The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 152 Ch.151 Heyman
A fact that Roland and Shandel had to accept.

Enid was late.

There was no trace of her, Fernandez, or Crow.

They seemed to have forgotten that there were two rookie executives in this salon hosted by cultists - or did they forget about it altogether?

Or maybe they did it on purpose...

In order to kill himself and Shandel Kratov with the help of the cultists?
Roland's eyes were gloomy. He reached deep into his inner pocket, popped open the cork with his thumb, and drank the golden liquid in the glass tube in one gulp using his palm as a cover.

The warmth spreads from the stomach to the whole body.

The evil thoughts that were gradually hatching melted away like ice and snow under the scorching sun.

Roland looked around: when the banquet came to an end, the owner of the salon came out to entertain and see off the guests - this meant that another more private and secret small party was about to begin.

Few people remained at the table.

The servants stood quietly around, with countless eyes scanning over them.

"Luo..."

"My sister, isn't this exactly what we want?" Roland said excitedly, gently pinching Shandel's arm: "Forget what we felt in our dreams? Today, perhaps, we can really see...see...our mother..."

Shandel rolled his eyes and said with a smile: "I hope Ms. Jasmine can give us the answers we want..."

She felt Roland's fingers as they slid across her forearm, across her wrist, and wrote a number on her open palm.

That was the time they agreed upon.

just now.

The number was crossed out and a new number was filled in.

That is: fifteen minutes beyond the agreed time.

Enid was late.

Cinder raised the champagne on the table and glanced around secretly while drinking. In addition to the seven maids (cultists), there were some men and women in gorgeous clothes: plus her and Roland, and the target they were both trying to protect, Mr. Old Benevento.

At this moment, her wrist was gently pinched again.

She saw Roland shaking his head slightly at him.

'Don't draw your gun.'

This was the message he was trying to convey to Chandel.

——If they started a battle in a place like this, they would be shot to pieces by seven... or more cultists in an instant.

Roland didn't want to gamble his life and the lives of his teammates on stupid things like "I don't have the accuracy" or "I dodge fast enough".

As the guests left one after another, the restaurant became deserted.

The familiar pairs stayed together. Obviously, Roland and Shandel were going to their "target".

Not far from Roland and Shandel, there stood a pair of people similar to them.

Both of them were very young, and their faces showed emotions that anyone could see:
Curious and eager to try.

He swished the red wine, not knowing what would happen next. When he saw Roland turn around, he nodded politely, whispered something to the girl next to him, and then walked towards them.

"I'm Andrew Hyman, and that's my sister, Judy Hyman." He showed his eight teeth, introduced himself to Roland, and then led him to the table on the side: her sister Judy Hyman was holding up her skirt and kneeling far away.

"Hello, Mr. Heyman. I'm Evans, Henry Evans, and this is my sister, Eleanor Evans." Roland raised his glass and clinked it with his.

This was the first time for young Andrew Heyman to attend a 'banquet' - and the reason was quite interesting.

The father of one of his friends was once invited to Ms. Jasmine's party.

Two days later.

He 'became younger'.

“…He has a good appetite, is in good health, and is as strong as a young man. He can even arm wrestle with me - Mr. Evans, you may not know that the old man is almost sixty years old this year!” Talking about this magical experience, the young Heyman's face was full of excitement.

"I guess this Ms. Jasmine must be a witch in private, or have witch blood..." He whispered to Roland, "...I don't know what these people want, but I think that no matter how magical the spell is, it can't be achieved without the support of people like us, right?"

"If he gives us convenience, we will give them convenience."

Heyman took a sip of red wine and curled his lips: "My sister and I are still young and don't need 'youth' - besides, I guess this is not completely without cost, otherwise, there would be young people everywhere."

Roland followed up his words and asked: "So, what do you want to ask for?"

"My sister and I both want the same thing."

He looked at Shandel mysteriously, and then spoke in a lighter voice: "...I asked before the banquet, hoping to find a way to 'increase charm' here. The lady agreed."

Roland looked at the young man.

"Let me be frank, Mr. Heyman. You probably don't need this method. In my opinion, no one can ignore your charm..." Halfway through speaking, he turned his head and asked Chandel: "Right? Eleanor?" Chandel lowered his head shyly and nodded slightly.

This made Mr. Heyman very happy.

"Oh, your sister is also the most beautiful person I have ever seen... well, prettier than my sister." He winked: "But if you ask me in person later, I will never admit it."

Roland laughed.

"Is Ms. Jasmine famous?" Shandel suddenly asked. "My brother and I just arrived in London recently, so..."

"Both." Heyman shook his head: "Smart people will not spread Ms. Jasmine's 'magic' everywhere - those who have participated in it know that perhaps the spell that makes people charming and regains youth is not very...legal."

"Or it must be illegal."

"We are all aware of this."

Hyman said.

"But who cares?"

"No fool would report such a good thing to the church or those black crows. Otherwise, if the lady is caught, how can we ..."

He didn't finish his words, but he said everything.

Shandel understood what he meant, raised his glass and clinked it with his.

"You are right, Mr. Heyman. If I have benefited from it, if I have become more attractive and rejuvenated, I would not want to tell this secret to anyone except my closest friends... Oh, let alone report it to the church."

"What can I get? Blessings? Prayers? Or a little gold pound reward that is less than one-tenth of my daily expenses?"

Heyman liked what the young lady said.

He nodded in agreement. "Too many people cannot bear to see those of us who are rich and powerful living better and better. Oh! Forgive me for saying that... I don't want to give you a bad impression. I'm not referring to the church, or the cross of mercy, but..."

"Those black crows who don't obey orders and cause trouble everywhere."

Shandel gently touched Roland's leather shoes with the tip of her shoe hidden in her skirt.

Roland looked normal.

"Look, how do they treat us?"

"I heard that many years ago..." Heyman thought for a moment, as if to confirm the exact time of this incident. "...My father said that at least, at least ten years ago, they did this!"

"Break open the door violently, rush into the house, gather everyone together, and burn them to death!"

"Barbaric! Brutal! Not a trace of civilization at all!"

Heyman was indignant: "I heard from the husband of a friend of my friend's brother's wife that he had a friend who worked in that terrible place. Within half a year, he became insane, like a madman, speaking coldly every day, and no longer loved his family. He was unwilling to have lunch with friends or chat about anything."

"He has become a completely unsociable, cold-blooded weirdo."

When talking about this person, Andrew Heyman's angry face showed a little more fear.

"…That place makes people not human anymore. Sir, Miss, you must be careful and never have anything to do with those black crows."

Andrew Heyman named the name.

"The Inquisition. But we all call it the 'Crow's Nest.'" He said, "These crazy people have gotten better in recent years. Under the control of us and the church."

Speaking of recent years, speaking of "restraint", Andrew Heyman's face lit up slightly.

"Weirds also need pounds, and they need to eat and drink. You know, we can hire a weirdo to serve us for only five or six pounds a week - but if we want them to leave the nest completely and just guard the family, we have to raise the price."

"Ten per week, they can beat five or six of my strongest servants."

"Fifteen per week. We can hire a sharpshooter. I've seen one when I was hunting. One of my good friends has a Black Crow hired at home. With our errands, we can earn much more than we did in the Inquisition."

Roland's smile gradually faded.

"Pardon my ignorance, sir." He asked softly, "The name Heyman should be very famous, right?"

"Of course, you can ask anyone who has insight." Heiman paused: "Of course, I'm not saying that you don't have insight - after all, you and your sister have just come to the greatest city in the world. You just arrived, right?"

"You have plenty of time to appreciate its greatness in detail, and also plenty of time to get to know its great families."

He was complacent, but never rudely showed off his family and surname, only hinting to Roland that their family was related to the "coal mine".

"I think in a few years, there won't be any place like that anymore."

He didn't know why, but he sighed.

"The Church doesn't like the Inquisition, and neither do we. Look at the people in this city, do they like it?"

“Nobody likes them.”

"If you were those black crows today, I'm afraid this party would be completely ruined." Heiman shook his head: "This spell is beneficial to us, why should it be banned?"

(End of this chapter)