The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 552 Ch.551 Shandel's Lies
On snowy mountaintops or deep, dry caves in the ground, a terrifying man-eating dragon guards its treasure.

That's how it's always described in those banned books.

Now, there was no difference between Mason Lyle and the dragon.

It is still waiting for the butcher's knife of a heroic brave man, and it is still squatting in the deep, cold and lonely cave - but now, what it is guarding is not rare treasures, but its own fear and despair.

period.

He didn't get a drop of water or a crumb of bread.

Instead, he had a pen, a thick sheet of parchment, and a kerosene lamp.

The little gray-haired witch did not torture him, using an imaginary whip soaked in water, an iron rod, or a knife to cut his flesh and blood, and forcing him to tell her what bad things he had done - she really wanted to know, but she used a gentler method.

This made Mason Lyle a little disdainful at first.

'If I don't say anything, what will happen to me?'

At first, at first.

Over the next two days, the worms in his stomach began to gurgle non-stop. His saliva increased, so much that he had to swallow more frequently to prevent his fingers from uncontrollably pinching the shiny black beetle that was shaking its antennae and putting it in his mouth.

then.

And become less.

Like a mummy, drained of moisture by the desert, the water that was within reach flowed around the house where he lived, but he could only watch.

Day three.

He began to long for lakes and oceans.

The hated little witch often came to see him here, bringing delicious steaks, red wine, juicy fruits and greasy cakes.

They didn't enter any mouth.

It was just wasted on the ground, feeding the cracks in the bricks of the court.

Mason Lyle finally opened his mouth and begged for mercy from the 'young' girl whom he looked down upon, begging her to give him some water and a piece of...even black bread.

He said, "Miss, you are only ten years old, why do you want to abuse an elderly person?"

ten years old.

This number seemed to make the other party a little unhappy.

Mason Lyle wasn't sure.

She was maybe twelve…thirteen?

The result was that he could only smell the aroma of red wine throughout the afternoon... Who could sleep?

Fourth day.

He couldn't help it.

He felt that he was about to die here, without any so-called "dignity" or "decency" left. He couldn't help but turn his gaze to the pile of feces in the corner that gave birth to the wriggling white meat.

my own.

And then, and then…

He vomited.

He wrote while vomiting and crying, writing down his crimes.

Twenty minutes later.

He was given a bowl of broth and a piece of torn, soft white bread.

Mason Lyle swore that this was the best meal he had ever eaten.

Then...

What are you waiting for?
So, taking advantage of his satiety, he wrote down some harmless little crimes.

this time.

Not only was he given food and drink, but he was also given two well-rolled cigarettes.

Take a few sips by the flame of the oil lamp.

Excellent.

Heaven on earth.

Mason Lyle sat in the corner with a cigarette between his teeth, wiping the hard lumps of feces on his face and arms while thinking about how he would survive next - now it was no longer a question of how much to say or how to say it.

But once his 'crimes are written', he might never get food again.

He would starve to death.

That's what those guys are going to do, isn't it?
He curled up in a dark corner, pondering his chances of survival, not knowing that the written sin book had been delivered to the 'child' he was familiar with.

Halida could not read.

But she has ears.

'On October 5, I betrayed my friend. Of course, if he hadn't made the mistake, nothing would have happened, right?'

Shandel held the scroll and read it with the same reverence as he read the Book of Eden.

Halida silently clutched the gold pounds in her hand, lowered her head, and said nothing.

"...I swear on my soul to the Father of All Things. I have no bad intentions, I just want to live a better life - the benefactor is above, can't a man who works hard... Do you want a personal sock knitter, Halida?"

The sudden change of words made the dark-skinned girl stunned for a moment. She found that the gray-haired lady who frightened her was staring at...

Her feet.

Then to the calves and thighs.

And then…then.

His gaze was like a pair of real hands, gently kneading her flesh and blood like kneading a cotton-stuffed doll.

Like looking at an exquisite and beautiful gift.

"Miss..."

"There's nothing wrong with you calling me 'Miss'. Halida, do you know what to call Roland?" Shandel put down the paper and looked at her with a smile.

gentlemen?

Halida opened her mouth, and the word that came to her mind naturally became: "...Master."

"I'm more pleased with you."

Shandel stood up from the high-backed chair, walked to Halida's side, and leaned over to look at her.

The drooping gray hair fell on the other person's face.

It made Halida very itchy.

But she didn't dare move a finger.

She feared her.

Halida herself didn't know why. It was a sense that she couldn't explain, not like smelling burnt food with her nose and thinking of fire, seeing blood with her eyes and thinking of daggers, or hearing wailing with her ears and thinking of danger.

She is so beautiful.

Like an exquisite doll, there is no flaw at all.

Hair as soft as gray satin, a pair of clear blue eyes that sometimes sparkled in the light, thick eyelashes, a small nose pressed on a straight upturned bridge, and two lips that were full of water - she seemed like a child who never grew up, always needing someone to hug her and say gentle and sweet words to her.

But I don’t know why.

Halida was simply afraid of her.

I'm scared from the bottom of my heart.

"You should know your future fate. My kind lover will send you to Taylor's house to receive a little education, and then you will be his maid until death."

With his fingers, Shandel gently pushed aside the black hair that blocked Halida's eyes, and stared at her eyelashes that were trembling like butterfly wings and her silver eyes that were full of fear.

"You're so happy, aren't you, little dog? You can be closer to him than anyone else, stick to him all day, accompany him, watch him - you can stay up all night and stare at him quietly, right?"

Shandel suddenly laughed, got close to Halida's face before she could react, and strangled her with his palm.

then.

Tighten firmly.

"You are so happy in your heart, don't think I can't see it," the girl whispered in Halida's ear with a playful look on her face, "You might even secretly kiss the spoons and knives and forks he used, and smell the clothes, socks, and underpants he prepared to wash... Oh, by the way. You might like his toilet more, I guess..."

Some vicious yet ambiguous words that made the blood boil were spoken through the two beautiful red lips and into the dark ear.

"I kind of like you, and kind of hate you."

"How to do it?"

Halida's eyes blinked like crazy, and her two slender arms were raised up by instinct, trying to push away the woman who was about to strangle her - but at the critical moment, she held back.

She was afraid of the consequences of pushing it away.

She was so timid that she would rather be strangled to death in this narrow room than dare to truly resist.

Fortunately, this 'gray-haired bad woman' doesn't want to kill her yet.

Halida was released, bent over, and began to cough violently.

"Roland Collins is a cultist. You saw it with your own eyes, didn't you?" Shandel put his hands behind his back, lowered his head, and smiled sweetly: "Do you see a brother in him... or a mother? This trick is not something that can be used by those who practice the orthodox rituals."

"Halida."

"Shall we make a bet?"

There was a hint of teasing in the girl's clear eyes.

She bent down slowly, but her voice became softer and softer.

"Three days."

she says.

"Mason Lyle knows this secret. He knows that Roland Collins is a cultist." Shandel blinked: "I will not kill him, and I am not qualified to judge him... In three days, other executive officers will interrogate him. By then... some secrets will no longer be hidden."

"Halida, do you know what happened to the cultists?"

Shandel grabbed the wrist of the woman on the chair, lifted it up, and used his index finger to pinch it, moving it towards the candle on the table.

—Let the flame bite her finger.

"He'll burn."

Shandel picked out a key and gently placed it on the table, smiling brightly: "Of course, of course. Maybe I lied to you, and I lied to you about all this... right?"

(End of this chapter)