The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 592 Ch.591 Claudia Hayon Cavendish
Porto enjoys sunshine all year round.

Whether it is winter or summer, whether the wind is cold or hot, this place is always bathed in sunshine - if one must apply the holy words in the Book of Eden, Randolph even feels that this place is more like heaven than the description in blood and ink on the parchment scroll.

"'Endless wine, singing and joy. He wants his children to come around, and the children blow the trumpets'...but it doesn't say how to blow them." Randolph rolled up his sleeves halfway and wore a mouse-gray plaid hat like a porter, a vest of the same color, and a suspender shirt tucked under brown cloth trousers.

Roland was dressed similarly to him.

But when she was about to leave, she was caught by Beatrice, who used a small hot iron to curl her hair into curls, and then combed her black hair into a messy ponytail - according to the words of London gentlemen, it was a "how dare you" look.

But his skin was so good that Randolph always felt that his skin was a corpse that had been dead for more than ten days and then quietly walked onto the street after swallowing a lit candle.

On the other side of Randolph was a young girl.

She wore an impenetrable ankle-length dress made of thicker fabric than the curtains in Buckingham Palace, a silk scarf tied around her neck, and a huge light blue wide-brimmed hat on her head, decorated with ribbons, fruit, artificial flowers, and an entire stuffed bird.

The three men walking down the street looked nothing like people living in the same season and the same world - the two gentlemen seemed to be escorting an expensive specimen of man and nature somewhere.

This is what many passers-by think.

But they are not surprised. There are such people in the "holiday" port of Brighton. Even if they are as hot as a steak with delicious gravy after being cut, they will wrap themselves tightly inside and out to avoid being seen by these poor ghosts.

Even one glance will cost you half a century of dignity.

At this time, a group of people of the same class on the street would spontaneously gather together, glance at the "master" and "madam", laugh at them in a low voice, and make some jokes that were not very decent.

For example, if you are bored for a long time, a cat can do it, but a person can only ask another person for help...

——If you observe cats, you will find that they are indeed "gifted by nature".

Solitary animals really don't need to ask for help, right?
All in all, Randolph only accompanied the girl on the street for social purposes, and in order to shorten this stupid "date", he even went out of his way to invite Roland along, which was against the rules.

By the way.

The girl's name is:

Claudia Hayan Cavendish.

This girl with deep eye sockets, thick eyelashes, and the purest ochre hair and eyes is the youngest daughter of Jeff Cavendish, one of the four sons of the Cavendish family.

“And the most outstanding one.”

The girl, not feeling the heat at all, raised her chin slightly.

She always used the brim of her hat to hold the shadow, leaving only the part below the tip of her nose exposed to the sunlight, letting the dazzling light illuminate her plump lips and slightly protruding chin with a clear outline after the baby flesh had faded.

If the people around her were willing to be rude, she wouldn't mind if they took a quick glance at her snow-white neck under her scarf - some green lines hidden under the skin looked like flowing blood.

Randolph had no interest.

"Yes, Miss Cavendish, you are certainly the most outstanding one." The previous topic was about Jeff Cavendish and his many children, and inevitably also about the careers, lives, friends made by these brothers and sisters, and most importantly - their backgrounds.

This is where they have the biggest gap.

The mother of Miss Claudia Hayon Cavendish, Jeff Cavendish's real wife.

She is a girl with a "license plate" and the only direct descendant of the Cavendish family who can sense the "mystery".

This is not easy.

(Although Roland thought it was even more difficult for her to build a bird cage and a fruit tree in such hot weather.)
"There is no doubt about it, Mr. Taylor. Your union is the best choice at the moment - the best choice for both of us. You are a little scheming, a clever mind, and perhaps have inherited some of the Cavendish blood... I can't insult you like this, but I have to tell you the truth."

She paused.

"Some particularly 'lucky' parts. And I... I inherited the true 'power' - the power that Cavendish should truly possess, the ability to wield thunder and fire, a power far beyond the imagination of mortals."

"My eyes have seen the living and the dead. I can see their souls, read decay, and reverse the time that will never turn back..."

"People like us will have such power sooner or later." She was proud of her identity. Unlike those lonely and fragile girls who lacked protection because of servants, she walked calmly on the streets full of sweat and salt, ignoring all the good or bad looks around her, as if she was an old customer in the mall, talking to Randolph.

The pride in her heart is as irresistible as a tsunami. It forces people to shrink back, listen, and then worship her.

That's all they can do.

And that's all Claudia Hayon Cavendish wanted to see.

——Although she didn't even notice that there was a ritualist beside her.

She didn't seem to have any doubts as to why the young master of the Taylor family, who was clearly protected by a personal ritualist, was so abnormal as to go out on the street without him.

Maybe because the land belongs to Cavendish?

At least in her perception, this land still is.

"Ritualist?"

Randolph raised an eyebrow.

At this time, the businessman was holding a small bag of French fries wrapped in oil paper, while Roland was holding a paper bowl filled with the most popular sweet sauce oysters in the area.

Miss Hayang was somewhat disgusted by the lowly behavior of these two people who ate while walking, and their fingers were covered with grease, but for the sake of... for the sake of...

She still endured it.

And he politely declined the invitation from Mr. Golden Eyes.

"Thank you. I'm not used to using this kind of gesture on the street... Yes, Mr. Taylor, the ritualist. I believe you have heard of this magical name and have seen the power of the ritualist - what level is your servant?"

"Let me hear how far the Taylor family ritualists have gone."

Randolph sucked his thumb and index finger, then rubbed them on Roland's hem and changed his hand to hold the bag of chips. "Four rings, Miss Cavendish."

"Call me Hayon, or Claudia."

"Okay, Miss Hayon. Barton is a fourth ring - but I can't tell you which path he's on... All ritualists have this kind of tacit understanding, right?"

Hayan didn't speak in a hurry. He took out a plaid handkerchief from his dark blue square bag and handed it to Randolph. His slender hand was wearing a thin knitted glove, and his primary-colored, neatly trimmed oval nails could be seen.

She handed the handkerchief to the man beside her with a natural and graceful movement.

At the same time, these brief few seconds make it impossible to ignore the education, training and habits involved. The demeanor displayed in an instant contains so many fascinating tangible or intangible desires.

At least that’s what can be said about Porty Harbour in Brighton.

Arrived in London...

It's not worth mentioning.

At the parties to which Randolph was invited, even a servant would comment on the good and bad etiquette and manners.

Not to mention those great people who are truly worthy of respect, those ladies whose toes step on the petals chased by the morning dew every day.

But he did not spoil the fun. He bowed, took the handkerchief, and thanked her softly.

This made Miss Hayon even more satisfied.

Satisfied with his politeness, satisfied with her own etiquette - Roland saw that she was more satisfied with herself.

He and Randolph seemed to be two mirrors without facial features. As they walked along, they seemed to only reflect the demeanor of one person, making her sigh all the way that the Father of All Things created her by coincidence, which was such a proud thing.

(End of this chapter)