The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 83 Kate and Marissa 83
A mouthful of thick phlegm was spat into the sewage.

The feces and urine that overflowed from the wooden basin were thrown into the sewage.

The water used for washing the body was mixed with white mud and thrown into the dirty water.

Raindrops as fine as needles mixed in the dirty water, forming an indistinguishable black mirror that reflects light at night.

They were crossed over by a pair of small leather boots.

"I am back."

The girl pushed the door open and shook off her hood, patting her shoulders and knees. Rainwater splashed on the mud, and she stamped her feet.

"Mother?"

Kate yelled twice in dissatisfaction.

Slowly, there was movement in the room.

There was a faint red light like an oven in a certain room.

She rubbed the soles of her shoes in the mud and went into the house, carrying the two pounds of brown bread she had just bought.

On the wooden table were leftovers from the previous two days: half a plate of unnamed weeds, blanched in water, a few moldy round mushrooms, a small jar of sticky black grease, a fork with several broken teeth - and some winged insects flying around.

Kate Pasetti put the bread on the table and blew the rotten smell that filled her nostrils.

Like her mother, she has thick long hair, beautiful eyebrows, a pointed nose, and legs as long as her arms.

My mother was leaning against the bed frame, and a pile of matchboxes was piled on the linen cloth that was covered with marks from rat bites.

By candlelight, the middle-aged woman concentrated on gluing the thick paper in her hands: she looked up at her daughter, then lowered her head and continued with her work.

"There you go again," she said.

This ruined cave was even colder than the outside. In the dim light, the mother's outline was blurry and difficult to distinguish.

Kate Pasetti hummed, lowered her head, pushed aside the boxes, and sat half of her butt on the edge of the bed.

I felt uneasy.

"I bought you some bread."

The words that seemed to be asking for credit did not get a corresponding response.

My mother grunted, turned the paper box over with her skillful hands, dipped a wooden stick in the paste and smeared it on the open corner, then pinched it with her hand.

Only then did she take the time to look up at her daughter.

Look at this rose that grew in male and female urine, feces, and all kinds of sewage.

The more she looked at her daughter's uneasy eyes, the less she knew what to say.

Sighed deeply.

"That's not the life we're meant to live, Kate."

The girl pursed her lips stubbornly and said nothing.

"You are old enough to get married. I have asked around. The man in the blacksmith shop next door has a mother who works as a servant for a wealthy family and a father who is a cargo carrier. His family has their own rented house. When you marry him, you will at least be able to have two meals a day."

The rain outside the window is getting heavier.

The slurry dripped through the cracks in the roof and fell into the house.

"I saved some money for you... ahem..."

The more the mother spoke, the colder her daughter's body became.

It was like the winter wind coming in through the broken window and into her heart.

"I want to dance." Kate muttered through gritted teeth.

This time, it was the mother's turn to remain silent.

"Marisa," Kate clutched the rough linen, raised her head and looked at her mother, "I have to go. I have to go."

"Look at you, what have you learned from those people?" Marissa couldn't stop coughing. She picked up the cardboard box on her legs, carefully put it aside, sat up and leaned against the wall. "How much will it cost? Is that the life we ​​can imagine? I finally asked someone to let you enter the factory..."

Kate lifted her mother's quilt and turned to face her: "But I don't want to go!"

"You don't want this or that, honey, you've made a mess of your life..."

"I think you are blaming me for making a mess of your life..." Kate retorted in a low voice.

The mother and daughter have had many arguments about this issue recently.

Kate doesn't want to end up like her mother, with a life ruined by boxes, gossip and bad people. She has a chance.

She was prettier than her mother, softer than her, and smarter than her.

That's not how she lives.

The carpet in the opera house was rich and soft; she would rather die of hunger than chew the goose-down drapes and gnaw the satin upholstery of the high-backed chairs.

"I am... ahem... I can't control you... ahem..."

As a mother, Marissa could not convince her grown-up daughter. She gathered the box, and with the help of her hands, she pulled out a small cloth bag from the crooked lowboard cabinet.

There was a clanking sound inside.

She spread it open with two fingers, took a peek inside, and reluctantly handed it to her daughter.

"…That's all we have. If you don't insist on taking the carriage, it will last for another two months…"

Kate took the coin bag and lowered her eyes: "...Mom."

She didn't ride in a carriage all day, but first walked to the dance studio, not far from Teacher Paret's house, called a carriage, and asked the driver to pretend to take her a few steps:

To other students, it looked like she came by carriage.

"If I don't act like this, who would want to be my friend?!"

The more she talked, the more aggrieved she felt.

Is she doing this for the sake of enjoyment?
She walked a long way every day, almost across the entire town.

It was just a short ride.

How could my mother say that to me?
"Okay, okay..." Marissa touched her daughter's long, silky, soft hair. "...Do you want me to ask the kid to buy you two more packs of hair cream..."

Kate shook her head in slight disgust.

"Teacher Paret said that low-quality hair cream will damage hair. I have to use a better one..."

Seeing that she had finally convinced her mother, the daughter began to chatter like a little bird, holding her mother's hand and telling her about what she had seen and heard in class.

Beautiful portrait.

A bright, incense-scented music room.

Soft velvet carpets and a lacquered piano that looks like a mirror.

Beautiful, finely painted bird cages and lush, climbing vines—even the gardener was so polite.

She would rather marry Mr. Paret's gardener than even look at the dirty blacksmith's son.

Don't even look at it!

The mother stared at her daughter in the candlelight, her face dancing with joy. Decades of experience and instinct made her ask a question:
"Can you really join the chorus?"

Boom.

These words were like the sudden thunder outside the window, waking up many people from their dreams.

Including Kate Pasetti.

She is not at the bottom among them, but she is not outstanding either.

Every year, those who are recommended to join the troupe either bypass teacher Paret directly and start directly from their family, father or some other relationship; or, like her, they come from ordinary families. Only the selected and talented children can be selected...

There are only one or two places available each year.

Kate Pasetti is far from great.

The mother seemed to have noticed something as well and began to sigh again.

She did not take back the bag of coins, but pulled out a coin from the cabinet, and with the help of the short candlelight, she picked up a wooden stick and began to fiddle with the cardboard box.

A feeling of shame and unwillingness surged into Kate Pasetti's heart.

Meanwhile, some wishes...

Or desires are also multiplying wildly in the heart.

Kate clutched the sweat-soaked cloth bag tightly and left the room.

Outside the window, a sleeping giant was snoring and lightning was flashing.

Lighting up a tearful face.

(End of this chapter)