door, and three soft-leather, brick-red suitcases were stacked in a tower according to size.

To keep warm.

Roland also sensed a seasonal "fountain of youth" scent about her.

It is evident how devastating winter is to the Benevento family bloodline. Roland almost had to ask Miss Rupert about her ancient family history, whether they had sacrificed themselves one after another, bravely fighting against the monsters of winter—for at least a hundred years.

“A gentleman never stares so intently at a lady, Mr. Collins. You look like a poor man from the East End seeing a hot steak covered in pepper and spices up close for the first time, as if you could read some kind of wisdom from it…”

Roland tapped his boot heels slowly and deliberately: "This is the first time I've ever heard a girl compare herself to a steak—a beef steak or a pork steak?"

"Get out of my room!"

"Impotent rage".

Just in time, the white flames spelled out a line of words on the top of the short girl's hat.

“The Benevento family is something else. I’ve never seen anyone sleep in hunting attire,” someone said, leaning back familiarly at her walnut dressing table. “Are you ready?”

"W-what? What do you mean I'm 'ready'?" Rupert took a half step back, and only breathed a slight sigh of relief when he saw that Roland was just 'talking'—this guy has a 'criminal record'.

"Getting ready to leave London for a trip—why did you bring so much luggage? I can't carry it."

No one can question whether a lady's luggage is too 'excessive'.

The other lady wouldn't do either.

“This is all necessary!” she exclaimed as if a thousand unwanted tails had been stepped on. Roland even believed that if she opened those three boxes and picked out the 'small parts' one by one, she could talk for ten minutes about each one to prove that each of them was 'useful and very useful'.

“I think carrying just two dresses is enough… Why don’t we buy them locally?”

"'I think' is enough—that's too arrogant, Mr. Collins. Men are always like that, always so ignorant and never curious about what's on the other side of the door—do you find that funny? When they need to open a door, they don't care whether the person on the other side is happy or not."

Roland scratched his neck.

These words were beyond his knowledge.

and so…

What are you eating?

"I haven't eaten anything! Roland Collins! You can't keep barging into my room! You—"

After 'you', all words become nonsense.

The girl stammered and struggled as she was pulled around the waist and swept out of the room like the wind. Before leaving, the wind thoughtfully closed the window for her.

Rupert felt like a baby monkey in its mother's arms, swaying between branches: up and down, sometimes his heart was in his throat, sometimes in his gut.

Scary.

Not dignified at all...

insult.

Besides that, besides that.

Rupert, however, also had a feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on: she vaguely remembered, and in her heart, she was certain that she had experienced, touched, and felt such a sensation.

Long, long ago. When she was probably not even as tall as a table. She was afraid of cats and dogs, imagined her maid to be a giant, her brother to be the leader of giants, and her father to be the king of giants.

In that era when gardens seemed to be filled with flowers all year round, and bushes would often mischievously produce extra gloves, socks, and brooches for servants, everyone was always watching their little princess or prince, kissing her cheeks, teasing her by asking her name, and sternly asking her how she ended up in the Benevento family garden.

Her joyful swing traversed the four seasons, with the highest point on one side in a drunken, flourishing dream, and the other side resting in a desolate graveyard covered in knee-deep winter snow.

She gently flicked her fingers, pressing them against the swing chair.

Let it remain forever on the white side.

I want to die, but I also want a man.

It might be even more serious.

At least when the latter is dressed, no one can tell.

But she could no longer hide it. Hiding it was impossible; it was impossible. Those faces, thick with makeup, paled and delicate, like juicy steaks that would flee at the touch of fire. They possessed voices and temperaments untouched by life's hardships, youthful without need for pretense. They were naively innocent, yet their souls were blissfully happy every day…

When a woman realizes this, she is almost certain that she has 'declined'.

So the female protagonist said this:
'I want to die, but I also want a man.'

These two statements are contradictory. Rupert Benevento clearly understood this.

Just like her.

I want to die, but I also want to love.

"...This is unreasonable."

The murmurs mingled with the night breeze and drifted into the gibbon's ear canals.

"What's unreasonable?"

“I am not permitted to leave the manor at night.”

"Maybe your father is getting senile."

"Your father is the one who's senile!"

“He is,” Roland said, grabbing an eagle’s head and swinging himself further away with his arm around Rupert as he fell. “Foolish and romantic, Jam loved him to death—who doesn’t love a foolish and romantic man who does nothing but have fun all day long?”

He listened to the other person's quiet rebuttal and laughed unrestrainedly.

"If you're happy, you should stomp your feet, spin around a few times, muttering 'You've finally come! You've finally come!'—and then sneak out with us like a mouse..."

Rupert's expression was a little strange: "What do you usually read, Mr. Collins?"

"Rose's collection. By the way, she forbids me from peeking, but she didn't say I couldn't read it to me..."

The two monkeys swung across half of the 'castle', talking to each other as they went.

Narrow and centered.

Someone had changed into his bathrobe early, covered himself with a blanket, and lit only an oil lamp next to the bedside table, waiting for Roland Collins to return in defeat.

Theodore knew that Roland would return empty-handed tonight, and he could only hope that he could stay up a little longer and appease this somewhat 'unruly' man—maybe he could persuade him to rest in his room and leave together before dawn...?
This way, although there was no time to say goodbye to Miss Rupert, his very presence would cause trouble…

Mr. Collins is right.

He needs to think about it—

knock knock.

A finger pried open a crack in the window.

"Why are you still in bed?"

Two heads peeked out of the window.

One is free and unrestrained, the other is raging with impotence.

(End of this chapter)