The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 550 Ch.549 Do you like it?
Mason Lyle was in the dungeon.

Frankly speaking, Roland had never been to the dungeon of the Inquisition. But he had fantasized about:

There were blades everywhere, sharp iron racks with flesh hanging on them, whips, drills, saws, bone-cutting knives of different sizes, and the wailing that never stopped day and night...

Actually, no.

The dungeons of the Inquisition were surprisingly clean.

The slate was wiped clean and every oil lamp was kept lit.

There are no unnecessary decorations on the walls; art is not pursued here.

Some metallic patterns were carved at the entrance to the underground, surrounding the iron door of the entire dungeon, and from a distance it looked like a flaming sword.

'Step in.'

'This is the place of divine judgment.'

Mason Lyle was imprisoned here.

With food and drink, few people would use a knife or a saw to attack his toes.

——Roland wanted to do this, but Shandel stopped him.

"You want to avenge your friend with a different color, don't you?"

The color is different...

"This gray-head really has no self-awareness at all."

"I can't think of any reason to keep him alive, Shandel," Roland said.

What's more, they found alien species in its suitcase.

This completely proves the guilt.

Roland had no intention of interrogating him to get any answers, just to listen to the confession of a man whose piety he was not sure whether or not.

Blood and pain are the best reward for hatred.

"I don't recommend you torture him."

Shandel was stroking her gray hair, and this action suddenly reminded her of a thief who was writing furiously at home. She could have been the one to catch Mason Lyle, and even other executives were willing to help Roland...

He insisted on calling that woman.

'Participation, Shandel. You have to make our members feel a little involved.'

Sense of participation?
Shandel glanced at the man fiddling with the crystal bottle and pursed his lips silently.

She could accept Halida, but that didn't mean she could accept Rose.

Because there are some 'little games' that even a weak-hearted little *dog is willing to participate in by wagging its tail - she can't, and doesn't dare, to be manipulated uncomfortably.

But the thief would never do that.

She is trouble.

It would be nice if I could disappear unexpectedly...

A thought flashed across his young face.

"So, the reason you don't suggest me to torture him is not because you are interested in him." Roland held the crystal bottle, stared at the goblin in the bottle, and shook it from time to time, causing the little monster inside to scream with its fangs and claws bared.

interested?
Shandel's pupils suddenly contracted, the corners of her mouth raised, and with a series of crisp clicks, she picked up the hem of her skirt and walked around behind Roland.

She pressed her chin against Roland's neck, leaned over, and breathed softly at him.

“…Is it jealousy?”

The clear, unclouded gem was covered with a strange, greedy light.

Roland put down the bottle and sighed: "I just think that if he falls into your hands, even death may become-"

The voice paused.

"Well, a little."

"Not at all, Roland, I know." Shandel smiled with satisfaction, tapping the last button of his shirt with his five opened fingers, "But I like you to say that."

She liked Roland saying that.

But it doesn't like buttons.

But just like going to the theater you have to pass through a cross street.

Some buttons are a must.

Just like the ups and downs of a performance, there is always a low overture that lurks in the ears of the audience in advance, tempting the audience to concentrate and wait for the upcoming charming wave that will be pushed up again and again by the musicians and overwhelm people.

Since it is looking for the strong miner who has passed through the narrow road, it must start by greeting him from the buttons and tell him: I am here.

It must be said that Shandel always gets what she wants.

The long gray hair that looked like a pale waterfall intertwined with the man's black hair. Accompanied by the echoing screams of alien species, the witch who was to be hanged stared at the profile of the man who was holding his breath and prayed softly:

'Give my best wishes to the All-Father...'

'My piety, the blood of my beloved.'

She had a seductive smile, and in this empty dungeon ruled by no one, she became the mother of all that breathed.

…………

……

Roland became particularly rational after coming out of the dungeon. Of course, this was not the 'reason' that Cinder persuaded him to do - the real reason was that Halida became an 'apprentice'.

And Shandel can help Halida find the true "path".

A path that suits her perfectly.

This was a deal, a small act of capriciousness between a suffering lover and her chosen whipper - Shandel believed that he was qualified, and was also sure that Roland would need such help later:

"Apprenticeship" is just the beginning.

Only after reaching at least one level can one call himself a ritualist and "slightly" exert powers that surpass those of ordinary people.

--To be honest, ritualists before the third ring are not 'very interesting' and can easily die from a simple trap or a bullet from the back of the head.

Even the fourth ring.

Fernandez de Vinson is a ritualist who possesses a "mystical organ"...

No, it should be said:
The grand ceremony is so important.

The "Sword of Judgment" of the "Holy Flame" can instantly transform a ring.

Unfortunately, the grand rituals of each path are exclusive.

What a pity.

So, Roland agreed to Shandel.

He didn't necessarily want to invite Halida to become a winged being, but he always hoped that this friend who had fallen into the abyss would have some power to protect herself.

"If I don't agree, you will do the same, right?"

"You'll agree."

Shandel licked the corner of his mouth.

She was...confident...that she could use her voice...to convince...Roland—

Frankly speaking, Shandel has discovered a lot of interesting things about Roland recently.

This was something she had heard countless times during her days in the convent.

It is what those women who are 'unclean' and need to 'repent' and 'purify' have talked about countless times.

such as.

They said.

Men are powerful, dangerous, rude, and have beasts at heart.

But as long as you find the 'key', they can also be gentle, whimpering, tearful, childish, open-hearted, and well-behaved.

Shandel liked the contrast.

And he truly felt the scorching heat created by the friction between brutality, gloom and tension in his master.

She wished she could soak in his boiling water all day, drink his white blood, and then put on a skirt, twirl her skirt in the East End, sing loudly, and let the whole of London smell their happy and blasphemous miracle.

Shandel hopes someone can understand her inner wishes.

pity.

She hasn't found a good opportunity to make it happen yet.

Maybe…

Roland likes it too?
With his eyes twinkling, Shandel hummed a song and walked quickly through the corridor.

The room that housed Halida was about to become unusable - when this was over, she would leave the Inquisition.

But now, she is still a little bit short of qualification.

dong dong.

Shandel knocked on the door.

But he didn't wait for the people in the room to invite him, and just pushed the door open and walked in.

The girl sitting on the chair covered with a velvet blanket was so frightened that she knocked over her teacup and stood up straight!

"Ma'am, ma'am, ma'am..."

"Call me Shandel." Shandel bent his knees and closed the door with his backhand.

The shiny little leather boots stepped across the carpet and came to Halida...

Take another step back.

Because Halida was half a head taller than her.

"how are you today?"

This was the same greeting as "Good day", and Halida really didn't know how to respond.

“…Okay?” She hunched over, her shrimp-like posture really looked ugly. “I…I’m fine, sir.”

"Call me Shandel."

The girl breathed softly, blowing away the black hair that was covering half of Halida's face.

The strong smell made the girl, who was at a loss, subconsciously shrug her nose.

"Does it smell good?" Shandel asked teasingly, standing on tiptoe a few times, and seemed to be in a very happy mood: "I guessed you would like it."

(End of this chapter)