The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1192 Ch.1191 Fino Sees the Dragon

As for what exactly Eva Mondes was, when the four returned to the mayor's small house, they found that the extremely old woman seemed to have recovered a lot of her spirits.

He had prepared a lavish meal in advance, as if he knew they would come.

"I haven't even finished telling the story of the 'dragon,' how can you give up?"

Bruno Mondes smiled and invited them to sit down, stretching out his arm to light the candles on the table.

After Eva Mondes, Roland, and the other three were seated.

The old town mayor finally spoke:
"...I think you all understand, and I'm sure everyone in town understands. They don't worship dragons, do they?"

Theodore said softly, “Yes, sir. I think the ‘dragon’ is probably just a reflection of people’s desire for freedom—”

“No,” Bruno Mondes interrupted without hesitation, “the dragon exists, it slumbers in its dreams, originally…”

Bruno Mondes certainly has the right to speak on dragons.

His grandfather had seen it with his own eyes.

"Back then, he was a nine-year-old boy."

People, animals, weather, books, pebbles.

Anger, accusations, arguments, hatred.

Everything is out of harmony.

Painful, ugly.

All of this, in the summer of Ildussinse—no, back then, this place should still be 'part of Cornwall'.

This summer.

Mr. Mondes ran alongside the summer across the boundless green fields.

I leaned back in the tranquil sunlight on the grass, which was more comfortable than any sofa in the world.

In the joyful butterflies and the wind, in the gentle rustling of the grass in the afternoon, in a dream that is both fleeting and long.

He crossed the waves to the end of the plain to see a dragon.

His curves are straight, angular, or curved; he has two, three, or many eyes; he has scales, or perhaps not; his deep, sharp voice evokes memories of all the happy times we have known.

Deep within Mr. Mondes' soul, before he had even learned the word 'neurotic,' that long nap was already firmly etched into his memory.

'You...what are you?'

'dragon.'

'A dragon? No wonder, I saw… your wings. Should I fear you?'

That depends on you.

'You're quite frightening, I mean, in size. You're too big; people are wary of larger hunting dogs.'

You shouldn't compare me to a hunting dog.

'Then what should I use?'

Nothing can compare to a dragon.

'Even gods...deities won't do?'

Which god?

Mondes carefully sat down at the dragon's feet.

His enormous claws gently closed, and the grass was plowed over a thousand times.

'I only know the Father of All Things, Lord Dragon.'

A long, slow groan came from the dragon's enormous head, and its tail swept gently.

'Something incomplete.'

"Dragon said."

'...What?' Mr. Mondes didn't understand.

'You can sit closer so I can devour you in one bite.' The dragon offered no explanation, but instead narrowed its throat even more maliciously.

This doesn't scare Mondes.

'I'm dreaming! I know where I am!'

"Yes, you don't work, you just run around slacking off." There was a hint of laughter in the dragon's voice.

How did you know?!

'Dragons know everything.'

Mr. Mondes rolled his eyes, propped himself up on his two palms, and slowly moved his bottom backward—towards the dragon's big claws.

He glanced at the boy with his large, dozing eyes, but made no comment.

Mr. Mondes succeeded.

But he still didn't dare to touch it recklessly. He just kept a few inches away, quietly watching this 'terrifying dream monster' whose scales were larger than his own face.

'Knowing everything…' He saw his own face reflected in the smooth scales: 'Then… how many years can I live?'

he asks.

The dragon remained silent for a while.

'strangeness. ’

'My lord?' 'Strange,' the dragon flicked its tail, finally raising its chin and turning around, 'I wouldn't ask such a question.'

He told the boy.

Generally speaking, adults are more concerned with 'lifespan', while children and young people are more concerned with their success and whether they can acquire more wealth in the future.

Mondes Jr. is clearly an exception.

'Then… do you know?' He carefully changed his form of address.

This made Long laugh.

'Of course, a scoundrel.'

"My name is Mundes, Fino Mundes," little Fino said in a light voice. "How should I address you?"

'dragon.'

'That's not a name, sir.' Little Fino shook his head.

'Dragon God.'

'That's not it either—nobody calls themselves "sheriff," right? Even a king has a name and wouldn't let his wife call him "king" in private.'

The dragon fell silent again.

He seems to rarely encounter 'humans' who are stubborn on these issues.

Children and adults are indeed different.

My name is…

He hesitated for a moment.

'You won't live much longer.'

Fino was taken aback: 'Your name is "Not Long to Live"?'

The dragon's voice finally carried some emotion—Little Finno could hear it.

Whenever he was lazy, or when his father threw things around and verbally abused his mother, his mother would speak in that tone.

'I'll make you have nightmares every night.'

"I see you every night?" Little Fino exclaimed in surprise. "You dream about me too?"

"I dream all the time," Long said indifferently.

"My mother always says I like to 'daydream,' which isn't a good word, I know—my father always mocks my mother too, saying she's an ungrateful woman… Lately, many people have disappeared from the village, it seems they've all gone to… somewhere… what place again? What place again, sir?"

The dragon ignored him.

'...How much longer do I have to live?'

Little Fino suddenly asked.

Dragon: 'I thought you didn't care.'

'I care terribly! But… "I won't live too long," maybe that's a long lifespan? Like eighty years?'

Dragon: 'Greed.'

Little Fino: 'Seventy years?'

Dragon: 'Greed.'

Little Fino: '...It can't be only thirty or forty years, can it? I'm only nine, sir.'

The dragon smiled.

'Perhaps even shorter, you little man.'

'I have a name,' Fino Mondes said, a little annoyed. 'Then I'd better hurry…'

The dragon slightly raised its eyelids: 'Looking for more gold?'

"Of course, we need to find a way to cure my father's illness!"

Little Finno said angrily:

My father was gentle, loyal to his friends, kind, and loved his family. Sadly, he wasn't favored by God and suffered a broken back…

Long Jingjing finished her rambling, her golden eyes sparkling:

"So, this is why you came to see me—you're not a lazy bum, and your daily 'nap' is deliberate... Where did you hear about the 'dragon'?"

The sudden revelation of the mystery made little Fino blush.

But it only lasted a few seconds.

He doesn't care.

He had been preparing for this day for so long.

'I did use tricks, sir, but the book my mother's father left behind says that dragons can grant people's wishes…'

The dragon swept its tail.

Of course not.

He said.

Besides, I don't think your idea is that correct.

(End of this chapter)