The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 587 Ch.586 The Disordered Pocket Watch

"I don't know why she insisted on finding me a wife."

Second floor bedroom.

Randolph was working on the final release of the Fountain of Youth. Roland was being served by Theresa and was talking to Beatrice: One moment he said Randolph was pitiful, because your brother would not even give up his life for money, and the next moment he said your brother was only a handsome gentleman when he was working...

Randolph was furious.

"Is the Fountain of Youth my own business, Lord Roland Collins?"

Lord Roland Collins simply told him 'miserably': I am blind.

Then he continued to whisper into Beatrice's ear: "If you suddenly put your little hand into his collar..."

"Roland Collins!"

"Okay, Mr. Whiskey." Roland spread out his hands and pointed to the glass of brown liquor on the table that reflected the light of the oil lamp. "What can your servant do for you?"

Randolph stared at him for a moment and said, "Come here and give me a back rub."

Theresa: Phew.

Beatrice: Hehehe.

"Are you kidding me?"

"You were the one who joked with me first," Randolph rolled his eyes and threw the pen in his hand onto the table, leaving a streak of ink on the paper. "I don't know why she insisted on finding me a wife."

Back to the original topic.

Theresa believed that Bethany Cavendish was just a conservative, rule-abiding lady, and as a family elder, there was nothing wrong with her words - but both Roland and Randolph more or less noticed something strange in each other's words.

Randolph couldn't put it into words, he just felt something was wrong.

"She's too eager, Randolph." Roland pointed out the problem. "Unless the wife candidate is herself, I think everything makes sense."

This time it was Teresa's turn to roll her eyes.

"Roland, this is not funny at all."

"Why don't you call me 'Mr. Collins' like you do outside?"

Theresa: ...

"I almost forgot to ask, Randolph. Does your father like collecting watches?" Roland stroked Beatrice's blonde hair carelessly, and a hint of laziness appeared on the face of the girl with a pointed chin - this made Theresa angry and relieved.

"Clock?"

Randolph lowered his eyes slightly: "...No, Roland, I haven't heard that he has such a hobby."

“How often are the rooms cleaned?”

Randolph didn't know about this either. When he lived here, he had to clean almost every day, but if he returned to London and handed it over to Bethany Cavendish to manage it - who knows?
“Does the pattern on the door have any symbolic meaning?”

Randolph silently turned his chair to another direction, his dull blue eyes like a quiet river frozen in late winter.

"Roland, just tell me what you found."

Roland's tone was calm: "There is a ritual going on in the villa."

crunch.

Teresa's entire body weight instantly shifted to her toes.

She hunched her back like a novice who was jolted on a horse but couldn't find the reins. One arm was bent, covering her dizzy forehead, while the other arm stretched forward, trying to hold Roland's shoulder.

Roland grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard.

"Don't worry, Theresa."

"...No! No! There must be someone! Someone must want to harm the master! It must be the Cavendish bitches! They used to..." Theresa's voice was sharp as if she was the person involved in a midnight murder. Her face was like a piece of paper that was wet and crumpled by anger, and she stared at Roland with a hideous look that could never recover.

But before that.

Randolph had his own doubts: "Teresa, what happened to them before?"

Theresa's face was gloomy and her dry lips were tightly pursed.

at this time.

There was a knock on the door.

knock knock.

Twist open a crack.

“…Patton?” Randolph saw that it was his ritualist and waved his hand quickly: “Come in, I have something to ask you—” “Young Master.” The square-faced man looked embarrassed and pointed behind him as he walked in.

A cane was pressed against his waist.

Bellos Taylor, wearing a night cap, was furious, his eyes sharp: "Who are you? How dare you steal my head?"

Randolph: ...

He rubbed his forehead tiredly.

…………

……

What’s interesting is that although Bellos Taylor couldn’t remember who he was, he knew clearly that this was his home and his territory.

"…So, you are guests?" Old Bellos looked suspicious: "Whose guests?"

"That depends on who you remember." Randolph said in a light tone.

Bang!
Belos smashed the table with his stick!
"Answer my question, boy!"

"I'm Taylor. Randolph Taylor, Dad. And you're Bellows Taylor—you can see the similarities, can't you?" Randolph stared at the man holding the stick.

A hint of surprise flashed across his angry face.

then.

Becoming more angry.

"Although you are a good young man, I'm afraid you can't fool me!" The old man raised the stick in his hand proudly: "I don't have any children, stupid thief."

Roland felt that it was time for him to leave.

He led Beatrice out of the room with Theresa and Barton.

Bellos Taylor was about to stop her, but when she saw Beatrice smiling and waving goodbye to her, she hesitated.

then.

The door was closed.

"…I always feel like there's something wrong with you. Tell me, who sent you here to steal things? And there are two women? Thieves these days are really…"

Randolph felt depressed.

He stared at his father's old face in the firelight. The face that was once full of ambition now looked like a madman who had built his nest in a garbage dump.

He no longer had the courage to command the waves, the authority that made people bow to him forever.

He was so old that his face was covered with spots, and his skin was so thin that it stuck to his bones, and he drooped like a reptile.

As he got closer, Randolph could still smell a faint stench from him.

His crotch was bloated, and he had to wear several layers of cloth bags to avoid the trouble of cleaning up after defecation - he could hardly live a normal life on his own, his body moved forward, but his soul turned back without hesitation.

"what is this?"

While Randolph was silent, Bellos put down his cane early and picked up a pocket watch on the table.

Randolph's pocket watch.

"This is..." He looked at the watch hands carefully, then put it to his ear and listened.

Click.

Click, click…

In an instant, he threw it down in a hurry as if his hand was burned!
"It's a bomb!"

He growled!
"Bomb! It's a bomb!"

He threw away his pocket watch, without bothering to pick up the stick on the ground, and ran away barefoot without looking back!

"It's a bomb!" he yelled as he ran. "A bomb! There's a bomb in the servants' room!"

Randolph raised his head slightly, the blue ocean in his eyes surging silently.

There were two cracks on the glass surface of the silver-cased pocket watch.

"dad…"

Randolph is like a pocket watch.

(End of this chapter)