The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 585 Ch.584 Father's Name

Bellows Taylor doesn't remember who he is.

Then he probably wouldn't remember who Beatrice Taylor and Randolph Taylor were.

After finishing the heavy talk, the two men, who had a tacit understanding, stopped letting their 'disgusting' emotions grow wildly and instead talked about something more practical: Bellos Taylor's condition.

Randolph said his father wasn't like this at the beginning.

At first I just forgot the way, the purpose of going out, forgot to put on socks, forgot the maid's name, forgot the date and the favorite cigar -

It was as if in his orderly memory channel that smelled of tobacco and sea breeze there was a rotten sore that was constantly dripping with pus.

It corroded the pipes bit by bit, and over the years, they were completely rotten, rusted and broken, confusing Bellows Taylor's brain:

He couldn't tell the difference between winter and summer, and didn't know if he had eaten enough or not. If no one reminded him, he would eat seven or eight meals a day.

Everything around him was strange to him.

This caused him pain and also pain for his son who was taking care of his father.

"You know, I can't accept him looking at me, looking at me carefully, even for ten minutes, and then telling me: You are fine, kid. But I really don't have a wife or children, how can I be your father?"

Randolph rubbed his stiff face, took the cigar that Roland had cut, lowered his head, and lit it with a few matches.

"I wanted to take him back to London, but in the few times we spoke soberly, he kept warning me not to take him away from here."

Randolph propped his face up with the heels of his palms. He was like a cannon with a strong recoil. After a bang, cheers and buzzing, all that was left was a pair of trembling hands and an empty and confused soul.

He didn't know how to face himself, face his father, how to talk to Beatrice, or how to accept his impending death.

"He is ill, and I don't want him to be confused before he dies..."

Randolph silently created his own smoke, mixing it with that of the cigar.

The family business prevents him from leaving London for a long time, and his father's warning makes Randolph a frequent passenger on the train. In addition, there is Jeff Cavendish, who is greedy but not as smart as a pig, and his aunt Bethany Cavendish, who has many small thoughts... At the same time, he has to deal with the trivial matters of the golden smoke, and now, there is a fountain of youth.

Randolph is busy.

"You'd better keep your mouth shut, Roland." Randolph sneered, "My father is ill, and his temper is getting worse and worse. He often likes to use that cane to beat the servants' buttocks..."

Roland blinked: "I'm famous for being well-behaved."

There was some malice in Randolph's smile: "I won't let anyone help you then, Roland. If -"

crunch.

The sudden voice made the two men turn their heads.

Corner wardrobe.

Pushed away.

An old man wearing a light blue star-patterned robe and a nightcap on his head walked out with his head held high.

He was holding a black cane with a gold rose pattern, tapping it as he walked. When he saw the two young men in a daze, he curled his lips in displeasure: "You should come visit me more often, my child."

Without waiting for Randolph to smile in surprise and joy, he picked up his cane and walked up to him in two or three steps.

He hugged Roland and patted his back hard.

"Good boy! As handsome as I was in my youth! How long has it been since we last met?"

Randolph: ...

Roland turned his head slightly and asked Randolph, "Is it too late for me to start learning about business and tobacco now?"

Randolph punched him in the back.

…………

...Beatrice hasn't seen her father for many years.

She almost didn't recognize Bellows Taylor, and Bellows didn't recognize his own daughter - which was good, too, one old and one young, two strangers sitting opposite each other on the sofa, one talking and spitting stories about the sea, the other holding a teacup, covering the rim of the cup with his palm, listening obediently to his crazy talk.

Theresa stood aside, wiping away tears quietly.

She was miserable.

“…The master was not like this when he was young.”

She served Bellows Taylor all her life.

"I am willing to exchange my life for his health..."

Randolph pursed his lips.

Who wouldn’t want to?
"…Then? Haha! My artillery is no pushover! Bang! Do you know how loud that is? Bang! Even with your ears blocked, you can still feel the entire deck shaking! I just yelled like that, one shot after another! Those fake guys didn't dare to say a word, they were pissing their ass off—"

As he was talking, the old man suddenly became quiet.

He looked around the living room with the Taylor family's iconic eyes, and a look of doubt appeared on his wrinkled face.

then.

It's embarrassment and panic.

"Who are you?"

"Betty!" Beatrice carefully moved her hand away from the cup, took a quick sip, and quickly covered it with her hand: "Betty! Taylor!"

Bellows narrowed his eyes.

The faint purple in his eyes had long been disrupted by the turbidity, and the only gentleness disappeared along with the sound of gunfire, and could no longer be found.

He became sluggish, holding his knees in a proper manner, like a living corpse, sitting quietly on the sofa. His blond hair had faded, driven back by the paleness, and he was deeply trapped in a trance, like a child who had lived for a thousand years and had no time to fight against the loneliness that was rushing towards him.

He just stood there in public, his two helpless lips stuck tightly to each other, and would not separate no matter who threatened him.

Anyone with a soft heart would sigh after seeing this scene: It's so sad. Is this still considered living?
Randolph wanted to say something, but the servant came over quickly and whispered something to him.

soon.

A brown-haired, brown-eyed woman was escorted into the house.

She is of slender figure and elegant manners.

She was wearing a set of ochre-colored round-patterned long skirt with pearls. If the petticoat was a little wider, she wouldn't be able to fit through the door.

She took every small step according to the rules, and even though there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and age spots on her face, she still swayed like a young lady.

This elegance grows with age and permeates every inch of her flesh and blood.

She walked slowly into the room while everyone was waiting. After she stood still, her chin slightly deviated from the predetermined trajectory. At the same time, her pale face squeezed out an expression similar to that of someone who had eaten unclean fish and was about to face turbulence, but still insisted on discussing with others what technique was used in the oil painting in front of her.

She greeted Randolph, and her surprise was obvious to everyone.

It was made up on the spot.

"I've missed you so much, Randolph." She was very restrained in her enthusiasm, as if someone was holding a knife to her neck and she was afraid that if she crossed the line, the blade would bleed, which would be the same as eating bad fish.

"Aunt Bethany." Randolph stood up and saluted. "Long time no see. I miss you, Jeff, the cobblestones here, the sea breeze, and the sunshine that shines through the city."

Bethany tried to smile, but her lips formed wrinkles instead.

"That's great, Randolph. Seeing you is like seeing the Jocelyn of the past... Oh, this is Beatrice, right? Let me take a look, you've grown up so fast..."

(End of this chapter)