The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 493 Ch.492 Wells' Confession
Wells had employed several gentlemen of great power.

They all had a common answer for the creaking symptoms in his body: to seek medical help, not the mystic.

They said: This is not something that ordinary people can endure.

They said, this is not something you can afford.

They told him that the brief happiness and half-day relief would only make him madly dependent and forever chase after an unattainable bubble.

They warned, and warned many times.

Now, old Wells understood.

These people, like those 'gentlemen' whose titles were longer than the middle paragraph, all looked down on him and fooled him.

Miss Cinderella Collins was different.

She is a true believer, a devout believer who should be blessed by the Father of All, a good person, a kind person.

Wells was satisfied and prayed silently for her. He would rather live twenty years less than not to gain mercy from the benefactor for her.

—They had a nice dinner in the West End.

Then, we went to listen to a musical.

A few days later.

Cinderella Collins came to the house on time every day, calling it a "visit" - in fact, old Wells knew why she came.

Help him get rid of the pain.

She spent money to pack up a team of maids, waiters, coachmen and cooks to facilitate his daily life and shopping.

She often brought famous painters' works or poets' essays, wrote them down herself, and read them to him. In these slow and lazy days, old Wells had an illusion:
If he had a daughter, she would look like this.

to be frank.

He doesn't want to die now.

Not at all.

Cinderella Collins ignited his soul and gave him hope for life again.

He wants to live.

Live without stopping.

'Good day, Mr. Choke.'

This was the nickname that Shandel gave him - the fact that he could say this also proved that Wells had completely come out of that self-destructive mood.

'Good day, Miss Saint.'

This was old Wells's nickname for Chandel - a compliment to her kindness and also a close joke.

The old man's skinny flesh and blood became more and more plump with Miss Saint's care day after day.

The flesh under his skin gradually swelled up, stretching out the wrinkles.

There was some color in his face and his cheekbones were no longer so prominent.

He transformed from a skeleton into a human being, and even his voice became much louder, and could be heard from the living room to the dining room and then to the kitchen.

He can walk by himself without help.

even.

He began to look at the short, flat-nosed, flat-footed young maid from time to time.

That was his body reminding him that he no longer needed to worry about survival and should focus on his next goal.

then.

On a night when crows fluttered their wings, old Wells called her into the moonless cellar.

Perhaps because of his muddy background, even though he became rich, fell, and became rich again, he still liked girls like his wife:
Strong and powerful, with a hoarse and rough voice, big feet, and a stronger body odor, the better - like the smell of wild animals.

After that day.

The maid with broad feet often went upstairs in the middle of the night to serve her in her old master's room.

By the way.

In addition to dispelling Wells' pain and bringing him a new life, Shendel also gave him a stack of plans for the future: investment.

Land, minerals and railways were off-limits to those who were not from large families or high-ranking surnames. The tobacco, alcohol and textile industries were also controlled by the new rich - Shandel had no connections, so he could only find some fragmented industries for him, seemingly insignificant and small investment projects.

Then, they were lined up and selected by old Wells.

This is not enough to satisfy his extravagant lifestyle, but it is definitely enough for an old man to spend his later years in peace.

however.

John Wells's luck did not end there.

a few days later.

The servant girl with the gruff voice was pregnant.

Old Wells was delighted!

You know, he once thought he would never have children in his life.

Because of the curse of youth.

'I don't know how to thank you, Shandel.'

He said so.

'You gave me a second chance at life.'

That day, the old man in his nightgown cried and laughed, and in the quiet reception room, he knelt down in front of Shandel and wailed for half an hour. What happened in the past few days was like a vivid dream. He almost died, but miraculously survived and enjoyed the life of a rich man again.

This experience made him start thinking, thinking about some things that were really right.

"I want to use this money to support the poorhouse in the City of London."

He told Shandel while crying.

Because initially, he climbed up to another class through the poorhouse.

“I provide them with…”

The old man fell to his knees and cried bitterly.

Perhaps it was the life that would arrive in October that made him begin to fear and face up to the sins he had committed - perhaps it was only fear.

But Shandel knelt down, held his hand, and told him gently:
Not important, sir.

As long as you confess, the Father of All is willing to listen.

He spoke in a halting manner, making a vulgar and boring story even more vulgar and boring than the story itself.

——Besides vagrants and homeless women who cannot do night work, the largest number of people in the workhouse are children.

What could John Wells do with these children?

The answer is self-evident.

"At that time, I was still in the south. I took the opportunity to become the errand boy of the director of the institute..."

He confessed to the girl who was closest to God, hoping that through her, he could convey his confession to the Kingdom of God, hoping that the Father of All Things would have mercy on his child and ask Him not to sin against his only offspring...

“I can’t remember how many…”

"Maybe dozens... maybe hundreds..."

Those boys and girls who are still young and ignorant, with hope in their ignorance, are coaxed to different "good places" where they can be "well fed and warmly clothed" - the lucky ones among them become toys for enjoyment, while the unfortunate ones become daily necessities or furniture.

Those who are even more unlucky will become consumables for banquets.

John Wells had seen with his own eyes those cruel scenes that were not limited to blood and minced meat. He had seen them become hounds, hounds' wives, horse wives, or cesspools, "gifts" in some mysterious and spooky ceremonies, or rags that would never be allowed to walk upright again.

Old Wells was well prepared. He didn't have to confess and he knew where he would go after his death.

But now he began to fear.

He would not die in the late winter, but would slowly become rich and have servants of his choice, he could start collecting art again, spend his leisure time at the theatre, and go to all sorts of salons to discuss state affairs or horse racing, croquet, and boxing with all sorts of people.

He could even go hunting occasionally, or even just take a half-afternoon walk in the woods and have a couple of drinks served by his servants.

He has a child.

Maybe there will be more children in the future.

He will live another ten years...

No.

Twenty years.

He didn't want to suffer anymore, nor did he want his descendants to suffer even a little bit - he had to find a way to pull back the scale that was falling to the other side.

“As long as you do it, the Father of All will see it.”

The girl was as gentle as ever and gave him an answer that reassured him.

Old Wells decided.

He wants to use one fifth of his future earnings...

No.

At least half.

Donated to the church and the poorhouses in the City of London.

He wanted to atone for the sins he had committed in the first half of his life.

Just like Shandel said.

As long as he does.

The Father of all must see.

The old man's eyes were swollen from crying, and when he left the guest room, he scared the pregnant maid - when he saw her worried look, he felt happy, as if he had regained the feeling of his youth.

The feeling of being a man.

That powerful feeling of strength that can make a woman cry and a horse surrender... or vice versa.

This feeling not only made his heart beat faster, but also made him start to laugh at his previous self.

Wells, Wells.

Only cowards commit suicide.

What kind of witchcraft has bewitched your mind that makes you stupid enough to freeze yourself to death?
He lay on the bed, hugging the obedient maid, thinking about his equally bright future like a great man.

then.

The next morning.

In his cramped, cold brick house full of insects and ants and smelling bad.

He woke up.

(End of this chapter)