The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 503 Ch.502 Bronte's Wish
Randolph finally relaxed after Glenn left.

He sank into the sofa, closed his eyes and thought deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose again and again.

After a few minutes, he stood up and went to the other side of the living room: the fireplace, where Roland was sitting.

At this time, the man by the fireplace had finished smoking a cigar and was humming a song boredly and chatting with Tereza.

When Randolph came over, Theresa immediately bowed and slowly walked out of the living room.

“There are all kinds of troubles every day.”

The pointed-faced businessman sighed deeply, as if he was about to blow out the flames in the fireplace.

“This is who I am every day.”

"I see you're enjoying it." Roland turned over a glass, flicked it with his finger, and pushed it in front of Randolph.

"Let me tell you, my brother. Only the most boring and stupid people, who can't find anything interesting except toying with people, will enjoy it." Randolph whispered back, picked up the bottle and poured it roughly into the wide-mouthed cup.

Goo-dong, goo-dong, goo-dong.

He pinched the rim of the cup, leaned over and knocked the cup in front of Roland. After a not-so-crisp clinking sound, he raised his head and drank it all in one gulp.

He pulled off his bow tie and untied the gray button that was trapping his neck.

Loosen your cervical vertebrae left and right.

"It's very tiring, Roland. This is what business is all about." He didn't actually tell Roland all of this, but usually no one could hear it. "I have to be careful when dealing with those who are lower than me. I have to pretend to have different personalities based on their positions, roles, and backgrounds, and use different tones to achieve various goals."

"Likewise, I have to be cautious when dealing with those masters who are higher than me. Like Glenn, I have to analyze every word in their sentences word by word, pick out a few key words from the bloated mountain of nonsense, chew them in my mouth, and guess."

As he was speaking, he swore.

"It's like a pile of fucking shit, and I have to scoop it up with a special spoon and not make an indecent expression when I taste it."

His narrow eyes stared at the fireplace with great harshness, watching the occasional crackling sparks, watching them suddenly explode like his own emotions, and then turn into ashes in the next second.

The glass was filled a second time.

The second time I drank it all in one gulp.

"You put too much pressure on yourself, Randolph. Maybe I shouldn't give you more trouble - I mean, the Fountain of Youth."

Randolph glanced at Roland silently and sneered: "If the Golden Mist is like our supreme little girl, the Fountain of Youth is just your thief or..." He suddenly lowered his voice and looked around slyly, "...or Bronte."

Roland suddenly said in a loud voice: "Why are you speaking so quietly?"

Randolph elbowed him, and after a while, he laughed softly again.

The two of them drank in silence, taking turns to sip.

Until the bottle of whiskey was empty.

"...To be honest, I admit that I did something wrong." Randolph put down his glass, a trace of fatigue flashed across his face, he bent over and turned his head to Roland: "That is the "Fountain of Youth" of Lillian, Roland and Randolph. It is not the second "Golden Smoke" of the Taylor family."

Roland said nothing.

"I mean... Roland, I'm like a hen incubating eggs, but my name shouldn't be the only one on the eggshell."

Hines' behavior made Randolph suddenly realize that he had overlooked one thing before - his long-term "dictatorship" made him forget that the "Fountain of Youth" did not belong to him alone.

"We agreed on this before." Roland said lightly.

"I regret it now," the merchant said with a cunning look in his eyes. He lowered his voice and said, "Listen, Roland. I don't care what your relationship with our 'clever' girl is - I will visit your relatives before the end of winter."

"I don't want you to kick down my door one day and ask me, 'Isn't that our common cause?'"

Roland laughed. "Of course not, Randolph. I'm not that kind of person."

"Of course I know you don't—"

"You will only find Miss Bronte and your sister in my bedroom."

Randolph: ...

"Fuck, Roland, I'm talking to you about something serious."

Roland rubbed the nonexistent beard on his upper lip with his fingers, stroking it a few times in a pretentious manner: "You can only take one person away..."

"Roland."

“And then something really terrible will happen.”

"Roland."

"Don't you want to know what's so terrible?"

Randolph: ...

Because I can't beat him.

"What a horrible thing."

Roland: "You have to tell me first who you want to take away."

Randolph: "...My, sister?"

Roland: "Your sister won't go with you."

Randolph: ...Whiff.

"All right. All right. Roland, I choose Miss Bronte."

Roland: "Bronte won't go with you either."

Randolph slammed the table when he heard this: "There's no way she won't go with me!"

Roland blinked.

Before waiting for an answer, Randolph heard a crisp "ah" not far behind him.

Beatrice, still sleepy, pulled Bronte along.

"I was just playing 'Silence' with the little bear... Roland, don't take Bronte away... I... can go with you..."

"What a good girl who sacrifices others for herself."

The girl with messy blonde hair shook off Bronte's hand, ran over, and threw herself into Roland's arms, purring like an overgrown cat.

then.

Only Bronte and Randolph were left staring at each other silently.

Bronte:?

Randolph: Just off the topic, really.

…………

……

This annoying prank does not deepen the relationship between two men and women who know each other well (maybe?), but instead makes them more embarrassed.

For example, when Roland held Beatrice in his arms and told her a story.

Randolph has already started calculating in his mind which city Golden Smoke should open a branch in next year...

He didn't know what to say to Bronte.

But someone knows.

The voice of that damn man came to my ears.

Roland: We praise the Father of all things because He works miracles on earth.

Beatrice: Really?
Roland: Of course. Let me tell you in secret, Betty, there are many such miracles recorded in the files.

Beatrice: What's a dossier?
Roland: A Collection of Stories.

Beatrice: Oh. What about miracles?

Roland: That's the greatness of the All-Father. You know the All-Father, don't you?

Beatrice: Yes! Yes!
Roland: That's great. A miracle is... like, I'm just assuming.

Beatrice: Oh.

Roland: Suppose one day your brother and Miss Bronte were travelling.

Beatrice: Little Bear and his brother?
Roland: That's right. The two of them were traveling by car, but they encountered a rockfall on the road. The huge rock smashed half of Randolph's body, and he vomited blood and almost died -

Beatrice: I don't want my brother to die!
Roland: Of course, of course. At this time, Bronte prayed to the Father of All Things. She prayed, saying, "Father of All Things, the lofty and great Father God. Please have mercy on me, a poor woman who is about to leave with love..."

Roland: Guess what?

(Beatrice concentrates)

Roland: A person radiating dazzling golden light has arrived!

Beatrice (surprised): My brother is alive!

Roland: No, no, it is the All-Father, dear. He saw the suffering on earth and sent a gift.

Roland: He asked the woman who was praying, and the tearful Brontë: 'I hear your prayer, child. I see your pain.'

Roland: "Please help me, father!" Bronte pleaded.

Roland: The All-Father loves all things. Of course, He agreed to Brontë's request. He said that she was devout enough, so He could grant her one wish - no matter what it was.

Roland: Bronte couldn't believe it - 'Really? Father God?'

Roland: The Father of All Things nodded lovingly.

Roland: 'Anything?'

Roland: 'Anything is fine, child,' said the All-Father.

Beatrice (clapping her hands): Then! Then!
Roland: And then. Miss Bronte knelt beside Randolph's broken body, holding his bloody hand tightly...

Roland: 'Please let my novel become popular all over the country!'

Randolph: ...

Bronte: Phew.

(End of this chapter)