The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 203 Ch.202 Castanets and Brooms

Cemeteries have never been forgotten and deserted places.

At least in this country which is now like a rising sun, everyone has compassion in their hearts and is willing to take the time to bring their relatives and friends to this final resting place to accompany the deceased.

They would bring servants, and the servants would bring lunch.

Inferior cemeteries are entirely at the discretion of the visitors; better ones will provide tables, chairs and tableware (but most visitors do not use the tableware provided by the cemetery).

The men drank and talked in this quiet secret place full of green plants and wild roses, talking about old friends who had passed away, family members or loved ones who had left, their children and careers, their country, and the future.

The ladies, in groups of two or three, carried baskets, followed by servants, strolled on the soft grass in soft cloth shoes - or occasionally bent down to pick a few wild flowers that looked bright but had no name.

At this time, when the parents have their own entertainment, the children will mix together and start playing hide-and-seek in the cemetery or harassing some of the deceased who are sleeping in the cemetery.

In response, the gravekeeper just gave a few reminders with a stern face.

Children's laughter brings happiness to the deceased.

- Of course, if it's really too extreme: for example, the children insist on fiddling with the iron bars of the tomb or doing something to the statue of the holy figure in front of the tomb...

The gravekeeper would still pick up the unfortunate guy by the collar and bring him back to his parents.

Then I watched him get a good beating from a distance.

Usually, those who dare to do this are the "castanets".

——This brings us to the "difference" among gravekeepers.

There are two types of grave keepers:
Castanets, and broom.

Castanets is a nickname given to them by the latter - these serious-looking men in black robes are always covered with bone pendants that make a clattering sound when they walk, hence the nickname.

They came from the Ring of Eternal Silence, and were in the second year of the three-year trial of 'collecting bones, guarding tombs, and keeping silent'.

These people are assigned to various tombs and leave on the winter festival day one year later. They will be replaced by a new group of members who have completed the "bone collection".

The 'broom' is much simpler.

They are hired hands.

Ordinary people employed by the Ring of Eternal Silence to handle menial tasks - such as cleaning graves, clearing away garbage left by visitors, replenishing the daily necessities of the castanets, and cooperating with the gardeners to mow and tidy up the lawns and woods.

These mostly illiterate, low-moral rough men have their own circle and hardly communicate with the castanets.

They worked, then retreated to the cabin to play cards and drink cheap beer. When they got paid every week, they would find the cheapest woman to have fun with.

Repeatedly.

But today is different.

Today, the castanets have all left.

Before Christmas, the Winter Festival comes first.

“This time of year, they disappear for the entire night.”

There was a small stove burning in the log cabin near the edge of the woods.

The oil lamp was hung on a rivet driven into the wallboard. Next to the stove were two palm-sized pieces of bread, smeared with a layer of milky white grease from an animal whose origin was unclear.

Old Henry lay on the plank bed with his head resting on his hands.

A soft blanket that was not too dirty (he bought it from a prostitute) was spread on the bed. He took off his shoes, crossed his legs, rubbed his toes together, and smelled the aroma of grease on the bread.

Little Henry sat on the gray floor, cross-legged, with a cigarette butt in his hand.

There are many fathers and sons doing this business.

"I heard from a friend that it's a festival." Little Henry bit the cigarette butt, stuck it into the stove and sucked on the fire, pinched it between his thumb and index finger, and took a puff: "...It seems to be in a different place every year."

Old Henry glanced at his son and said, "…you'd better stay away from your group of bad friends."

Seeing that little Henry didn't take it seriously, he put down his leg and kicked him.

"Stop talking about the castanets, idiot! Do you know how many friends I brought in for you to visit? Every day I mow the weeds, sweep the garbage, and occasionally keep watch. My salary is as high as that of a steel factory worker. If you lose your job because of your mouth..."

"Just get out of the house!"

Little Henry held a cigarette between his legs and said with a sneer, "…They are nobler than us, aren't they, father?"

This is what it means to still not accept the fact.

"…You'd better shut your stinky mouth." Old Henry sat up from the bed with a creaking sound and lowered his voice: "When you get to be as old as me, you will understand. That is the 'Circle of Eternal Silence', you know? It is a real, special organization."

Little Henry pouted.

"Oh, they don't have to pay to go to Flower Street, right?"

"They can twist your head off and the police won't hold them accountable." Old Henry slapped the cigarette butt out of his son's hand and glared at him for a few seconds. Seeing that he was still laughing shamelessly, he had no choice but to pull out a wrinkled cigarette from his pocket and throw it to him.

“…I should have spent some money to send you to school.”

Old Henry grumbled. He regretted that he had not gritted his teeth and sent this kid to school. At least in school he could stay away from the thugs on the street and not become such a lawless person.

He was reluctant to spend money at that time.

"Are you..." Old Henry moved his lips, his voice almost drowned out by the cold wind outside: "...are you... interested in that..."

His son has been hanging around a castanets lately.

The girl is young and beautiful.

He just kept a gloomy face every day - old Henry was a man too, and he knew that this demeanor would attract a certain type of people.

If it had been any other target, old Henry might have praised his son and given him some advice.

But it was castanets.

A black robe with castanets made of human bones even on the pendant around his waist.

"Stay away from that woman."

"I just wanted to have a quick chat with her," the son said. "Don't you want to see me--"

"Shh..." Old Henry interrupted suddenly.

He seemed to hear some noise outside the door, accompanied by a cold wind.

"shh——" He picked up the shovel at the corner of the door and quietly opened the door a crack.

The cemetery was quiet.

Old Henry lay on the crack of the door, listening quietly for a long time with his ears perked up.

Nothing happened.

This isn't right.

There were two other groups patrolling in the first half of the night. Normally, they would pass by once in a while - but now...

The cemetery was dark.

The two… or four oil lamps that should have been there seemed to be pulled into the flames of the deep sea.

Beast?

Tomb robber?
Old Henry didn't know.

But it's definitely not normal.

“…You stay in the house.” He held the shovel, his chest heaving several times. After taking a breath, he suddenly opened the door and jumped out!
"Who's out there!"

He roared loudly and swung the shovel in his hand, making a whistling sound!
"Who! Is there?"

"Get out! I've seen you--!"

The cold wind whistled silently.

Footsteps rustled across the grass, approaching...

"Who...who's there!"

He squinted his dim triangular eyes, trying to identify the owner of the footsteps in the darkness.

Then he saw some...

Some flying light dust.

The bright, white flame-like dust flew away from the cemetery quickly with the winter wind. The owner of the footsteps passed through the darkness, covered with a hazy white veil.

"…Margaret."

Old Henry began to swallow for no reason and his hands were shaking so much that he could hardly hold the shovel.

He felt a chill down his spine and a thin layer of cold sweat broke out.

That's his wife.

His wife had been dead for fifteen years.

"Margaret!!" His fingers lost strength and he loosened the wooden handle, staring stiffly at his deceased wife standing vividly in front of him - as beautiful as she was fifteen years ago.

He wanted to say something, but couldn't find a topic for a while.

He looked greedily, looking at...

Watch her approach...

near…

Then, the 'wife' gave him a left hook.

(End of this chapter)