The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1016 Ch.1015 Beatrice's Friend
Taylor's darling genuinely liked this 'lady'—she said she was supposed to go to her friend's mirror, but the chosen spot went astray: although she later reconnected with her friend, Taylor's daughter also became a part of their interactions.

Beatrice firmly believed this statement.

She was just a silly girl, but the coffin didn't mind at all.

'You're not stupid, Betty. In my eyes, you possess talents that many lack, the noblest bloodline, unparalleled beauty, and a destined bright future—'

Beatrice was overjoyed.

Although she didn't believe it was true...

But who doesn't like to be praised?

"I still want to go on a date with you when we get somewhere else."

The voice in the mirror was full of laughter: "'Dating' shouldn't be with me... Silly girl, don't you know how to pester men, making them chase after you like dogs that have smelled your scent but can't even lick it properly..."

Beatrice's expression at that moment was just like Rose's when she first heard that there could be so many different ways to calculate numbers—she had no idea what the coffin was talking about.

"Maybe I'm the stupid one, Betty."

The woman sighed.

"A flawless blank sheet of paper is attractive enough on its own..."

Beatrice didn't understand, and only bit her thumb, reluctant to part with the coffin: "Will we meet again?"

“We’ve never met before—but, silly girl, we will meet after this disaster is over…would you like that?”

"Of course! Coffin! You are my benefactor! My brother said we should be good to our benefactors!"

“That’s not what your brother meant,” the coffin-wielding man’s laughter carried a hint of sarcasm, but just like their previous conversation, Beatrice couldn’t detect it. “I only like you, I think you’re good, silly girl. What is your brother? Just a businessman with no talent whatsoever… a mortal… a useless man controlled by his inferior blood…”

As she spoke, she suddenly became a little agitated.

The sound stopped suddenly.

"coffin?"

Ripples spread across the mirror's surface.

"Do you love him?"

she asked suddenly.

"Who?" Beatrice blinked.

"Roland Collins".

The girl covered her face shyly: "...Roland is fine."

Laughter came from the mirror.

"'Everything's fine,' I'm afraid it's more than just 'everything'... You still don't understand what 'love' is, do you?"

"I understand everything!"

"Really? You kissed him?"

"…not yet."

Has he kissed you?

"Of course! He 'loves' me!"

Where should we kiss?

Beatrice pointed to her forehead.

The laughter became even more indulgent.

“Silly child, that’s not ‘love,’ it’s just tenderness and pity—you want him to love you like your brother loved Brontë or like she loved your brother…you long for that day, don’t you?”

These words struck a chord with Beatrice.

Whenever Roland picked her up and placed her on his lap, whenever he brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead or cheek, making her laugh uncontrollably, Beatrice could vaguely sense the longing and anticipation within her…

Each time, and more and more often.

She began to want more, further contact.

This requires neither wisdom nor good health.

Just as a man knows exactly where to look when a woman takes off her shoes and puts her feet on a table—it's a human instinct.

Beatrice is not young; in fact, if she were healthy, she should have been inviting people to her garden long ago.

Now, she hasn't even received a real kiss.

Beatrice got a little angry at what he said: "He will! Roland will!"

“Of course I want you to be happy, silly girl. But your Mr. Roland Collins clearly hasn’t thought that way—the difference between people is often greater than the difference between a man and a stray dog… Do you think he’s the best, or mediocre, or even the worst?” “Roland is the best, of course!”

“Excellent. Well then, you also need to be good enough... so that he can see you, look forward to you, think about you, and come to visit you from time to time—your brother doesn’t have that ability.”

Under the coffin's gentle guidance, Beatrice used her imagination to paint a picture of her happy life with Roland in her mind...

Can he be like his brother and Xiaxia?
Like my brother?
The thought of Roland sleeping on her chest made Beatrice's face flush—she felt like she was burning up, her heart was pounding, and her ears were throbbing uncomfortably.

"Good boy."

"Coffin laughed."

"I'll help you. We're friends...and our relationship will become even closer..."

“More…closer?” Beatrice asked, puzzled.

"of course."

The voice in the mirror answered.

Before she could say anything more, the cheerful girl ran to her jewelry box and took out a crystal bracelet, a jade ring, and a large gold earring that Randolph had given her—forgive the gentleman's taste, Brontë had said many times in private that a brother should not buy such 'mature' jewelry for his sister.

At least she doesn't need such vulgar things to easily show her charm.

Beatrice grabbed a handful, the rest indistinguishable, and skipped back to the mirror with them.

I'm in a dilemma.

How is she going to deliver these things to the person on the other side of the mirror?
"Friends... better friends."

Beatrice whispered.

This made the woman opposite her smile even more gently.

"Silly girl."

she says.

"Although I don't need these things, I'd like to accept your gift—when we meet, you can bring them and give them to me in person... okay?"

Beatrice laughed: "Okay."

she says.

When can I see you?

She asked.

She said she didn't know either. If Beatrice was talented enough, they would probably meet in the blink of an eye; if she was less talented, they would have to wait half a year; and if they waited any longer, it would be a year later.

Beatrice's blue eyes were misty.

She sighed and grumbled in dissatisfaction, worried that the mercury and beetles were running out.

“Once we get to the courtroom, I’m afraid you won’t be able to speak to me anymore,” Coffin said, adding that the courtroom was a safe place. Safe, but it also meant that someone like her wouldn’t be able to speak freely with Beatrice anymore—but she assured her that as long as Beatrice practiced her method, soon, once she moved back with her family, she would be close to seeing her again, and to the day Roland would kiss her.

"Do you believe me, Betty?"

Beatrice blinked her purplish-blue sapphire, not understanding what 'Do you believe me?' meant—was there another answer?
"Look at you, there are hardly any people with your talent in all of London..."

“Talent?” Beatrice still didn’t understand.

“Listen to me, silly girl. When you get to the courtroom, don’t mention me to anyone there—no, of course I know you’ve kept your promise to us… Good child, you need a beetle, well water kissed by the full moon… and the tongue of a man who lives by lies…”

These things are too difficult for a girl with 'low intelligence'.

It's not that Beatrice can't remember.

Even if she remembered them, she wouldn't be able to obtain them without arousing suspicion—the tongue of a person who makes a living by lying?
The politicians' tongues are very valuable.

Beatrice didn't know what to do, but Coffin had already thought of a solution for her.

"Why would I let you go looking for her, silly girl? I've prepared everything for you."

she says.

“I will find an opportunity to meet you: if I find that you have learned everything I taught you… then I will invite you to my home—then you will come in handy.”

The woman changed the subject.

“But if you haven’t learned it yet… Betty, you’ll have to wait, wait, until I think you’ve learned it… Will you disappoint me?”

Betty immediately raised her chin: "My brother said I never would!"

"Excellent..."

(End of this chapter)