The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 595 Ch.594 Newsboys' Information
Randolph assured.

Five minutes ago, he spoke the fastest sentence in his life - he spoke eloquently and clearly, explaining to the angry bull why the fried shrimp appeared in his hands, his friend's stupidity and jerk, and that he was willing to pay double the price for the fried shrimp...

To compensate the other party for its losses.

He felt that he was almost, just almost, about to get hit hard.

Who should we thank for this?

His idiot best friend, Roland Collins.

"I think you could run for mayor, just based on those teeth, Randolph."

"I should run for your father and then drown you in the toilet--" Randolph cursed and tore open his collar, his eyes sweeping over Hayon.

The woman was looking at him and avoiding him with a look that said 'Don't get me infected', and she stood far away.

Randolph: ...

"She'll say bad things about me when she gets home, Roland, can you please be more careful next time?!"

"I think Miss Claudia is a good match for you."

"You like her? I might as well give her to you." Randolph sneered, "A woman like this would probably annoy me to death every day."

Roland warned: "Don't think about my Halida."

"I didn't mean to just be dumb... Never mind." Randolph really had no other way to deal with him. He took off his hat and fanned himself impatiently, scratching his sweaty scalp. "Let's go and see what's going on."

The newsboys had obviously seen the "funny" happening at the alley entrance, and they gathered together to watch with great interest, smoking cheap cigarettes, coughing and spitting, and telling adult jokes - when Randolph and Roland came in, one of the children whistled.

"Little thug..."

Randolph muttered, fanned his hat and stepped forward, clearing his throat: "Can someone give me a local newspaper? I think it's called the Harbor News?"

The leading, sturdier boy stood up.

He stretched out his hands toward Randolph.

"We don't have to work this morning, sir." He even made an awkward salute, with a smile on his dirty face. "If you want to read the newspaper, you have to wait until the afternoon."

"Afternoon?" Randolph frowned. "I didn't know that a newspaper had to 'wait' - it seems that the newspaper boys in Brighton are more idle than those in London... You even have time to play with a cat."

cat?
The newsboy looked back and saw that the cat with its neck tied had already collapsed on the ground, with only its belly heaving with air.

"We have to have some fun, sir. Isn't this against the law?"

"Of course not," Randolph said indifferently, taking out a few coins from his pocket and flicking them to him: "Tell me, why are you so idle?"

The newsboy caught a few, dropped a few, and when he bent down to pick them up, he revealed a mouthful of black teeth.

This time the smile was more sincere.

"…The master has given me money, sir. You come from London? That's not rare. I guarantee that no newspaper seller would envy London - after a while, maybe we can go to school."

Send money?

What idiot would give money to people like you?
Randolph sneered in his heart.

The "charity" of the rich does not mean giving all the money to these miserable losers - if this really happens, it is not called charity, it is called.

"Let me hear what this kindness is called." Randolph asked with his hands folded.

Kindness?

Since the time when humans invented "money", no one should have seen this thing in the stomachs of those people.

"Harold Bekanov, sir. He's a good gentleman, gives money everywhere, and he's well known."

The leader of the newsboys said this, and like the other children, a look of pride and admiration appeared on his face: It’s not easy to make these little bastards admire you.

Harold Bekanov?
This name...

"Distribute money? How?" Randolph asked.

"It's just giving money." The boss held a cigarette between his fingers and gestured, "They said they invested in some construction to make people's lives better - we are also included in this, sir. It's what I just said, sooner or later we can go to school."

The other newsboys also started talking about it. They said, "I will pay for clothes," "I will have meat for every meal," "People will adopt those who lost their parents," "It's an easy job," and "I will earn ten times my current salary every day."

The more Randolph listened, the more he wanted to laugh.

He was almost certain that this was a liar.

Ninety-nine percent chance he's a liar.

The remaining 0.1% are the thugs who are ready to start a riot from Brighton - is it possible?

Brighton's Porte Harbour is not an important location.

The rich are mostly here for vacation. The locals? Their lives are worse than the cat with a rope around its neck in the distance.

"Where can I meet this Bekanov?"

The leader of the newsboys stared at Randolph, laughing in silence.

So the businessman took out a few more coins and threw them on the ground.

"...you have only to go to the biggest tavern. He often dines there with his business friends... Cavendish or Haldane..."

Randolph's eyes lit up.

"You mean Cavendish?"

"Oh, of course! Who doesn't know Cavendish? A tragic family with a past full of blood and tears. Because they chose the wrong man, their property was swallowed up by someone else, leading to the decline of the family... What a pity."

Roland: Hahahahahaha!
Randolph smiled wryly: "It just proves that the man is powerful enough."

The leader of the newsboys disagreed: "Not necessarily. My grandfather said that women are like a double-edged sword, dangerous from both sides - but as long as you completely subdue them, they will support you in whatever you want to do... I bet that man must have some ability, but maybe not outside the house..."

The precocious children burst into laughter.

Randolph's face darkened.

"Your grandfather taught you a lot."

"Of course. Ever since my grandfather got his hernia, he's been howling all day and telling me these things - I'll need them sooner or later."

Roland was almost dying of laughter.

"...Okay, get out of here." Randolph lost interest in talking and used his hat to drive away these dirty dogs.

Roland crossed the dirt road, walked to the sunken corner of the alley, squatted down, and broke the rope.

He picked up the dying cat.

"The Taylors are going to be famous."

Randolph slapped him on the back and turned to walk out: "Don't mention this name in front of Cavendish, Roland. I think I roughly guessed what happened..."

"It seems that I am no longer needed?"

"This is more interesting than killing them..." Randolph curled the corners of his cold lips, and before the sunlight came over, he put on a gentle smile again: "Just wait and see."

The two men left the alley.

Claudia Hayan Cavendish waited quietly at the entrance of the alley.

She showed no impatience about it, nor did she intend to ask what they talked about with those dirty dogs.

It was only when he looked at the cat in Roland's arms that a hint of dissatisfaction appeared in his eyes.

"Survival of the fittest, sir."

The way she looked at the cat was like an executioner looking at an unforgivable cultist, as if her own blood relatives had some unknown hatred with the cat.

When she said this, Roland immediately knew which sect's ritualist she was from.

"The Great Whirlpool".

(End of this chapter)