The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1175 (Ch.1174) The Bell and the Hound

Without a doubt, the valuable sapphire should be the responsibility of those in the lower-class carriages—not because of their wealth, but because, according to the portly jeweler, he had only ever stayed in the connecting area between the middle-class and two lower-class carriages.

It's impossible for Sapphire to grow legs and run into Theodore's carriage by itself, right?
The patrol officer asked him to describe the shape, size, and weight of the gem in detail, while asking questions in turn: questions that he had rehearsed in his mind. More, more complicated, and more intimidating questions were left to the passengers in the lower-class carriages.

But after he completely ruled out the suspicion of the passengers in the first two carriages, they were unwilling to leave.

They wanted to see who the culprit was.

However, after searching them, the gemstone was still not found.

"Shameless! They actually think they're safe just because a curtain is drawn!" The young woman in the middle carriage nestled in her husband's arms, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, and muttered softly, "If it were me, I would jump off the train right now!"

Her husband hugged her and whispered words of comfort, saying that no one but him could search her body.

—Perhaps they said something else as well.

He quickly made his wife giggle quietly.

Rupert subtly turned his face away.

Of course, no one wanted to lose their dignity, but considering the intimidation from the patrolling police, the men and women in this lower-class carriage kept their heads down and followed instructions to walk in two lines behind the male and female train attendants' "curtains," allowing them to see them clearly.

A problem has arisen.

There are no sapphires, rubies, or emeralds.

There wasn't even a piece of gold the size of a fingernail.

The patrol officer tapped on the butt of his gun, his heels clattering against the car floor.

He sniffed, and as his gaze swept over a pale-faced woman, something suddenly occurred to him. He turned to the train conductor behind him and asked:
How many pets are in the car?

The train conductor paused for a moment, then quickly turned around to look at the woman behind him.

The woman did the same thing, continuing the relay until she passed the baton of eye contact to the man next to the train conductor.

"...Cough, I remember someone, someone wrote it in the notebook."

The patrol officer squinted: "Who?"

The train conductor's assistant blinked: "There's someone."

"What book?"

"There's always... there's always a notebook."

great.

No one kept records of this vehicle—not of the passengers, their pets, or their luggage.

These also reveal another problem.

The patrol officer was newly transferred.

He was clearly unaware of the usual practices on this vehicle.

“I think the Queen has lost her crown, and the crown has lost the Queen—or even if someone’s mother has lost hers, you should be able to absolve yourself of all responsibility.” His words perfectly matched his appearance, showing neither respect to others nor any leeway for himself.

It was like giving the train crew a hard time in front of everyone in the carriage.

The train conductor's old face was visibly red.

“There’s no such rule! We’ve never had such a rule! Rude! It’s simply… simply… Don’t you know we are ‘not authorized’ to illegally record and count guests’ luggage and pets?”

The patrol officer scoffed: "'Illegal record'? What do you mean by illegal record? If there's an illegal record, then there must be a legal record, right? Where are our legal records? Are we going to 'legally record' things only after someone loses something and we confirm a group of thieves have infiltrated the car? I think it should be called a 'legal inventory'!"

Without waiting for a reply, he asked the train conductor who had been following him to go to the pet carriage and instructed him to pay special attention to the 'dogs'.

The curious guests exchanged bewildered glances as the patrol officer stepped onto the platform of his vehicle and approached the pale-faced woman—her son, only seven or eight years old, had his bright eyes darting around and his hands hidden beneath his mother's loose robe.

"...Take it out, you little bastard."

"W-what? Sir? This is my child..." The woman coughed a few times, her battered body rustling as if a winter wind were blowing through it. "My child...but..."

“Nobody said he wasn’t,” the patrol officer knelt down in front of her and stared quietly into the boy’s eyes. “I said: Take your hands out of your mother’s robe.”

"You've already been searched—"

“Now, take your child’s hand out,” the patrol officer said sternly. “Right now.” He finally angered the onlookers.

How could you do this?! That's just a child!

"Even thieves deserve dignity! Sir! You are unworthy of the power we have given you!"

"Let her rest. Can't you tell she's sick?"

The humans who had stayed outside the enclosure to watch the spectacle, who considered themselves superior, suddenly began to feel sympathy for the animals they saw.

People are truly fickle.

The patrol officer remained unmoved, as if the noise, like a cold wind seeping in through the gaps in the car, made his messy hair stand on end.

He kept a close eye on the increasingly nervous boy.

Until the train conductor's shouts rang out from afar:
"Quickly! Stop it! By the grace of God!"

Everyone turned around.

A golden hunting dog with a hanging bell knocked over a low table by the aisle, and galloped like a wild bull, its face beaming as it passed through the curious long skirts of each gentleman, eliciting gasps of surprise from the ladies.

It weaved through the crowd, wagging its tail wildly, causing trouble along the way in a friendly manner.

For a while.

Screams, laughter, shouts, the sounds of tables and chairs being moved and clattering, and apologies mingled together.

The golden retriever passed by Roland's legs, hesitated, looked up at the strange-smelling man, sniffed hard with its big nose, and after much deliberation, continued running towards its destination—the patrol officer's legs.

No.

To be precise, it was the approximate location where the patrol officer crouched down; in reality, he was looking for the pale woman's son.

The surroundings suddenly became quiet.

They stared as the hound nudged the woman's robe with its nose, ignoring their attempts to shoo it away and shout at it, relentlessly pulling out what was hidden beneath the robe: a handful of dried meat chopped into small pieces from the boy's hand.

The crowd burst into laughter, cursing the greedy beast and saying that its owner should have been more attentive. But the patrol officer stroked the hound's fur with his hand, and with a gentle pinch of his thumb and forefinger, removed its gray and white checkered collar.

He raised it.

He spun around in front of everyone.

Swaying.

Ring ring.

Swaying.

dong dong.

"The bell doesn't sound like that."

Rupert suddenly spoke.

The patrol officer grinned and shook the car.

The golden bell under the collar made a dull 'dong' sound.

Now, the onlookers finally realized what was happening.

They stared at the patrol officer's rough, calloused hands as he effortlessly crushed the golden bell, which already had a half-open tear in it, like squeezing a piece of fruit peel, ripping off the two halves, and scooping out a blue...

"Sapphire! My sapphire! By Your Majesty! I almost lost it!"

The fat merchant snatched it away and held it in his hands; Roland even felt like he was about to cry.

"Lost and found! Lost and found! Sir! I salute you! You deserve any praise!"

The patrol officer lazily tossed off the collar and looked at the somewhat bewildered boy.

"How did the gem end up in the bell? You little bastard."

(End of this chapter)