The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1176 (Ch.1175) Crime
Gems don't grow legs to squeeze themselves into bells—they don't necessarily need to reproduce or kill time, and like humans, they enjoy filling and being filled.

A gem is a gem, unless some clever child uses some metal object to pry open the bell, take the jingling one inside, and replace it with a priceless gem they've stolen...

Wait until we get off the bus?
Or are there any other opportunities?

Since he did this, he would definitely have a chance to get it back—after all, everyone saw that the golden-haired beast was very familiar with the child.

"Take them away."

The patrol officer waved, signaling for the woman and her son to be taken to another carriage to settle their affairs; however, the onlookers lost interest in the 'settlement' part. Generally speaking, the severity of a theft charge depends on the value of the stolen goods—

A penny is clearly not the same as a jewel.

The former might only take a few hits, while the latter would face a rope that could break their vertebrae.

A priceless sapphire.

They silently watched the trembling woman being escorted by two train conductors, casting gloating glances at her.

At this moment, they suddenly 'realized' that they were human beings and should not sympathize with animals.

—They should have been 'as expected' long ago. What good can poor people do? Even poor people's children are no exception. Through inheriting some inexplicable substance from their parents' blood, they gradually become distorted, commit evil, and have no morality whatsoever.

“It’s up to you.” The patrol officer glanced at the fat businessman, gesturing for him to follow them to the other carriage.

What happens on a train that keeps moving forward depends more on the outcome of the events—the impact of a tsunami and a small wave are not the same.

"Of course, of course."

The portly merchant nodded and carefully stuffed the sapphire into his flamboyant leather pouch: a colorful purse resembling a bird's feather pouch dyed in seven or eight different colors, as he led his guards.

At that moment, a hand reached out from the crowd.

"Is the trial open to the public?"

“Mr. Collins?” Theodore asked in a low voice, tugging at Roland’s arm.

That's impolite.

Whatever the outcome, everything that happens afterward is extremely personal. Respectable people won't meddle, let alone offer inappropriate opinions—he grabbed Roland's arm, suddenly realizing that this man wasn't exactly a 'respectable person' either…

The portly merchant paused for a moment, looked the group up and down, and almost immediately broke into an incredibly friendly smile: "Oh dear! I was just worried about having two bottles of fine wine to share!"

Rupert lowered his head silently and hid in Theodore's shadow.

Ashamed.

…………

……

It was called a 'trial,' but in reality, they just found a separate carriage and a separate room, made the trembling woman sit down, and held her child tightly.

The train conductor stood guard at the door, the patrol officer sat in the middle, and the fat merchant and his guard sat at the other end—the rest of the chairs were given to Roland and his group of 'nosy' guests.

Rupert was not wrong.

Theodore thought.

It's really a bit embarrassing.

“I suggest you hand them over to the local police at the next stop, sir. I think they will make a fairer judgment—even if it’s only based on the minimum value of the gems.”

The patrol officer remained indifferent, even when faced with a woman who looked like a frozen bird or a child who was skin and bones.

Stealing is stealing.

"...I'm sick."

The boy muttered something to himself, glaring resentfully at the patrol officer.

He was furious that his 'scheme' had been discovered by the adults, and there was not a trace of remorse in his eyes—that was enough to warrant a heavier sentence for him.

The patrol officer smiled knowingly, his scarred face contorting into a grimace: "Who's sick?"

he asks.

"My mother."

"Your mother is sick, seriously ill."

"It's...it's...a serious illness."

"It can't be cured."

"It'll cure you!" the boy suddenly raised his voice. "But it'll cost a lot of money!"

"Whose money is this?" the patrol officer asked casually. The boy was silent for a moment, then said, "It doesn't matter whose money it is..."

The patrol officer's voice was slightly hoarse, and his constantly leaning forward made the boy feel even more intimidated.

"Then it's best to pick a rich person to steal from. Especially someone who looks like a bad guy who's taking 'good people's money'... Poor people always have this eye. In their eyes, every penny of a rich person who's richer than them is 'bad money'..."

"Only those who are poor can be poor openly and honestly, right?"

Interestingly, the boy was neither angered nor ashamed by these words; he remained unusually calm and looked directly into those narrow eyes.

"Money is neither good nor bad, sir. On the street where my mother and I live, there are often ladies distributing porridge—the poor also kill, and they also strip other men's wives of their clothes—"

As he said this, his mother patted him on the back.

He immediately shut his mouth.

“…I just want money, sir. Whose money, good or bad…I just want money.” The boy mumbled a few words, then turned to the fat merchant who had squeezed himself into a chair, bowing awkwardly: “…I apologize, sir. I stole your jewel and was trying to hide it…”

He turned to Roland's side, only then remembering that the group of handsome men were 'spectators'.

An apology stuck in my throat.

"You... compliment your face."

Roland gave him a slight bow: "You are quite handsome and clever, young sir. Don't you think that hound was laughing more happily than most people in the carriage?"

The boy's eyes lit up, and he wanted to say something, but his mother slapped him again.

Patrol officer: ...

Theodore: ...

This person is really...

The fat businessman was not as angry as the train conductor or the onlookers.

He patted his chubby eyelids a few times, his face glistening with oil and a teasing expression: "Tell me, kid, when did you steal it, and how do you plan to get the gem back?"

The boy first glanced at his mother, then at the patrol officer.

The other person ignored him, pulled out a crumpled hand-rolled cigarette from his inner pocket, lit it, and started puffing away.

The boy said he didn't actually 'steal' the fat merchant's gems.

He wandered between the carriages, intending to steal a wallet or some scraps from women's skirts to sell after he got off the train.

Coincidentally, he found a gemstone in the seam between the carriages—

Yes, he found it.

No matter how skilled the boy was, he didn't think he could get past the guards and reach the jeweled Mr. Ball.

Rose will definitely succeed.

Roland thought.

"That sounds reasonable. So, what about the hunting dogs?"

"I learned it from someone," the boy said cautiously.

He found an easy-going dog and made a deal, saying that he had even more delicious food on hand when they stopped at the next station, as long as it came.

The hound, of course, agreed.

"Dog training?"

The fat businessman raised his hand to interrupt:
"Who did you learn from?"

“The old carpenter in town,” the boy said frankly, “is not difficult if you put your mind to it…”

This way, they can avoid being searched.

嗏

It's not difficult?
The fat merchant raised an eyebrow: "But you did steal my things. Kid, according to the law, you have to be hanged—do you know what hanging is? A rope is wrapped around your neck." He gestured with his fat hand around his neck.

"Hanging on the wooden frame, with the board pulled from your feet... you'll struggle and struggle like a fish on a chopping board... and then..."

The woman was terrified, clutching the hem of her robe and pleading, "Stop talking! Sir! Please stop talking! I'll do anything for you!"

The portly businessman clicked his tongue and waved his hand, "Oh dear, I'm afraid of catching a disease."

(End of this chapter)