The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 445: Three Rewards and the Butler

Let's not talk about how Peggy Street treated the miners.

She did keep her promise and agreed to open the Streeter family's treasure house to Roland and his party: it was called a treasure house, but in fact it was just a small collection room.

In addition to worldly artworks, there are also some mysterious and precious items from Henry Street's collection.

Paige said they could each take one.

"How stingy."

In the reception room, Rose fiddled with the bowl-sized bronze plate in her hand, very dissatisfied: "She said before, 'Take whatever you want'."

"We didn't help much, that was generous enough."

Kingsley replied.

After all, apart from Rose, he and Roland could not really be said to have been "helpful" during the whole process (he did not think that his words could be of any real help, unless the person who listened to it was not well educated and his wisdom was difficult to explain in detail - I wish there were more smart people in this world).
Rose got a round bronze medal, while Kingsley chose a pen.

But it seems that these two young men are not concerned about the "generosity" in their hands.

The tea mist is curling up.

“…She broke her promise.”

Rose muttered, handing over the sign: "So you already knew that she was this kind of person."

"I knew it long ago, Rose," Roland held his chin, took the bronze plate with sharp characters, and looked at it over and over again, "I just felt that no one could be a mountain or an ocean."

No one is eternal.

"Hasn't our detective warned you long ago?"

Kingsley shook his head when he heard this: "I am the real 'guesser'. I don't even know why I helped her in a rush before - I have read many books, but I have never witnessed a person's 'degeneration' with my own eyes..."

At this point, he made a joke with a straight face: "Or 'growth'."

The characters on Rose's bronze medal were in a language that neither Roland nor Wrench had ever seen, although thanks to the existence of "The Brilliance of All Things", Roland was able to recognize the knowledge recorded on it.

An invisible art.

It’s called: The Curse of the Spring.

This is a secret curse that will harm both the enemy and ourselves, and is only effective against low-level ritualists and creatures below them.

The method of use is very harsh, and the practitioner has to endure inhuman pain.

Roland did not recommend her to choose the bronze medal, but Rose insisted.

"I feel it is more useful than the book and the key," Rose snatched it back and shook it in her hand, feeling somewhat proud. "The lost text may contain some powerful ritual..."

She leaned forward and whispered, "Can't you..."

Roland: “No.”

Rose: “You should be able to…”

Roland: “No.”

Kingsley: ...

It's a waste of time to listen to these meaningless conversations every day.

"For some low-level people who haven't mastered the true power, this invisible art is terrifying enough."
-
Teaching her is like putting a banana in the hands of a monkey.

"You don't give it to her, and you don't allow her to find it herself?"
-
I'm talking about this invisible art.

“That’s what I said.”

Roland rolled his eyes silently and took the pen handed to him by the detective.

Roland reminded him to choose this pen.

——If it were up to him, he would probably choose that oil painting.

"Is this more valuable than the painting?" Kingsley leaned forward slightly.

It must be said that he is now beginning to be interested in "mystery".

For example, the letter that could set people on fire upon seeing it, and the power that could allow a "weak" girl like Rose to knock down a strong man in a few moves.

His father never let him have any contact with these.

"painting?"

Roland stroked the walnut headless pen in his hand and said with a smile: "The oil painting can only be used as travel expenses, Kingsley. But this pen is of extraordinary value..."

A little gadget that can buy hundreds of paintings.

"This is something special. Perhaps even Henry Streeter didn't realize how extraordinary it is..." Roland weighed it and returned it. "It may be more expensive than a house."

Kingsley looked at the pen, then at Roland.

"You should know that I am different from you."

"It's just different now." Roland said mysteriously, "Maybe you will use it someday?"

Kingsley already knew exactly what kind of person this man was.

He was sure that if he continued to ask, he would get the response "Why don't you reason about it?" and then no matter what he said, he would not get a real answer.

It makes people sleep poorly.

Roland chose a travel book himself - it recorded a period of the life of the protagonist of the story, the absurd and unbelievable villages and towns he visited, and the strange rituals and customs he witnessed...

There is no invisible art here, no knowledge that makes flesh or soul strong.

The reason Roland chose it was because of the author.

Written by Ryan Masters.

Roland asked, but the butler didn't know when the notebook appeared in the collection room, or even how long it had existed.

The book used a lot of space to describe a strange town - they called themselves "Dragonborn" and behaved rudely and strangely. But as Roland understood it now, if Mr. Master was not making it up, then this story must have happened a long time ago.

Write about the bloodthirsty demon, the person who has been to that dream.

Is the author still alive?
knock knock.

It was Martin, the butler, who came.

Peggy was too busy, or something, but after that day, they never saw the creature in all its glory again.

"I'm sorry for the hospitality," the old butler bowed and declined Rose's invitation several times, but felt that there was no end to this, so he slowly found a chair and sat down - sitting one-third of the way.

"How can I sit and talk with you, Miss Shelley?"

Even so, he still refused to forgive himself.

"How can I let an old man stand for twenty minutes while I sit there with a clear conscience?" Rose blinked and said playfully, "I have received an apology from the Street family."

Old Martin understood Rose's hint, and a visibly oily smile spread across his wrinkled face.

But in fact, a truly experienced butler would never be rude because of a girl's invitation - if he sits face to face with the guest, then who is the guest?
The steward is the embodiment of the master's will.

Rose's lectures were not in vain.

She knew what the old fellow was here for—but was it necessary?
Streeter didn't need Shelley.

Whether Peggy would be willing to give all her property to whomever she wanted, or vice versa, impose higher taxes and more stringent laws - that was also something she had to consider.

Did she need to send the butler to explain to her?
Rose couldn't understand.

She also knew that she didn't have this 'talent'.

"Okay, Mr. Martin." The girl smoothed down her skirt and sat up straight. "I'm a little confused, so it's not a bad idea to talk to you before I leave."

she says.

"For example, the ritualist that Ms. Peggy Street mentioned before, the subsequent arrangements of the two evildoers, and the debt problem of the Street family - I don't want to pry into anything, Mr. Martin, but if Ms. Street needs some help..."

Kingsley nodded secretly as he listened to Rose.

That's more or less.

(End of this chapter)