The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 610 Ch.609 Jocelyn Cavendish (Dong)

A marble fireplace with brass trim features a sculpture of a seated lion.

The faded purple drapery was woven with gold thread with some fable that was illegal and should not be seen on the market.

Two triangular wooden racks were nailed to the wall above the fireplace, with a standard six-pointed star cut out in reverse: the partitions were filled with many gold-painted goblets, thick candles, and dark ribbons with twisted characters written in blood.

Opposite the fireplace was a smooth, silver-framed arched mirror, a round table, brass candlesticks, candles, paper, pens, and a woman who was taking notes.

She was too thin to hold up her nightgown, but her cheeks were unusually rosy. Brown hair brushed past her ears, and a few strands fell between her lips, but were ignored by the woman who was concentrating on writing.

The dim atmosphere in the room was enough to strike fear into the heart of the timid.

When Bellos Taylor pushed the door open, a ray of sunshine slid through the crack in the door and pushed aside the shadows.

The rude gentleman's footsteps made the wooden planks creak, and the thin woman suddenly realized what was happening.

Her brown hair was pulled back into a bun, and her eyes of the same color gleamed in the darkness.

Bellos walked forward, lifted the thin velvet blanket on the back of the chair, and draped it over her.

He lowered his head and sniffed.

"I told you, Joey. At least don't miss lunch and dinner."

The slender woman leaned back, stretching her neck as far as possible, feeling the tingling and breathing on her skin.

“…I ate it.”

"Teresa told me you didn't eat."

Jocelyn Cavendish blinked. "She lied."

"Who knows? One of you must have lied." Bellos held his wife in his arms, rubbing his chin while looking at the leather scroll spread out on the table.

Some wet characters appeared in my eyes.

Gradually.

They dance slowly with the candlelight...

Snapped.

Jocelyn folded the parchment.

"I also said, don't read what I wrote." Married women have more mature eyes than young girls. She knows how to swing her arms and curl her toes. They have the ability to produce greater effects with less effort.

But when she stroked Belos's rough face, kissed his forehead and recited some words he could not understand, Belos felt more like her.

"I'm increasingly finding your plan stupid."

Bellos blew his nose, propped up the back of the chair with his hands, and stared quietly at the woman curled up in his arms, looking at her with the same gentle eyes.

"A stupid plan, the ending is the same--"

Jocelyn pressed her index finger to her husband's lips.

"We agreed, Baker. You have to help me..."

Bellos Taylor felt like there was a torch burning with thunder in his chest, hot and rumbling.

He stood up straight and looked down at his wife like a lion sitting on the fireplace.

"Haven't I helped you enough?"

"I gave you this kind of life, freeing you from the troubles of Cavendish. I gave you two children, and a carefree environment in which to study witchcraft freely...Joey, you can't trample on my respect for you like this."

Jocelyn pursed her lips, her small and slender limbs slumped a little.

“…We agreed on this.”

"I regret it now." The man's eyes were burning with emotions hotter than fire: "This is totally illogical!"

"The power of the ritualist does not conform to the logic of mortals, Baker." Jocelyn looked at the man who had become like a child in front of her and smiled faintly: "We are the primitive people--"

"Primitive people! Primitive people! You Jews always know how to make up lies!"

Bellows shook his wrists off his arms, yanked his collar roughly, and paced around the room like an angry brown bear.

a long time.

With a droopy face, he sat quietly in the recliner by the fireplace—only half of his buttocks were sitting. "Beck..."

Bellows rubbed his face and softened his voice: "We are not young anymore, Joey. We have Randolph, Beatrice, a complete family, and a business that is about to grow. Do you have to take the risk yourself and go to... history?"

Jocelyn gradually stopped smiling and answered in a calm tone, just like her husband:

"No ritualist can currently solve Beatrice's problem."

"Then let her be stupid!" Bellos said indifferently, "Even if she stays at home all her life, I can make her live better than the king... Jocelyn Cavendish, do you have to use Beatrice to cover up your ambitions?"

"That's not ambition!" Jocelyn was also angry: "We are the original people! Creatures created by the one and only God... We should find our own God! Build our own country! Take back what we lost!"

Find your own God.

Build your own country.

Take back what was lost.

Three sentences, and Bellos didn't understand any of them.

"What did you lose?" He pinched his nose and asked depressedly: "I don't know why you people with strange blood have such similar ideas-"

"They took away what was rightfully ours!" Jocelyn was uncompromising: "They took away the glory of my Lord! With one lie after another!"

"Is that important?" Bellos couldn't understand. "Is it worth giving up everything you have now?"

Jocelyn was silent.

She stood up, walked around the chair, put her arms around her husband, and looked at him carefully.

He has begun to age.

The teeth of time have left grooves on his face, his flesh and blood are withering, and the fire of his soul is not as strong as it used to be. He will live out his mortal life like an ordinary person.

For the ritualists, it is tragic.

And Bellows Taylor seemed to see something from his wife's pitiful look.

"Immortality is a curse, Joey. We don't have to expect the same things that mortals expect... Do you have to--"

"Curse?" Jocelyn smiled. "I often hear dogs and cats talking to each other. They say that a decade of life is rich enough. Do we have to expect to live for fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, or even a hundred years? That is a curse for cats and dogs... They will be lonely, crazy, and helpless. No one can stand such a long life..."

"Bellos, do you think they are funny?"

Bellos was silent.

"Longevity is a blessing. A creature that can only live for eighty years actually says longevity is a curse... This reminds me of those sailors at the port."

Yes.

Those sailors often said.

What’s the good of having money? Maybe he’s not as happy as us.

Obviously.

They never had money.

"Listen to me, Baker," Belos felt that his wife was like a bird shaking its feathers, flying into the air, and would never return to his arms again: "After the ceremony is completed, the secret meeting will open the passage. I will be back to you in just a blink of an eye..."

"By the time."

"I will bring you a method to become a ritualist, a ritual to cure Beatrice, and good news that will allow us to settle down completely..."

A face much younger than Belos looked at him quietly.

"You will touch the mystery with me, prolong your life, and stay with each other for a long time..."

"Beatrice will go to school, grow up, get married, and have lots of kids like any other girl..."

"Just one chance."

"my sweetheart."

"Do you believe me?"

(End of this chapter)