The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 693 Ch.692 The Knight's Princess

It turns out that the ladies took a bath.

In addition to the stench of decay, Roland did sense the damp air and a stinging odor in his nose of dry powder for washing the body—a certain brand that James Jones had given him to use when he was in the workhouse, which gave off an odor when it came in contact with water.

"So, something is 'rotten' in this house?"

"Roland."

Rose warned the man in a bad tone not to continue his curiosity.

"Okay, I'm just asking."

They had passed several women, but apart from some curious glances, no one stopped to ask.

There were people aged seven or eight, fifteen or sixteen, with a wide age range - some of the girls, Roland even suspected, were not here to study: perhaps their parents were too busy with work to have time, and simply threw their children into this 'free' place.

The food and drink were not very good, but at least they could fill my stomach. If I could learn to write a few more words, wouldn't I earn more than the owner of the golden smoke?

"That child is still holding the baby, Rose. She could not be ten yet."

"Women always have babies," Snitch rolled her eyes at Roland and spoke directly to him. She just couldn't get used to seeing him today. First it was that Droz Fonseca, and then it was Wildcat. "She's probably nine or ten years old. Anyway, no older."

The child didn't reach her chest.

"I can't figure out what our queen is going to do."

"Obviously, for reputation. She wouldn't train a few private tutors for herself." Roland gently stroked the wall with his fingertips and scratched it a few times with his nails. Not only was the wall soft, but even a slight scratch would reveal the broken bricks inside.

Further on.

As we approached the washroom, the wall that had been soaked by the rain had already peeled off completely, revealing the precarious skeleton inside - it couldn't really be called a 'wall', it could only be said to be a small sheepfold built by a group of blind children for play.

It's not solid and might collapse any day.

"I don't see what these things have to do with fame."

Rose rolled her eyes.

It wasn't that she sympathized with the children here, but she had a different understanding of the bigwigs in this country - she should have known it since Anne's death.

It is 'school' after all.

For a female thief who has been living on the streets since childhood, this place is undoubtedly more "sacred" than Buckingham Palace.

Far beyond the church.

But what Rose saw along the way made her very disappointed.

"I thought there would be marble floors and paintings on the walls painted by several artists. Portraits of famous people would be hung everywhere, and from time to time you would see men and women reciting poems and hear the sound of piano or violin -"

"Maybe, but not here."

Roland believed that Her Majesty the Queen did not intend for the school that bore her title to be like this - obviously, the people who were actually responsible for building and managing it did not care.

Anyway, don’t use their names.

As long as it makes sense, I'm afraid it's fine.

“Guess how much it cost?”

"About ten thousand pounds?"

"I guess the people who build this place will get 10,000 or 20,000, but it won't take that much to build it." Over time, Rose gradually learned to think in a 'Shelley-style' way. Like Randolph, she would first judge the value of anything she encountered.

As she was talking, she suddenly moved her ears.

"Shhh."

Not far from the bathroom, in an even quieter, smaller room, she heard a loud commotion.

That was another bathroom built specifically for certain young ladies - smaller and more exquisite, but only for girls of certain status to use.

Just like the Queen can only use Mr. Albert.

They were allowed in, while those who were not allowed could only go to the larger room with a stronger smell and shared by dozens of people - in fact, there was no standard. Maybe there was one at the beginning, but if the daughter of an egg seller really used it secretly, no one would know.

Obviously, the ladies still have rules and are self-aware.

——In this regard, a few men do better than women.

You always keep knocking on the door, even if it is a gorgeous, thick door inlaid with jewels and diamonds.

You never know when it will open just for you - provided you don't care how many people have come and gone through this door.

If you stand back from the door, you will indeed be praised, and people will say, "This is the most self-aware gentleman I have ever met," "A proper gentleman":
But that also cuts off your chance to appreciate the scenery behind the door.

"…like a noble lady, aren't you, dear?"

All three heard it. Halida quietly turned her head to look at Roland, and also saw the scattered girls passing by - they looked at them curiously at first, but when they found that the three of them were going to the smaller bathroom, they immediately lowered their heads as if frightened and quickened their pace to leave.

"…gentlemen."

Halida asked in a low voice.

soon.

As we got closer, the conversation became clearer.

Through the oblique angle and the oil lamp hanging in the bathroom, they could see clearly what was happening inside:

Four or five seemingly young girls were surrounding a girl holding a wooden barrel.

The wooden barrel was filled with socks and some clothes only for ladies.

Obviously a lot bigger.

That's not hers.

“…I already know that.”

The girl in the middle had long brown hair that fell past her waist.

"I washed it clean..."

she says.

"Miss Meili."

The leader of this group of girls was called 'Merry'. She wore a nightgown that was far more expensive than the cheap ant nest nightgown, and was more luxurious than the bees Roland had seen along the way - a diamond-shaped sapphire hung on her ear, and shining accessories were worn on her wrists and fingers.

The shoes were not visible, and the hem of the skirt, which had been repeatedly pleated, was embroidered with sky blue thread.

Just like a bison uses its horns to prove to carnivores that it is not to be trifled with, she also uses the "horns" outside her skin to prove that she is different from others.

Also more aggressive.

“But it’s not clean at all.”

The young girl folded her arms and swept the wooden basin in the girl's hand from above.

Those were the socks and underpants of their gang.

"You're going to bed now? So, me and my friends will have no socks to wear tomorrow, right? Is that how you treat your friends?"

Rose turned her head slightly and glanced at Roland.

The latter just remained silent.

Because she often went to Roland to discuss business (so she thought), Rose could recognize almost everyone he had come into contact with in life.

This girl's name is...

what do you say that is?

“…You showed me around from a distance, didn’t you?”

Rose lowered her voice.

"Her name is Alice," Roland replied.

Mr. Cordoni's daughter.

The little diplomat from the shoemaker's family.

she…

Being thrown here?
——The reason why I use the word "throw" is because she is far from the age to study. At least now, it is not the right age, nor the right school.

"…I'll wash it quickly, Miss Meili, I have strength in my hands."

"Oh, of course. But we didn't come to you today to do the laundry - I thought, since you are our friend, we can't always let you do this kind of work." The girl in the lead nodded her forehead pretentiously, and the gems hanging from her earlobes swayed.

"Yes, a test."

"It's just a test."

"Now, you passed."

She smiled, thinking it was in keeping with the poor's superficial understanding of the rich, and leaned slightly towards her.

“…You have to admit that I helped you before, right?”

Alice murmured twice in response and hugged the barrel tighter in her arms.

(End of this chapter)