The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 117 Ch.116 Eternal Lies
The rustling sound and the crackling of flames drifted slowly.

A warm room in winter makes people drowsy.

The cat man, who had no tasks today, wrapped himself in a blanket and took a nap on the newly bought sofa.

The owner of the drugstore was working at his desk:
Writing to a woman far away in Fork County.

——After he "intercepted" a letter from Yam, the calculating old man naturally couldn't let Roland spend money to find a "ghostwriter".

The job of writing letters became his.

'How much money is wasted on ghostwriting?'

In the letter, he stated that he was Roland's "uncle", and talked about Roland's recent situation and how he treated him well.

In short, the two people frequently communicated with each other through letters:

At the beginning, the topic was indeed all about Roland.

But gradually...

I don’t know who attracted whom.

There was less and less information about Roland's daily life in the letters, but they became more and more familiar with each other.

Once, Roland even caught a glimpse of a short poem attached to it...
-
I was wondering why my two handwritten poetry collections had 'disappeared'.

"Are you feeling a bit complicated?"
-
A little.

"Ha Qiu."

Roland sneezed.

Old Collins raised his eyes and said, "If you feel sleepy, go upstairs and sleep. If you get sick from the cold, you'll have to spend money to treat it."

"I am not sleepy."

"You're just like those cats on the eaves. No one cares about you. You can sleep twenty hours a day."

Old Collins rubbed his shoulders and put down his pen: "...I heard that you recently caught a 'cultist'?"

Roland tightened the blanket as if nothing had happened: "Mr. Devinson caught it."

"Don't lie to me, I heard everything from Anna."

Old Collins walked around the counter, picked up the teapot from the stove, sat down next to Roland, and refilled his hot tea.

White mist billowed out of the spout.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, but spend less time with those dirty kids and go to the old dog and duck. I'm counting on you to buy a house in a good area one day."

Old Collins kept on talking, criticizing his neighbors for this and that, completely unaware that he also lived here.

Then, he warned Roland not to take advantage of his "status" to show off and be punished by his superiors.

Go to less places with bad reputations and have less contact with more bad people.

Let him try to follow the right path and interact with the upper class people.

Ask him to take care of his health.

Especially the waist.

When you are still young, the consumption is too high, when you are old, it will be difficult, etc.

"I can't say a few serious words."

"I know."

Roland moved his butt to the side and leaned against the back of the sofa in an ungraceful manner.

"The couch is so comfortable, uncle."

"Nonsense," Old Collins glared, "because you're sitting on a pile of money."

When he mentioned the sofa, his heart began to twitch.

Roland bought it.

It's just too expensive.

This child has no idea how to save money. If he gets married one day and finds a woman who also doesn't know how to save money, their lives will become more and more difficult.

Ugh.

Fortunately, I have him to look after, and I can teach him more while he is still alive.

"This sofa is of no use at all. We should save the money, Roland."

Old Collins kept muttering to himself while enjoying the comfortable sofa.

Roland raised the corners of his mouth slightly and covered his face with the blanket.

"You have to listen. Do you know how many years I have lived? I am familiar with life, every street nearby, and the price of everything."

"…Buy a sofa today, and tomorrow you'll have to buy a rug, a lampshade, a good candle, and soap. I'm not being stingy, it's just that life, Roland, you have to learn to calculate… Roland? Roland?"

Roland didn't move.

Old Collins, with a dark face, drew back the blanket from his head.

"…Ro…Fuck!"

Someone rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and acted as if he was suffocating to death, which almost scared the old man into cardiac arrest.

"You little bastard."

Old Collins punched Roland on the shoulder, then burst into a chuckle after trying to hold it back for a long time.

"You can't just listen."

Roland snatched the blanket back and wrapped it around his neck. "I'm listening, uncle. But that's the money I earned, I should be able to spend it myself, right?" Old Collins opened his mouth.

indeed.

"You can't sit on that chair every day. The legs are loose. How many times have you repaired it? It's troublesome to move it around. With a sofa, you can sit here comfortably after work every day, drink a cup of tea or wine, eat a few bites, and take a nap..."

Old Collins was silent.

A chill slid across his skin and surged up his head, making his eyes sore.

He turned his face away and scratched the back of his head.

Crunch.

"…I know you've been good to me, Roland. I'm also thinking about you. If you save this money, it will add up to a lot - you can't live here forever like me."

"If I die, who will take care of you?"

Roland yawned again: "…Let's talk about it after you die."

Paul Collins: …

Didn't anyone teach this little bastard how to speak properly?

"Many people asked me what happened to those kids..." Old Collins made small talk, staring at the red fireplace. "The church... I mean, you guys, won't kill him?"

"Those kids just moved in. Even though they have dirty mouths...how can anyone who lives here be clean?"

"Young people are all like this. They only learn to restrain themselves after being beaten."

Roland shook his head slightly.

"Uncle, no. I'm just going to teach them a lesson - lock them up for a few days to scare these scoundrels who are bolder than the sky. What do you think?"

Prince Collins uttered a grunt.

"It's okay to lock him up for a few days."

His uncle was concerned about the neighborhood relationship and Roland's future popularity, but Roland didn't think so.

The Cherry Chloe thing...

Taught him a lot.

Mr. Aibo and his companions, parents and family were indeed only locked up for 'a few days'.

Just thirty 'days'.

At that time, Fernandez will issue a certificate of "suspected cultists but no evidence was found after examination" - that is, this is a normal, routine inspection. They are lucky that no problems were found, and they can go away after serving time in jail and paying the money.

Several months in prison.

I hope they can spend a full and warm winter in the cold and damp prison, and then come out to face the few remaining pockets and the good reputation of "suspected cultists".

“Recently, Benevento has been all over the newspapers.”

' said Puhu Collins suddenly.

Chloe's murder case has caused a lot of buzz, and there's no way he wouldn't be aware of it.

Roland stared at the flickering candlelight in silence.

“That’s also…”

Old Collins thought for a moment: "Bad news?"

In order to maintain the reputation and dignity of the deceased, the newspapers only speculated on the cause of death and did not elaborate on the "conditions of death" - for example, in what state, in what position, and in what appearance the two people died.

However, newspapers are no match for the articulate lips that were present.

This story was very popular, more popular than Cherry Chloe's.

The law cannot judge two dead bodies.

Words are fine.

For example - people are extremely keen on discussing the size difference between these two upper-class people and these lower-class people.

Then, be complacent.

'Half a spoonful, less than two inches - be my goodness! Even women know that two inches can do nothing!'

In short, the rumors are getting stranger and stranger.

Old Collins stroked the weed-like beard on his chin.

"Thank you, uncle." Roland lowered his eyes.

"We are a family, Roland." Old Collins gently lifted the blanket and held Roland's hand. There was nothing but sincerity in his cloudy eyes: "Promise me, Roland. After I lost my son, I will not lose you again."

His hands, which were covered with calluses from grinding medicine and cutting thorns all day long, would feel a slight stinging sensation on the back of his hands when he grabbed them.

"Promise me, Roland."

Old Collins seemed to notice something.

Maybe a little.

But he would never dare to 'let himself believe', and he would never ask Roland.

He just wants a lie to last forever.

"Promise me."

He said.

Roland smiled gently and shook Puxiu Collins' hand in return: "I promise you, uncle."

(End of this chapter)