The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 366 Ch.365 Civilized Sweet Girl Lillian

“The amount of meat is wrong.”

"Also, they or their hearts and brains are gone..."

The assistant did not cover his nose. In this room where the smell was so bad that it could not be described, every second of his calmness demonstrated his professionalism.

Some things don't need to be said, his boss can see it.

for example.

The remaining intestines and the feces inside them disappeared without a trace - this meant that the murderer did not vent his anger by chopping off the intestines, digging out the heart and brain, and then running away.

Judging from the intestines left at the scene...

There must be someone holding his head...

Suck it with all your might.

Suck it clean.

Then cut off the parts you like.

This is so disgusting.

"Actually, it doesn't smell bad when chewed." The old policeman tore off his gloves and slid his fingers across the floor, leaving two long scratches in the coagulated blood. "Blood test...what are you doing?"

He turned his head and found that his assistant was looking at him with horror.

"I was just kidding, idiot."

He grinned, held his knees to stand up again, and rubbed two fingers back and forth on his assistant's coat a few times.

"I didn't provoke you." The assistant was stiff: "This cost me thirteen shillings..."

"It just so happens that I haven't wiped my hands with thirteen shillings yet." The old policeman patted his assistant on the shoulder - don't be fooled by the little bastard pretending to be serious, in fact, he has not seen many deaths: especially such a tragic scene.

This is not a vendetta.

It wasn't some kind of ritualistic murder case - he had seen and heard of many: for example, people who liked to collect living people's tongues, teeth, and even women's hands and men's... things. There were many disgusting cases in the archives.

But this time it was different.

Every crime scene is different.

Some lost the flesh on their faces, some lost their tongues, and some lost their calves.

Some have lost some of their features.

but.

He is Butch.

Although the flesh and blood of these victims were destroyed beyond recognition and the scenes were different, the experienced sheriff was still able to find similarities in several recent murders:

These people all 'worked' before they died.

The woman is obvious.

As for men...by examining some subtle details, the surrounding environment and the smell, corresponding evidence can also be found.

They all worked.

with who?

Who fiddled with them and took away their flesh, eyes, hearts and brains - who sucked out their intestines and cut off the tenderest parts of their legs...

He didn't want to use the word 'tender' to describe it, but that was the fact.

——When the case first happened, only a few prostitutes died.

It's no big deal, maybe it's a vendetta.

Then, several workers who were carrying bags died.

It's no big deal, maybe it's gangs.

Then, men and women with decent jobs, partners and children began to die.

Then young people started dying.

Some even lost babies.

He was an experienced police officer at Scotland Yard, but when he saw all these bloody murders, his stomach churned.

Not to mention his assistants.

"We can't handle this case."

The old policeman put his hands back into his leather gloves and touched the firearm at his waist. This was the only thing that could give him a slight sense of security.

"uncle?"

"Call me Sheriff, or Mr. Butch, you little bastard who can't clean up his shit."

"...I said, someone pushed me." The young assistant rubbed his eyes, pulled out a cardboard from under his armpit, opened it and read: "According to the investigation, this lady is an employee of the soap factory and she doesn't usually come into contact with any bad people. Her husband is a blacksmith..."

The old policeman listened with one ear and let it out the other. Finally, he lit a cigarette impatiently and started puffing away as if no one was around.

But the assistant still read it word for word.

He had already experienced the character of his uncle.

"Don't look at me like that, little jerk. I've solved more cases than your father has ever slept with."

The nephew was a little annoyed: "He is extremely loyal to my mother!"

"Oh, that's for sure. Otherwise, do you think he has the brains to bring the girl back to your mother's bedroom every time and then send her away so arrogantly - your mother is not blind or deaf, you know?" The words implied something self-evident.

"Butch! You old bastard!"

"My fact that I can take you in proves that I am a qualified relative. Also, your father should really treat your mother well. Just based on the quality of his cigarette, he can still win your mother's heart - she was very popular when she was young."

"If she hadn't always said nice things to me, I would have come to your house in the middle of the night and beat the shit out of your flea-like father."

He took a long puff of the cigarette, and provocatively blew the smoke and stench into his nephew's face.

"Don't learn from his sense of justice. He is a well-known fool."

"If he had learned to lower his head earlier, he could have saved his left leg."

The assistant's eyes widened, "Because he never would! That's why he saved my mother!"

Smoke billows.

"…Yeah. That's why I didn't beat the shit out of him." The old sheriff grinned, took two big puffs in a row, threw the cigarette butt into the corpse's open abdomen, and patted his assistant's shoulder heavily: "You have to stay alive. If you stay alive, you will have women, money, and wine."

"If you work under me, you have to listen to me."

The young assistant, like his father once was, has a heart that helps the weak and punishes the strong.

But if this organ is not used properly, it can easily stop beating.

"We can't control this matter."

He said.

"But more than a dozen people have died, and we are just going to watch?" The assistant retorted: "We have found the key - Mr. Bachi, these cases all happened in the East District and the South District, which already means one thing."

"Besides, we can find those who are hanging around on the street..."

Butch raised his hands. "We can't control this. Don't make me say it for the fourth time."

The old sheriff knew some secrets.

There are some things that they shouldn't interfere with.

Justice also has limits.

"Notify the people in the Inquisition." He wiped the sole of his shoe on the torn nightgown at the door a few times. "The Inquisition, you know? The court of trial, the people in black clothes, those monsters who are afraid of exploding if they laugh, notify them."

The old sheriff cleaned his shoes and glanced at his silent assistant.

“…No, I’ll go myself.”

He thought about it.

If this kid with an overly righteous mind were to use his smartness in the wrong place, things would become even more troublesome.

Those man-eating monsters won't let anyone go just because of clothes.

They are a bunch of lunatics.

"Starting today, report to my office every morning. I have a lot of files to sort through."

As he spoke, he pushed the door open and found a girl leaning against the window, looking at herself in a mirror.

Years of experience have given him a canine-like sense of smell - a sense of smell for those who are not good enough, for those who are their enemies.

The smell of these people is different.

"Miss?"

Old Butch stroked the handle of his gun, leaned slightly to one side, and looked like he hadn't woken up yet. "Nice weather, isn't it?"

The girl had weird curly hair and a black ribbon tied around her neck.

He doesn't look like a serious person at all.

More importantly: she has a pair of beautiful green eyes.

"I'm waiting for someone." The girl looked at her face, snapped it shut, and glanced at the old bark slowly approaching - similarly, she had the same sense of smell as him.

"Who are you waiting for?"

"Waiting for someone I can't tell you, and you have no right to ask, old man." Rose slammed the wall with the heel of her boot. "Don't make trouble. I am a law-abiding citizen. I abide by the law and I am legal. I can stay anywhere I want."

Butch discovered that the girl seemed to be no older than his nephew.

"Get her out of here!" The sheriff yelled, calling back the idle police officers around him - some of them were smoking in the corner, some were warming themselves in the empty room next door, and some didn't show up at all...

Or take a leave early and go to a casino or a pub to kill time.

"Someone suggested abolishing Scotland Yard. I think this person is very insightful. Do you think the salary is too high?" Old Butch cursed and spit at the shy young people with strong saliva: "Get her out of here. Who let her get close to the scene?!"

His voice suddenly exploded in the curly-haired girl's ears, scaring her.

The mirror in his hand fell to the ground and broke into several pieces.

"You're such a fucking blind bastard, your ass isn't even as big as an acorn—"

The sound stopped suddenly.

The girl coughed a few times and took back the words that she had not yet finished, or that had almost been finished.

Look up again.

Civilized and sweet, like two completely different people.

"…Hi, Roland." She blinked her left eye.

(End of this chapter)