The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1177 (Ch.1176) Dave Lawrence

The fat merchant's demeanor and actions finally enraged the boy—he could hardly bear to hear someone mocking his mother like that.

"Then hang me! I wouldn't be a real man if I begged for mercy even a single word!"

“There’s no ‘plea for mercy’ when hanging is carried out, kid,” the fat merchant sneered. “Your bones will be broken in an instant… You’ve got some guts, haven’t you? Or are you not old enough to fear death yet? What’s wrong with your mother?”

The boy was like an angry bull that couldn't turn back, his eyes red, unable to react for a moment.

"W-what?"

"I asked, what illness does your mother have?"

“…Winter Wind, sir.”

“Oh, I think I understand now. ‘Winter wind’…you people are quite creative,” the fat merchant said slowly, rubbing his fingers together, the gleaming jewels making one squint. “I can find a doctor for your mother…to be honest, this illness isn’t difficult to treat.”

"But I asked!" the boy exclaimed urgently, "They said it's incredibly rare! At least seven or eight gold pounds!"

In the next few years, you'll be lucky if you can steal enough treasure to repay the principal and interest.

The fat merchant smiled strangely: "For the poor, it costs seven or eight gold pounds. For others... it's not so."

The boy was silent.

"'Mother, oh Mother. I would gladly take up my lance and gallop through iron and blood to win you victory; I would hang myself on a silver rack and wear my feet raw to beg for your mercy; yet I am a disobedient one, filled with rage, I draw my sword and dare to conquer the ocean—Mother, what do you want?'"

The fat businessman read it aloud in his slick, undulating tone.

"My mother was as silent as midnight. She was silent in life, and her tombstone is silent. Silence, just as it is now, as I silently gaze at my sleeping child on the bed."

The boy couldn't understand.

The pale-faced woman began to sob softly.

After showing off his level of education, the portly businessman finally delivered his 'verdict':
“You stole my things, son. Stealing should be punished—I have a sugar factory in London, and you'll be working there next month…”

The boy stood there dumbfounded: "But my mother's illness..."

“The fee will be deducted from your weekly wage.” The fat businessman snapped his fingers, and a servant handed him a small card: “This is the address. My name is Lawrence, Dave Lawrence, Candy Dave, Old Dave, Fat Larry, call me whatever you like.”

He said.

"Use your clever brain more."

Clutching the card, the boy finally shed tears befitting a tough guy.

He almost knelt on the floor, shouting with joy that "Mother is saved"—but he didn't. He considered himself a little man, a mature and strong master, and that in the future he would find a gentle and proper girl and bring ten or eight servants for his mother.

He never shouted in a trembling voice, nor did he wipe his snot everywhere.

"Oh. You have a kind heart."

The patrol officer finished his cigarette, threw it on the floor, and stubbed it out with the tip of his boot.

After finishing his business, he prepared to leave.

"If I'm not mistaken, your last job was on the battlefield."

The fat businessman raised his eyelids slightly.

These words put the patrol officer on high alert. He warily glanced at the guards behind the businessman, a deep slit appearing between his eyebrows:
"None of your business, businessman."

“You have lost the battle, yet you are more arrogant than the victors.”

"What do you know?! Damn it! Many of my brothers died on the battlefield, and their families didn't even have a penny! If it weren't for us—"

He was more like an enraged bull than the boy.

The portly businessman nodded in agreement, his chin puffing out in several layers.

“You’re right, soldier. I don’t think one patrolman is enough to cover up the blood and tears… How about working for me? I’ll give you triple your weekly wage.”

He tilted his head back and looked at the man who was getting up to leave:
"Whether the Empire has failed you, or you have failed the Empire—it doesn't matter, soldiers. Dave Lawrence will not fail anyone, and I think you've seen that, haven't you?"

The other person narrowed their eyes: "You don't lack people to do your bidding."

"We don't lack people to do our bidding, but we lack truly skilled people... You must have no grudge against money, right?"

The patrol officer stared at him sullenly for a while, then said in a low voice that he needed to think about it, and rushed out of the car like the wind.

“He’ll agree…” the fat businessman muttered.

There's no reason for you to refuse me...

A brilliant passage.

"Is it worth the embarrassment?" Roland whispered to Theodore.

The carriage is only this big.

No one is deaf.

"Oh dear! This is not shameful, sir. I haven't yet had the pleasure of asking you all—"

They introduced themselves to each other; both being from London, they should have some connection.

Of course, Rupert can't say what his last name is.

“Rupert Thackeray, this is my brother, Theodore Thackeray…and Roland Collins, we are traveling, sir.”

Rupert believed that as long as they concealed their surnames, no one would notice anything amiss—Thackeray was not a 'noble' surname, nor was Collins.

But she undoubtedly underestimated someone.

“Roland…Roland Collins…Collins…Golden Rose…Collins…” Dave murmured, his eyes growing brighter as he looked at Roland: “Roland Collins! By your grace! You are the Golden Rose! You are Collins of the Inquisition! Collins with black hair and golden eyes!”

“If possible, I’d prefer a nickname like ‘London’s Cold-Blooded Warrior’…” Roland muttered.

Rupert: ...

I should have told him I was Benevento.

The fat businessman almost struggled to stand up from his chair, insisting on shaking Roland's hand firmly.

"Damn it! Get me off that chair! I need to shake hands with Mr. Collins! Do you even know who he is?! He's a benefactor! With Mr. Collins around, I could fill the whole carriage with jewels and it wouldn't be a problem! Hurry up, Tom!"

The servants and guards hurriedly pulled the person out of the chair.

This finally fulfilled his dream of shaking hands.

—This action is really quite funny.

"I had no idea I was so 'famous'."

"What a fine character! You're too modest! Who doesn't know your name?" Dave Lawrence rambled on, "When it comes to the court, besides that high and mighty sir, you're the best!"

Roland said he hoped for a 'good reputation,' and the fat businessman quickly chimed in, saying how could there be a bad reputation?

They chatted for a bit, and both sides were somewhat surprised: the two groups were headed to the same place.

They were both from London and were also going to that small gold mining town in Cornwall.

"...Fate! Fate has favored me!"

Rupert was annoyed by the man's overreaction.

Such behavior indicates a social class that looks back even when taking a seat.

"I heard that all the mines in that town have been completely drained. What are you going there for?" Roland inquired.

“Oh dear, who said it’s all dug up? Maybe quite a lot was left! Mr. Collins, as a businessman, you have to take risks even if there’s only the slightest possibility…” Dave said, then sighed again, “It wasn’t just me, sir. Let me tell you, this isn’t the first time there’s been a thief today. The story is really complicated.”

He said that he was originally invited to accompany several more powerful men on the survey.

result.

Unfortunately, those people had their tickets stolen by pickpockets while they were on the platform.

My benefactor is above all!
There are thieves stealing train tickets?!

"They have to wait for the next train... I have no way of persuading them to sit in the middle or lower class... Oh dear! If I had met you earlier, this would never have happened!"

Roland silently turned his face away.

'If we had met earlier, you might not have even been able to get on the bus.' Rupert sneered inwardly.

(End of this chapter)