The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 946 Ch.945 Never Understood
It was different from what surprised Roland.

Kingsley was surprised that they had steak to eat - and so far, all he had seen and heard was 'harsh treatment'... If the manager here treated the poor people under his management like this, how did the children get steak?
Roland is different.

He was just surprised that the trustees here were much more generous than those in Fork County.

In Fork County, the only thing a boy or girl who is wanted has is cheap liquor running down their skin - and that's enough to show off.

"so…"

Kingsley was about to say something when he suddenly turned to Roland, his expression becoming very grim.

He realized it.

Can…

Damn it.

The government allocated funds to build many workhouses. Was it just to provide free labor and skills to these people who drink and have fun?
Repair the wheel?
For half a piece of beef, they rushed to those people's houses...

A strong urge to vomit rose up in the contraction of my stomach.

Kingsley smelled the acid mist from his own breath.

In the acid mist, I saw a pair of eyes before me that were full of misfortune, cunning, greed and pride.

Dozens of…

Even hundreds of children.

How long did it take the administrators to change these children?
Kingsley didn't understand.

The man who had always been proud of being a "citizen of the empire" and who took it for granted that he had contributed to the huge warship that stood out in the storm, today for the first time questioned where every tax he paid went...

A forty-minute journey.

I spent half a year in London, but it seemed like another world.

"I grew up in this kind of environment, Kingsley," Roland touched the head of the girl who was holding onto his thigh tightly, and said softly, "'If they really love their children and have a conscience, they will not let their babies out of their sight - even for half a second'... Now, do you still insist?"

Kingsley said nothing.

"I don't think your ideal is boring, great detective. Carpenters, policemen, killers, waiters or emperors, people always have all kinds of ideas..."

"What qualities do you think are necessary for a detective?"

Kingsley moved his lips: "Wisdom."

"It's insight." Roland pinched the girl's cheek. When the seven-year-old girl's chin was lifted, her body gave the order before her brain - to open her mouth.

"You have to deal with people all day long, but you rarely see people."

Kingsley wanted to retort that he had met quite a few people.

All kinds of people, all walks of life.

But now, I can't say this with confidence.

Especially when he saw the girl's movements.

An emotion mixed with pity and anger almost drained the heat from my heart.

He had no place to vent his anger, so he could only direct it at Roland.

"You were born in a workhouse, Collins. You went to London and started a brilliant life - but you never paid any attention to your fellow men who were also suffering in the workhouse..."

"Because I hate this world more than you do, Kingsley."

W-what do you mean?
Kingsley didn't understand, what kind of 'answer' was this?
He watched Roland flick the girl's teeth with his fingers, causing her to shrink her neck in pain, covering her mouth with a look of doubt on her face.

"nothing."

Roland touched his inner pocket and produced a small blade. He bent down and quietly put it into the girl's hand: "Before you die, this blade can punish the person you want to punish."

after that.

The visit to the workhouse was not a pleasant one.

When Kingsley calmed down the fire of incompetence in his heart, he began to regret why he said those cruel and cold words to Roland - he was here because Roland wanted to help him, to help him see the true side of the world... or the side that he was missing.

He really shouldn't have gotten mad at his friend.

How could Roland be that kind of person?

"…In fact, you have privately funded a lot of poorhouses, right?" Before leaving, the detective said something incoherent with a straight face and stuttering.

Roland knew what he wanted to say.

"I'm not mad at you. Kingsley, you're as naive as Beatrice in a way."

Roland paused.

"besides."

He said.

"You are absolutely right in saying that I have never funded any workhouse, or rescued anybody from it."

Kingsley frowned.

He thought that Roland should be able to "empathize" with his past.

This makes sense and is reasonable.

"You don't really think," Roland turned around and smiled strangely, "compared to the evil of the managers, the people in the poorhouse should be called 'good', right? Great Detective?"

He waved his hand and asked Kingsley to look out the window in the direction of his finger:
On the dirt field under the scorching sun.

The ding-dong-dong sound continued.

Kingsley believed that these wax figures in the scorching sun symbolized pure and flawless goodness and were the oppressed party, but from this perspective, he suddenly recalled the group of 'mature children' in the restaurant - how many managers and how many children were there here?

"No. Regardless of good or evil, Roland, they shouldn't be treated like this. This is the fault of the government and the queen, as well as these managers. In terms of management, allocation and destination of funds, we obviously need to be better—"

Mr. Golden Eyes, who was standing behind the man, laughed cheerfully.

"What are you thinking about, my great detective."

Roland found the surprise he wanted on that long-frozen face, and became as happy as a child who had lit a cat's tail.

"Do they look like a group of melting wax figures?"

Kingsley was silent.

indeed.

Today he had an eye-opener.

In addition to the deeper impact of the workhouse, he finally understood one thing:

He didn't know Roland Collins well enough.

…………

……

That's the case with the workhouse.

Orphanages were not much better.

Interestingly, Kingsley had read an article about Lady Amelia in the newspaper, praising her for being "generous", "elegant" and "full of extraordinary compassion" - the author even gave a detailed description of the decoration of the orphanage, which was far from other ordinary orphanages.

Even the toilet bowls in that orphanage were inlaid with gold.

It is said.

Lady Amelia was born into a noble family (not confirmed), and she lived alone in the countryside after her husband and son died of illness. Because her father, her father's father, and several generations before her (not confirmed) were prominent, they left a lot of inheritance, so that she was still rich without a husband and children.

Just lonely.

later.

Because of an accident (said to be God's grace) - listening to the teachings of the Father of All Things in a dream, she finally found her true path.

Half a year ago, she sold her property and came to London from the countryside to open a sanctuary specifically to relieve the worries of girls and provide shelter for those poor people who never grow up.

Her philanthropic deeds have earned her widespread praise from critics.

Especially among women.

It is worth noting that most of the gentlemen and ladies, both men and women, who could afford to read, understand, and often write to newspapers, held the same view as Kingsley:
A truly moral mother would not give her child to an orphanage.

They praise the owner of the orphanage, but they also despise the mothers of the orphans in the orphanage.

(End of this chapter)