The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 542 Ch.541 The secret in the necklace

Roland held Harley's hand.

Staring at the girl with a pained face in her sleep.

On the quilt lay a heavily worn gold pound and a rusty iron necklace - sweat and day and night rubbing like a gambler made them rusty and shiny.

It was hard to tell whether the five-pound coin could still be spent.

It became a symbol, not a currency that represented a numerical value. A slogan written in charcoal on a brick wall, a tail that is innate and only wag when alone.

Now it is a miracle.

-

If the way the ‘wonder object’ was born is so absurd, the world and history may also meet such conditions.

The flames flickered.

"How do you know they aren't?"

Roland lowered his head and picked up the chain. This rough piece, the only thing her mother left to Halida and her siblings before they were sold to human traffickers, was so rusty that it was about to break.

Roland stroked through the chains of different thicknesses, and his eyes fell on the tail pendant, the low-quality, rusty little iron box.

He tapped lightly with his fingernail.

Solid?

He also thought that Halida's mother would leave something - words or a note to the Halida siblings.

solid…

wrong.

Roland squinted his eyes and turned the pendant.

Under the impact of the ringing flames, a long and narrow slit was particularly obvious.

He knocked twice more and pried the crack with his fingers.

Halida had never tried to destroy the metal box with a knife.

"It was left by her mother to her and her brother. You wouldn't think that such a small box could hold any property certificate——"

Click.

Roland silently opened the 'lid' side: when the iron lid that could not be called 'skin' was out of shape, it naturally revealed the secret that the girl had treasured for many years but had not yet discovered.

Inside was a piece of paper that had been folded several times.

It had been soaked in water and smoked, and the seemingly solid iron pendant was not tight.

The wrench misfired and circled Roland's head twice.

"I really hope it's not some property certificate or will...you already have too many..."

-

Too much of what?

"You know."

Roland glanced at the surprised Xander and carefully opened the piece of paper: opening it bit by bit to prevent tearing the thin paper that was almost rotten.

This is probably what Halida's mother left to her daughter and son.

Maybe that's what she thought.

It reads:

‘I love you forever, please don’t blame me or resent me. ’

'I try my best, but my life is still a mess... I'm sorry, Halida. ’

Maybe.

Roland thought.

A mother sells her daughter and son, what kind of words can she leave behind when parting?

There is only repentance and hope.

Just like Roland often wondered, what would his mother be thinking when she left him at the door of the workhouse?

It can't be that the strawberries on yesterday's cake were a little stale.

She should be desperate.

Otherwise, he should not have appeared in the workhouse, but in some unknown sewer.

Or someone’s porridge or vat.

Roland never complained about the lady he had never met before, and sincerely wished her to overcome the rough road and embark on a smooth road without pain and sorrow.

"If she just thinks the workhouse gives more money..."

-

I found that you always have to make others feel more miserable when they are miserable.

"Why?"

"Is this my talent?"

-

That's why I said, you and Xander will definitely get along.

"No need to talk."

"I don't have any sympathy for that woman with a twisted soul."

-

You don't like Enid either.

"Of course. The big O-bat and this little venomous snake are not very good... I think the Taylor fool is pretty good."

-

Beatrice? -

I didn't realize that you actually like her?

"Roland."

"I'm in your head."

-

so…?

"So I know exactly where you focus your eyes most of the time when you are with her - I like this kind of 'instinct' approach."

"You know, I like it when you unleash your 'instinct'."

"This is closer to a beast."

Roland suddenly didn't want to continue this topic.

-

I swear to the Father of All I didn't.

"Maybe the All-Father likes it."

-

Shut your mouth, blasphemer.

"Good cult leader."

Roland's face drooped, and he unfolded the letter folded and folded. He could already see the blue ink stains on the back of the paper, the blurred words that had been blurred and stained by pollution.

Not long.

But affectionate enough.

Maybe this is Halida's medicine.

A piece of paper that can help her untie her knot, a message from her mother.

"'Dear daughter, I'm sorry for you' - another boring, belated, meaningless apology..."

Flame and Roland stared at the letter that was about to be opened.

The paper was tacky and needed to be torn off very carefully in some places so as not to tear the underlying parts as well.

The text above is messy.

The font is ugly.

It's not like Roland thought, it's just lines of care and advice.

Instead, the entire paragraph was tilted, as if he had used all his strength to drip a hysterical ferocity into the ink, shake it up, and leave it on the paper.

This is the only paragraph above.

…

‘Make a mess of my life! ’

‘I really shouldn’t have given birth to him… let alone you! ! ’

‘Go die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die! ! ’

…

there is none left.

Just this paragraph.

Roland held the paper and turned it over.

‘Go to hell’ turned upside down, still clearly visible in the light.

He raised his eyes to look at the dark-skinned girl smiling in her sleep, then lowered his eyes to stare at the curses or vents written on the paper.

Halida.

This is truly nothing.

"Xander."

"Um?"

"Do me a favor." Roland pinched the bridge of his nose: "I would like a piece of letter paper, a cup of coffee, a pen and ink for writing...is that okay?"

Xander glanced at the old letter paper in Roland's hand, and seemed to be able to guess what was written on it without even looking - Xander knew too much about the annoying flies in human nature.

The gray-haired girl pushed back her hair, put her knees together, put her elbows on her elbows, and raised her chin.

A pair of big blue eyes blinked.

"You don't want to take in a monster, my master." She looked at Roland with eyes that were ignorant of the world, and asked in a playful voice, but the answer was already given in this question.

Roland asked: "What do you think we are?"

"Angel? Righteous thief? Gangster? Slaughterer?" The girl cheered: "What do you want me to be, Roland, that's what I am... my punisher, your leader - but you seem to have forgotten one thing."

She blinked.

"She needs to be recognized by all the members." Xander said: "The rules set by the leader, right? He may not have to abide by it...if he insists on doing so."

Roland thought for a while, folded the letter in his hand into strips, stood up, and stuffed it along the slit of the kerosene lamp.

"I didn't say 'member'."

Xander smiled: "What's the difference?"

Roland clicked his fingers and turned his face to listen: "Tell me about it."

Xander stood still for a moment, staring at the paper in the glass cover that was torn into ashes bit by bit by the flames, and a blue flame ignited in his flat lake eyes.

"How can you bark like a dog and walk like a human...?"

she said.

"Can you lead her around for half the night?"

The hands rubbing the pleats of the skirt were a little harder, with an innocent expression and a hoarse voice:

"I want to see it."