The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 215 Ch.214 Enemy
It's not like Rose hasn't seen death before.

But she never thought that one day she would see Annie explode into blood foam in front of her.

As the flute sounded——

Anne dropped her arms, turned, and looked at her.

His lips moved slightly, as if he said something.

then…

She exploded from the waist down.

The splattering blood mixed with the screams created red flowers of hell on the banks of the Thames.

Rose seemed to have returned to her childhood, the time when she crushed the caterpillars on the ground with her feet.

Now, they are the caterpillars on the land.

The turbulent winter wind was mixed with a strong smell of rust, and blood and mud like a rainstorm poured onto her hood, face, arms and thighs.

People exploded one after another, and some were even running away in all directions a second ago.

The horses under the policemen's crotches neighed in fear, and together with the bloody chords, they played a prelude to madness.

Those who survived began to trample on each other.

Some people were pushed down and then stepped on in the stomach and head by pairs of shoes; some people pulled their children or wives, ran and squeezed, but in the end found that their hands were empty.

The police and detectives blocked these caged rats like a wall, watching them devour and tear each other apart indifferently.

Some compassionate believers knelt down, holding the silver cross on their chests tightly, and muttered something:

They are praying for those who have died, and for those who are not dead yet but are about to die.

Rose touched the blood on her face and stood there stupidly, staring at Anne's broken body.

And that crimson dress that had been shattered into pieces.

She was pushed and bumped, staggering from side to side.

Her body could no longer hold the pained and frightened soul, just as a knife could not be hidden in soft intestines.

"Rose—"

Someone called her name above the water.

"Lillian Rose Vansittart—"

Not only did he make her scream, he also unreasonably and roughly pulled her up from the bottom of the lake, smoothed down her bloody hair, and forcefully twisted her face - towards the dazzling sun.

Those are two amber suns.

“Rose!!”

The emerald green eyes gradually focused and could see the face of the person on the lake clearly.

"Ro...Roland..."

"We should go now." Roland looked coldly at the blood flowers blooming around him.

He wore a long, big black windbreaker today.

Therefore, it was easy to hold the originally skinny thief in his arms and cover her with his windbreaker.

“I’ve always wanted a beard.”

In the constant collision, Rose, who was stumbling, hugged her bright sun waist and listened to him say in a gentle voice:

"Ever since I was a kid I wanted a thick, thick, curly beard."

Rose said nothing.

"Because that means I have become a man."

Roland hugged the little ostrich under his windbreaker, and with steps as skillful as a skilled dancer, he led her to avoid the men and women who bumped into him and were frightened crazy.

“Because I think about it all the time.”

His voice was deep, slow and powerful, like a musician with superb bow skills sitting by the river in the afternoon, chatting with seabirds while playing an unknown tune to compose the mottled gold soundtrack on the sea.

"I think about it often."

"If I look scary and have some scars on my face."

"perhaps."

"They should be afraid of me."

Roland suddenly took a few quick steps.

Rose heard a cry of pain, and then was quickly left behind.

"They are afraid of me, my face, my fists, even my voice."

"I protected my Yam like a man."

"That exciting scene often appears in my dreams at midnight."

Roland tightened his arms.

The other pair of arms around his waist also subconsciously tightened a little.

"Regrettably…"

He suddenly sighed helplessly.

"When I grew up, I didn't scare them. Instead, I made them excited..."

puff.

The girl in his arms laughed out loud. She gently pinched Roland's waist, tears streaming down her face, but the corners of her mouth curled up.

Pain and happiness, the fog in the brain was gradually blown away by the sound of the violin.

Not far away, a carriage had its door wide open, waiting for its owner to pass through the crowd.

Shandel Kratov stood on the outer edge of the carriage, his chin resting on the base of his palm, quietly watching the black-haired, black-clothed young man holding the creature in his arms, lightly passing through the blood swamp filled with chaos and wailing.

She gnashed her teeth.

Bite up and down, grind left and right.

'A wonderful seed.'

she says.

'In blood and fire can a seed grow and germinate.'

She muttered, pushing aside the gray hair in front of her forehead, her lake blue eyes shining brightly.

'A woman's attachment.'

she says.

'She will never be able to fall in love with anyone else...'

'Roland.'

'You murderer.'

Mr. Murderer quickly made his way through the crowd and reached his car.

In the carriage, besides a polite gray-haired girl with her legs together, there was also a white cat yawning lazily.

cat?
when?
"Yes, Roland, she came uninvited."

Shandel looked gently at the curly-haired girl who came out of Roland's windbreaker. His tone was so soft that it was hard to tell whether the phrase 'uninvited' had any other meaning.

"Come up quickly, young lady, we are leaving this dangerous place."

She invited Roland and Rose into the carriage and closed the door.

The wheels began to turn as the driver shouted.

"Wipe your face."

Shandel handed the handkerchief to Roland and turned his eyes to the silent girl.

"Hello, I'm Shandel. Shandel Kratofer."

Rose nodded and replied dryly, "I am Lillian Rose Vansittart, a friend of Roland's... Thank you for the carriage, Miss Kratov."

Shandel smiled faintly.

Neither of them seemed to have much to talk about, and the carriage gradually became quiet.

But the cat didn't seem well.

It retched a few times and rubbed its face and nose with its two small front paws.

Hunched up in its seat, it looked like a cat boat without legs.

"…What happened to it?"

Shandel touched the cat's back, tail and head, but received no response.

"I'm carsick."
-
Carsick...? -
What's the meaning?-
The reason for the carriage ride?
"That's right."

"Put it on your lap and do as I tell you."

Roland reached out, picked up the cat, and placed it on his lap.

"Touch its ears."

"Be gentle."

Roland did the same.

The amazing thing was that after being stroked a few times, it actually wasn't in as much pain as before - it was just still a little listless, lying listlessly on Roland's legs.

It was eerily quiet in the carriage.

Roland stroked the cat's ears gently and remained silent, not wanting to start any topic.

Rose needs some time.

Maybe a lot of time.

"Roland."

But Shandel suddenly spoke.

"Is it sick?"

Refers to this 'uninvited' cat.

"No, I just feel a little carsick." Roland immediately used the new words he had learned. He explained to Shandel, "Some people or animals feel uncomfortable when riding in a carriage... You see, if you gently touch your ears, it can relieve this temporary symptom."

Shandel thought about it.

She thought for a while, then bent her arms, pinched her nose and said, "Roland."

"Ok?"

Shandel's face turned pale: "I might be a little carsick."

Rose, who was immersed in sadness, said: …

(End of this chapter)