The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 187 Ch.186 Butterfly
When Halida stepped into the living room again, she had been helped by Theresa and the maids to change into new clothes - perhaps only Bronte noticed...

Sally is gone.

Theresa didn't explain the skirt in detail because she knew Roland couldn't see it.

"…gentlemen."

Halida cried out timidly, twisted her hands under her belly, lowered her head, and dared not say a word.

She was wearing a light gold one-line dress.

Her black hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck and fell to her waist.

He had deep brows and a pair of light silver eyes above his high nose bridge, which looked very distant under the light.

It seems that she shouldn't be so cowardly.

She should be a plant growing in the forest or the ocean, ready to face fangs and storms at any time. She should absorb nutrients from the bulging muscles and stretch her branches and leaves in the waves and swords.

"Ms. Halida."

She was invited to take a seat, and then only Theresa, Bronte, Roland, and a sister who pretended to be her brother were left in the living room.

Roland introduced Beatrice to Halida and said that since she had made an appointment with the ice doctor, she should at least leave an address, otherwise, how should she be notified?

"...Mr. Lyle's circus will be here for a long...time."

She carefully considered every word, fearing that the curse would suddenly pop up and cause trouble again.

I met a big shot today.

Great.

Brother, there must be hope.

"Can I wait for your news at the circus?"

"Of course, I like the Mud Ball Circus. It's really interesting." Roland didn't say that he liked her "performance". He skipped the part about the freak show and instead talked about the lions going through the fire ring, the parrots that could understand commands, and the dogs that could line up.

Talking about the circus, Halida felt much more relaxed.

She was less nervous and fluently introduced to Roland the troubles that the parrot caused in daily life and the monkey that caused trouble everywhere.

Beatrice listened with great interest.

Theresa quietly left the table at some point, leaving Bronte alone in the living room.

Halida said this, and Beatrice and Roland listened quietly.

As time went by, the brown-skinned girl gradually realized that something was wrong.

This lady...

How do I feel? Some...

She glanced at Roland in confusion, then turned her gaze to Beatrice, who was listening attentively.

The other party was also staring at her.

“…Yes, do you hate my…my…” Halida subconsciously bent her arms to block her throat.

The circus story stopped.

"Listen!" Beatrice shouted, "I want to listen!"

She screamed and slapped the sofa, which frightened Halida.

"Our Beatrice doesn't want to grow up, Miss Halida." Roland explained with a smile: "...So, she begged the Father of All Things to give her a long period of innocence."

Bronte, who was standing not far away, frowned slightly.

Maybe Halida and Beatrice didn't understand.

She had read books and gone to school, and she knew very well that this sentence was somewhat 'dangerous' - that is, in such a private occasion. Otherwise, when mentioning the benefactor, it is best to just quote the words in the Book of Eden.

Don't be so bold as to create something on your own.

However, the young man on the sofa continued: "...the Father of All Things agreed and promised to give her the most innocent and wonderful time. The price was...his brother was in a state of anxiety."

Halida laughed softly.

"I, I want to, thank... you."

The brown-skinned girl didn't know how to express herself in words that would match the gorgeous decoration of the room and the soft and comfortable skirt she was wearing.

She adorned her thanks with the most solemn tone she could imagine, and with the words she had occasionally heard Mr. Lyle say.

"You, you saved my brother, and you saved me."

When he sat upright, even the cowardice in his eyes disappeared a lot.

She looked at the young man opposite her very seriously: "I don't know how to thank you. Maybe I can..."

Before Roland could reply, Beatrice, who was ignored, began to fret. She had been kicking her legs out of boredom for a long time, but...

No one paid any attention to her!
“She’s coffee!”

She pointed at Halida, dipped her finger in the black tea in Roland's cup, and rubbed it on her arm.

"That's not coffee, Beatrice."

"I'm a coffee drinker too!" Beatrice proudly raised the back of her hand and showed off to Halida: "Me too!"

"Halida just got too much sun... You like her, right?"

Seeing that Roland's attention had finally returned to her, the blonde girl narrowed her eyes, snuggled into his arms like a cat, and rubbed Roland's chest with her messy hair:

“…I like coffee and I like Roland.”

As Bronte looked on in surprise, Roland raised his hand and gently rubbed her hair, using his fingers like a comb to smooth out the tangled hair.

"I'm lucky that you like both Roland and coffee." Roland whispered gently in her ear, touched the table with his hand, dipped his fingertips in the black tea, and imitated him, smearing it on the back of his hand: "Am I coffee now?"

"It's Roland."

"I should be Coffee Roland now."

"It's Roland... not coffee."

"So do you like coffee or Roland?"

"I like Roland."

"Where's the coffee?"

Beatrice hesitated.

She stole a glance at Halida, then looked up at the person beside her, moved her hips, and hugged Roland's arm. "I liked Roland first, then I liked coffee."

Roland teased her: "You can only choose one, Beatrice."

"No." Beatrice shook her head vigorously: "Two!"

Roland sighed: "So, what about Randolph?"

"Randolph, Coffee Roland, and Coffee Halida, which two do you choose?"

Beatrice hesitated even more.

This time, she simply didn't bother to sort them out. She timidly pulled Roland's arm and asked tentatively, "Pick three, okay?"

Roland pressed his finger on her forehead and pushed her away: "You are no different from your brother."

Beatrice bared her teeth and clawed: "I am the brother!"

Halida watched the 'brother and sister' quarreling, laughing and joking, and suddenly discovered something.

This incredibly handsome gentleman...

how…

Can’t see?
wrong.

When he handed me the towel last night, when he stood up from the coffin and looked at me...

Should he be able to see it?

"Sir."

Before she knew it, she started to get nervous again.

"Miss Halida?"

"You...your eyes..."

"Well, yes." Roland's brows relaxed and he smiled and replied, "I can't see it."

Halida was silent.

She thought that this man might have some unspeakable grievances and that his eyes should be able to see more clearly, but for some reason, he could not tell anyone.

She tightened her face and nodded solemnly: "I understand."

She will keep it a secret for her husband.

Never tell anyone.

But, but.

This is a secret...

secret.

She was getting nervous.

and so.

The shameful curse struck again.

A loud 'woof' echoed in the living room.

Beatrice was startled and turned her head suddenly. She blinked and looked at Halida carefully. She saw that she was covering one of her cheeks with her palm and her expression was twitching ferociously.

It was so weird. "Roland!" Beatrice called out, pointing at Halida and yelling, "Hound!"

hound.

This word caused a mist to appear in Halida's pale silver eyes.

Roland held the handle of the cup, took a sip of tea, and looked indifferently at the maid Bronte who came forward and hugged Beatrice.

She stroked Beatrice's blond hair and whispered that it wasn't a hound, it was just...

Just what?
Bronte was not sure.

For many say that defects are a curse and a sin. Those who are blind must be the barking dogs.

But Bronte didn't think so.

Although she didn't understand what caused this situation.

But she didn't quite believe it.

"I... Woof! I control woof! I can't control it..." Halida covered her mouth with a sad look in her eyes, "It's me woof... my sin... woof... don't... please... don't woof... don't look at me..."

She knew her skin color, her curse, her strange eyes—she knew that something was wrong with her.

But she still had a small hope.

I hope Roland, Beatrice and Bronte will not look at me with the strange eyes that others have.

This is of course wishful thinking.

Roland didn't say much, just whispered a few words into Beatrice's ear.

The girl nodded doubtfully and took Bronte upstairs.

After a while, the master and servant came down.

Bronte held a mirror and Beatrice held a silver hairpin.

She ran over from a distance and hugged Roland's arm again. The two of them whispered to each other for a long time.

Beatrice looked at the hairpin in her hand and pursed her lips, as if to encourage herself.

“…Don’t bite me.”

She warned the sobbing Halida, moving closer cautiously.

Halida simply closed her eyes.

pat.

The black hair was gently pulled, and something was caught in it.

After a while.

"Ms. Halida."

Roland called her name softly.

When she opened her eyes, there was a mirror in front of her face - a small round mirror with a gilt frame held by the maid.

She saw herself in the mirror.

And the silver one between the hair, with wings as thin as paper...

Butterfly hairpin.

"...Sir...I am...Woof!"

She couldn't help but start twitching again, but the person in the mirror was extremely beautiful:

She was wearing a golden long dress, and her collarbones were like two delicate and slender necklaces. Sliding across her swan neck, there was a pair of misty silver eyes.

And the butterfly hairpin on her head that is fluttering its wings slightly.

Every time she twitched, the silver butterfly flapped its wings a few times.

It's like perfection born from imperfection.

Roland held his chin quietly, his eyes like the scorching sun rising slowly in the snowy winter—

It bakes sin, and when the filth that enveloped its wings is melted, the light brown butterfly timidly stretches its limbs and tries to flap its wings for the first time.

This is an unprecedented feeling.

"I can't see, Beatrice. Tell me, is Halida beautiful?"

Beatrice was not afraid now.

She pointed at Halida excitedly and said crisply, "Beautiful!"

she says.

"Butterfly!"

She shouted.

"Ha... Halida!" She finally called out Halida's name, "Halida! Beautiful! Eyes! Butterfly! Silver!"

The silver butterfly flapped its wings, constantly attracting Beatrice's attention.

"What is Halida now?"

Roland asked with a smile.

"It's not a hound." Beatrice thought for a moment, "It's a butterfly."

I…

I am... a butterfly...?
Halida touched her eyelids, cheeks, and mouth corners.

When the tears slide down, only cold water marks are left.

In her light silver eyes, there was a pool of clear spring water that dispelled the fog.

"Mr. Collins...Woof!"

She couldn't help twitching again.

And every time she twitched, the butterfly in the black hair of the beautiful woman in the mirror fluttered its wings again.

There had never been a day in her life when she felt more confused than today.

She once wondered why she couldn't say a complete sentence, and then she wondered why she was alive; she began to wonder why she couldn't hang herself from the beam, and then she wondered why she prepared scissors in advance and was so afraid of death;
She wondered why her parents were not cursed and she was the only one who had to suffer; later she wondered why she did not dare to drown her brother, and then jumped into the sea.

She lived in a daze, as if all the mud in her heart had turned into a flood, always pouring out only one word.

Alive.

Living is not a process, but her empty purpose.

"Roland Collins is cursed because he is blind—but it doesn't matter because someone loves Roland Collins."

"Halida is cursed because she barks all the time - but it doesn't matter, because someone..."

Roland paused when he spoke here.

The next moment, Beatrice raised her arm and spoke in a clear and loud voice:
"Because someone loves Halida!"

Will there be one?
Halida looked at the young man in front of her who was smiling lazily. He only answered her questions with a smile.

'Yes.'

Halida finally let go of her hands and burst into tears.

"She's crying." Beatrice shrank her neck, turned around and ran back to Roland: "...She's crying."

"Help her, Beatrice."

The girl thought about it, turned around and ran away.

Bronte hastily put down the mirror and hurried after him.

"You, why are you...woof...why are you helping me?" the girl asked with red eyes.

Because you are just like me.

I can see the teeth of the world in you.

Roland smiled and said:

"Does this long skirt have pockets?"

pocket?
She touched it.

Indoor skirts have small pockets.

"that's enough."

Roland took out a coin and placed it on the table.

"Ms. Halida."

As he said this, he pushed the coin to her and patted his trouser pockets which were making a rustling sound.

“…There’s hope in this.”

He pointed at the coins on the table, but he was looking in the direction of his own memories.

"Now, I'll give you some of it."

The silver butterfly stared blankly at the golden-eyed young man in front of it.

His weird, rough and slightly crazy behavior was as if someone was singing in her ears in a language she couldn't understand.

She couldn't understand what was being said, but she could understand the emotions in the song, and the passionate singing melted the mud that trapped her.

Like a butterfly trying to flap its wings for the first time, overlooking this gray world from high above.

(End of this chapter)