The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 593: Primitive People
Cavendish is so confident that his score won't be too low.

And when Randolph inquired, she indeed matched Roland's judgment of her all along: she proudly told her 'fiancé' that she had become the official ceremony participant.

"…What?"

Randolph didn't hear.

"I say, the formal ceremonial master, Mr. Taylor." She pursed her lips, and her two prune but still lush eyebrows drew together - she was a little annoyed that she shouldn't have said it on this occasion, and should have waited until dinner, drank a few glasses of wine, and said it when the butler Barton was present when the conversation was in full swing.

By then, her fiancé should understand what a formal ceremony master means.

It means a possibility that is perhaps infinite.

At her age, being a First Ring Ritualist is indeed something to be proud of.

Ritualists are not common.

"I don't think you know... Oh, can I call you Randolph?"

Randolph smiled stiffly, "Why not, Hayon."

"That's great," the woman nodded rather modestly, glancing at the poor man next door who was going crazy over oysters, and said in a steady voice: "The boundary between mortals and ritualists is like the boundary between the poor and you and me, Randolph. There is an unbridgeable gap between them..."

"Forgive my arrogance, but this is indeed difficult to express in words. If one day you become a ritualist, you will understand what I mean."

There was a flash of excitement in those conservative and steady eyes.

"It is an unprecedented magical realm. We saw invisible things with our eyes and touched another level of 'world' with our extended limbs - the real world. That is the other side that mortals cannot touch in their entire lives... the other side of the false world."

She spoke as if reciting a long poem, and the bird and ribbon on the top of her hat trembled as she swayed.

"We will eventually reach the true... reality."

Randolph listened carefully and sighed softly: "That's a pity."

He said.

"I don't have such an opportunity, Hayan. If I did, I would probably do whatever it takes to see what you call 'the truth'."

“Yes, but some people are always willing to seek the company of a ritualist, precisely because they realize this and want to gain a chance for their offspring…” What Hayan was hinting at was self-evident.

She passed by lightly, and after noticing that Randolph's smile became even wider, she even gave "instructions" to this man who was a big shot in the London business world.

"I don't know how much honor those tobaccos can bring to the Taylor family, Randolph. We should pay more attention to tradition, continue the bloodline of Cavendish, and revive the glory of the former 'original people' - this is what we should fight for all our lives."

Primitive people?

Randolph was stunned.

"What do you mean by 'original people', Hayon?"

Claudia Hayon Cavendish did not explain.

She just smiled at Randolph and changed the subject lightly: "I have been to school, I can speak three languages, and I started managing the servants of the old house three years ago. Let's not talk about sewing. If you want to talk to me about painting, literature, music, and even sculpture - I am very interested in all of these. Recently, I have also started reading books about tobacco..."

Randolph narrowed his eyes: "You must be a good wife."

Hayan showed a perfect amount of shyness: "That depends on who my husband is."

Actually.

A real lady would never say these words in person.

Roland didn't know, but Randolph had seen a lot of them. Generally speaking, it was difficult to talk about such "out-of-bounds" topics with these unmarried girls. Before that, the servants who were watching them would use their eyes or words to cut off the conversation fiercely.

They each have their own abilities, but they never tell anyone about them in person, and they are served by servants when they travel.

They may read poems, write poems, shoot arrows, ride horses, drill wells, dig mines, throw discus in private. In short, you can't know what kind of "skills" the girl in the box has before you have them completely.

And these skills will gradually flourish in marriage...or disappear completely.

It depends on her husband, and her own thoughts.

No truly decent, well-educated girl would go to the man she loves and say, "I can speak three languages, manage servants, have been to school, and like painting and literature." Unless she wants to elope with you.

If this is the case, men only have one thing to consider.

You'd better pray that her hobby is not discus throwing, and that she doesn't have any metal products in her hands - otherwise, after she abandons her family, parents, siblings, and escapes through a difficult operation, she will have to face an "sorry" answer...

It is hard to say whether human flesh is harder than metal.

Not necessarily.

But no fool would try.

Of course, there are such cases.

For example, Randolph once heard at a banquet that a girl from a good family was divorced by her fiancé who had already scheduled the wedding date, which made her lose face in the circle - for a long time, no man was willing to get in touch with this girl who "must have something wrong with her"...

then.

She found an opportunity for autumn hunting, met the handsome gentleman on the hunting ground, and 'accidentally' fired her gun, hitting the back of his head with two bullets.

Human flesh has proven to be tougher than metal, and there are many hobbies more dangerous than discus throwing.

For example, hunting, or not keeping one’s word.

and so.

This cousin of his is really ridiculous.

The Cavendish family wanted to bring out the best and show "nobility" and "elegance" in front of him - Randolph could only say that this approach was completely wrong.

Country people.

This was his judgment of the Cavendish family.

Even though they were once extremely rich, everyone in Porto knew it.

Still a country boy.

Roland was younger than her, but he was already an executive officer of the Inquisition. His friend looked even younger, and he was already a ritualist who could quietly climb over walls and break into houses in the middle of the night.

Although he didn't like Rose doing this, he also didn't like it when she said, "You can't do this, it's easy to get hurt," and then she said, "Do you say the same thing to Miss Bronte?"...

Roland's illness is highly contagious.

Oh.

Speaking of Roland...

Roland...

Where's Roland?!

Randolph then turned around quickly.

There was no trace of the black-haired young man in the crowd.

soon.

A 'date' between three people became a 'reasonable date between two people' - and then, after Randolph discovered Roland's disappearance, it became 'me and the country girl looking for my idiot friend'...

It took about ten minutes.

Randolph finally found his idiot friend in an alley.

The other party bought a bag of new 'specialties': long shrimps fried in butter. He held the strips rolled in oil paper, occasionally taking one out and putting it in his mouth, chewing it with a crunching sound.

He was watching a group of children.

Perhaps they were children who were too busy to be looked after by tenants, boatmen or vendors, with their sleeves rolled up, wearing the cheapest plaid hats and shoes two sizes too big, and they were shouting and yelling as they surrounded a strange, dying cat.

(End of this chapter)