The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1168 (Ch.1167) - Losing Face

"Go on a trip my ass."

On a sunny day, one should be in a good mood.

Especially the 'son of Benevento,' who was well-educated and whose moral character and manners were far superior to those of ordinary people—yet she still couldn't help but swear.

She pointed at Roland like a shrew, her finger swaying like a conductor's baton in her anger.

Roland asked worriedly, "Theodore, is she sick?"

“I think it’s anger, Mr. Collins. For example, someone invites her to go somewhere, but when she gets to the station she realizes she forgot to buy a ticket… I mean, for example.”

No need for examples.

Roland simply forgot—

"At least I didn't forget to buy my own."

Still making excuses!

Rupert wished he could sew his perpetually righteous mouth shut: "If it weren't for your maid! If it weren't for her! You wouldn't even have your own!"

“…What you said makes sense?” Roland frowned, then turned to Harida and asked, “How could you forget to buy tickets for Mr. Thackeray and Miss Lulu?”

Now they're blaming the maid?

He's really not a good person.

Rupert was furious—because it was so embarrassing!

That's so embarrassing!!
She was dressed beautifully and charmingly, and as she helped Theodore, she walked into the platform with Roland and her maid: they... were undoubtedly her, her own face, her attire, and her striking presence, which attracted the attention of travelers from the entrance to the platform.

Rupert Benevento was happy with both men and women.

She attracted attention, and one could always hear whispers as people passed by praising her elegance and beauty.

What a beautiful day, isn't it?
She was about to board a rumbling steam train to experience the life of a lower class in a faraway place…

It might be an interesting adventure.

At least better than the cramped rooms in London?

It was originally beautiful.

original.

Until she (in her opinion) straightened her bowler hat under the spotlight, moved her chin to the correct position as instructed by her teacher, walked briskly to the ticket inspector, slightly bent her knees, nodded, and said, "Good day, sir..."

She stared blankly at his calloused palm.

His rough palms revealed the ticket inspector's impoverished and difficult life, and also suggested that he may have had a tragic and uneasy childhood.

As he grows up, chewing on bread mixed with grit and wall plaster, and enters adolescence, he will likely face another great calamity:

A disastrous emotion.

He was destined to fall in love with a noblewoman, and she, in turn, fell in love with him. They would always meet unexpectedly, on the way to some destination, for a few fleeting minutes of cuddling, their breaths warming each other's frozen hearts…

What a pity.

Such stories always have a regretful ending.

They were separated. Because of societal norms, because of various forms of disapproval, because of reasons they both perhaps knew in their hearts—and then, the ticket inspector's hands developed more and more calluses.

He began to exert himself to the utmost, pushing himself to the limit every day until he was completely worn out.

How long will this painful period of his life last?

This continued until someone truly helped him appeared—his superior, a benefactor who had introduced him to the job of a ticket inspector on the steam train…

The romantic Miss Rupert's mind was scattered; she could see all sorts of stories, all sorts of fragments, in those calloused hands…

There wasn't a single train ticket in sight.

ticket.

"Where's the ticket?!" "Good day, ma'am. Thank you for your help."

The ticket inspector also bowed to her; the well-informed young woman's imitation was quite convincing—but now was not the time to nitpick.

Rupert was extremely anxious.

She fiddled with her sleeves, her eyes darting to the other side as she searched for Theodore and Roland in the crowd.

Where can you find her in such a short time? She's not some seasoned brothel regular.

After a while, even if the passengers behind him didn't say anything, the ticket inspector couldn't stand it anymore.

His pitiful, suffering face, which should have been held and cherished by a woman, soon became repulsive in Rupert's eyes, just like the faces of many poor people.

He tore off his 'disguise,' and his saliva undoubtedly carried a strong smell of mercenary savagery.

An unpleasant stench.

How could she imagine that this person had a painful past?

He must have been a hoodlum since childhood, bullying people, cats and dogs, and street vendors.

He wanted nothing more than to bully everyone around him, and then seize the opportunity to use his fists and schemes to take over the ticket inspector's position—the back of that uniform might very well be soaked in the blood of innocent people…

"Ticket, ma'am."

This further confirmed Rupert's 'view' on him: this guy must have been a scoundrel in the past.

Who put him in the ticket inspector's position?

If it frightens a girl who rarely goes out, or a young master from a wealthy family, who will take responsibility?
Rupert opened his mouth, and the ticket inspector, seeing this, immediately stopped and pretended to listen attentively to what Rupert was about to say:
Rupert had nothing to say.

She could only pretend to touch the vertical pockets on both sides of her waist, then pat the chest pocket with her fingertips and then touch her pants pocket.

Feigning surprise:
"Father of all things! I may have forgotten that little red rascal on my desk! Lazy Mary! She didn't even remind me! Nor did she make any arrangements for me! Benefactor, I may miss this train—"

She imitated the actors' silhouettes from the play script, hoping not only to fool the ticket collector, but also because of the long queue behind her: scorching gazes were fixed on the back of her head, their hats flipped up.

How could she not have a train ticket?

We need to find a 'reasonable' explanation—the reasonable explanation is that the servant made a mistake, embarrassing her master who always trusted her.

This was the best solution Rupert Benevento could think of.

It's the only way.

She rummaged around quietly, taking off a gray glove.

After preparing himself thoroughly, he gave the ticket inspector a standard smile, albeit one that remained impeccably polite despite his flustered state: "...It seems my servant must have made a mistake, sir. What's even more disappointing is that this isn't the first time; I need to teach her a lesson...I specifically told her to put that little red note in my coat pocket..."

She considered herself to be well-mannered. A girl who had been immersed in high society for many years should naturally have ample manners and a slightly awkward tone—she rarely interacted with lower-class people and rarely faced ticket inspectors alone.

Rupert believed her performance was as flawless as her face.

To her surprise, none of the passengers in the queue behind her spoke up for her or cracked a joke to soothe the anxious and uneasy heart of this lady.

No.

Not only that, but what happened next...

She heard the most humiliating sentence of her life.

“This…Miss…”

The ticket inspector, feigning embarrassment, bowed slightly and glanced at Rupert, pausing briefly.

"The train tickets have a new design since last month..."

With a bad feeling in his heart, Rupert calmly said:

"The ticket is blue."

(End of this chapter)