The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1014, Chapter 1013: The Rat

Roland is very fast.

He returned in the time it takes to smoke a cigar, where Theresa was waiting at the door with Brontë, who had not been successfully put to sleep—besides him, two serious-looking, somewhat intimidating black-clad priests also got off the carriage.

Fernandez de Winson and the Blade.

"where."

The seasoned executive paid no heed to Theresa's 'etiquette,' and without waiting for an invitation, strode into the living room—wearing boots stained with who-knows-how-many human excrement—and stepped in amidst the angry glares of the maids.

Roland asked quietly about the blade that had fallen behind.

"Is he in a bad mood?"

The brown-haired woman nodded: "No good."

"Why? The court hasn't had much work lately, at least not the executor who remained in London. He..."

"I suppose you interrupted someone's date..." Blade said, arms crossed, walking away while taunting, his upturned eyes constantly scanning the bear-man's retreating figure. "You caught me red-handed preparing flowers in the office while I was looking for the carriage..."

Roland sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Why now? Why does he have to do this?"

"Then you don't understand romance, little boy. The more dangerous the situation, the more thrilling it is. If you want a woman to be so captivated that she won't even blink, besides having a strong backbone, you also need the power of the environment..."

Roland hesitated for a moment: "We shouldn't be talking about a ceremony... right?"

The blade laughed so hard it trembled like a flower.

This action also diverted the maids' hatred: they shifted their gaze from Fernandez to the blade—especially when they discovered that this woman, who was about thirty years old and old enough to be a grandmother, had actually laid a hand on Mr. Collins.

She actually dared to cling to his arm, relentlessly like a traveler who had accidentally fallen but managed to grab onto a rock face, wishing her fingers were an extension of his body…

She should be ashamed of her vulgar laughter and absurd behavior.

No.

The blade, of course, won't.

Not only did she not, she softened and heated up like metal that had been too close to a furnace, as if deliberately breaking something open to show someone—

'She's nowhere near as good as Miss.'

Every maid thought so.

"Looks like you haven't touched any of them..." A sweep of the blade revealed the relationship between these women and Roland, and he chuckled, teasingly whispering, "Roland Collins, are you going to keep your body and soul forever loyal to Enid Juilliard?"

This was a tricky question, and with just a glance, the blade could see the traces that had quickly disappeared from Roland's face.

"Oh...it seems I shouldn't call you a boy anymore, should I?"

"You two can find somewhere else to express your love!" Fernandez stormed out of the room, carrying a large bag. He was annoyed enough about missing his date with Gilles; what were these two doing?
The blade is not afraid of him.

"Let's talk here. We'll go back together after you're done..."

Fernandez glared at her resentfully, then stomped off into another room with his bag—Teresa was quite surprised that this woman was the 'leader' of the three.

About an hour.

The guest room fell into a deathly silence.

Fernandez squatted in front of a hole about half an arm's length long, with Randolph and Theresa behind him, their faces grim. The hole was made by Fernandez with a chisel, and the red bricks inside the wall, which should have been solid and tight, were as soft as cake flour, crumbling away with the slightest scrape.

Passing through this thin barrier, what you see now is an irregular, deep 'pipeline' that may be interconnected, gnawed out by some creature with its teeth.

In addition to what Beatrice said…

"If possible, I would like to meet your sister."

“…I’m sorry, Mr. Devonson. I think Roland has made himself clear enough,” Randolph said, not wanting Betty to face this man who was bigger than a bear—even if he was there to help. “I’ve already sent someone to buy the powder.”

Fernandez pinched a pinch of brick dust and rubbed it between his fingertips. After thinking for a moment, he shook his head.

He didn't think ordinary medicine powder was useful.

Because ordinary rats wouldn't dig such honeycomb-like tunnels in the walls. "We first need to figure out one thing, Roland," Fernandez glanced at the blade, "was this a 'chance' occurrence, or…?"

still.

Are all the houses in London in this state?

If it's the former, that's fine; who knows who this businessman offended... But if it's the worst-case scenario, then everyone's peaceful days are probably over.

“I have no time to waste, Blade, Roland, tell them what to do next. I need to get back to the Inquisition to inform Lady Enid—you’d better hurry.”

After Fernandez finished speaking, he rudely snatched the tools from the maid's hand, threw them into his leather bag, and stormed out.

"...Excuse me? Madam? I don't understand, is there something wrong with the Taylors' hospitality?" Randolph frowned. "'Next'—? What does 'next' mean?"

The blade kicked the hole Fernandez had chiseled a few times with the pointed shoe.

"What I mean next is, Mr. Taylor, you'll have to move temporarily."

“What? Moving?” Theresa exclaimed in disbelief. “Where to? Just because of some rats? This is the Taylor mansion! Bellos Taylor! Randolph Taylor! The Taylor family’s—”

Ordinary people do not understand what these rats that can burrow into walls mean, let alone how destructive the high-ring ritualists can be.

“Considering your friendship with Roland, the Inquisition is willing to offer temporary shelter to you and your family… Of course, you can refuse.” Blade had been brought here by Roland; she had no connection with these people. “I'll only wait half an hour, or you can find a time when you're free and have Roland lead you there…”

If you are still alive by then.

After finishing his sentence, Daoren casually left the guest room.

She wandered around the living room, and just when Teresa thought she was going to do the same thing, the obnoxious black-clad woman stopped listlessly in front of the liquor cabinet, opened the glass door, picked out a bottle of champagne, and took out a glass to blew on it.

Theresa could no longer contain herself: "Every inch of the Taylor house is spotless."

The woman flicked the bottle neck away, slowly poured half of it, turned around, leaned back, and took a sip.

"Including that rat hole?"

Theresa: ...

"Twenty-eight minutes left."

Theresa's eyes widened: "By Your Excellency! How could you—"

“Bronte, go and wake Beatrice. Theresa, tell all the servants I’m only giving them ten minutes—don’t bring anything.” Randolph abruptly interrupted Theresa’s grumbling.

He knew exactly what 'the protection of the court' meant.

Although limited by his perspective, he couldn't understand the reason for Fernandez's seriousness...

But he's a businessman.

Sometimes, you have to be one step ahead of disaster—this sense of smell doesn't come from innate talent or a brilliant mind: there are always smart people in the world, if you happen to have a good eye.

“Sir?” Theresa was still a little hesitant.

Just because of a mouse hole...?
Perhaps three? Six or seven? Now they should be looking for rat catchers, instead of fleeing to the courthouse like cowards—Teresa, of course, didn't care; she was thinking of Randolph.

How will he face his business associates and guests at banquets in the future?
'Ah, he's the one who ran away in terror from a mouse... what was it again?'

No one will say it openly, but who knows how they'll laugh at you behind your back?

Theresa would not allow such a thing to happen.

“Right now, Theresa.”

Randolph stared at the silent Roland for a moment, then quietly looked away and gazed at the extremely anxious old maid.

His indifferent expression was strikingly similar to that of a younger 'Taylor' from decades ago.

Theresa lowered her eyelashes and stopped uttering any more objections.

"You will see them here in ten minutes."

She bowed to the blade and Roland, then curtsied to Randolph, took a few steps back, and turned to go upstairs.

(End of this chapter)