The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1017 Ch.1016 Selection

While Beatrice was holding Miss Wendy, enjoying the grandeur of the courtroom's decor, the Taylor mansion had already been thoroughly searched inside and out by the executors led by Fernandez.

Fernandez wasn't mistaken.

They even found a rat's broken tail in a crack in the kitchen wall.

—But this does not mean that the disease spreading in London was brought by rats: the doctors, nurses, or citizens of London were not blind.

If everyone infected with the disease had been bitten, even the dumbest person could guess the source of the disease.

But, it didn’t happen.

Those who were not infected mentioned that they contracted the disease after being bitten by rats: they did complain that as the cats died one after another, rats even dared to cross the streets in groups during the day, in the bright sunlight.

However, this does not prove that the disease originated from rats.

Fernandez should consider the rats and the plague separately: the former may be a conspiracy by some ritualist.

He ordered the other executives to go home immediately—to their own homes. Then, he'd smash open any wall that didn't look right and take a good look… He desperately hoped his guess was wrong.

He was disappointed.

Of the fifteen executives who left, seven said they found holes gnawed into the walls of their homes by some kind of creature—these complex and disordered passages almost proved that at least half of London's citizens were no longer safe.

In shock and anger, Fernandez immediately rushed back to the courtroom and reported the matter to Enid.

"hold on."

Enid's answer did not satisfy Fernandez.

Maybe.

Too many answers had failed to satisfy him—Fernandes could understand why Enid said that: even in the most chaotic London, death was almost unbridled and swaggering into the streets—yet, not a single ritualist could be seen.

He knows why.

But he couldn't accept it.

"We must act, sir! Otherwise, once that ritualist unleashes the swarm of rats..."

Enid was engrossed in the magazine in her hands: it was a newspaper created specifically for gentlemen, which frequently published the latest fashion trends, gadgets that men like, and different 'tools' for different occasions—men always like all sorts of tools.

Such as now.

Enid turned to this page.

It was printed with a folding hunting knife wrapped in cowhide.

"Fernandez".

"Yes, sir! My brothers and sisters have already—"

"Does Roland like knives? Or does he prefer firearms? I bought him a tie and a bow tie before; he doesn't seem to care much about color or style... What else does he like? Canes? I know that; he's already collected quite a few canes, hasn't he?"

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Fernandez: ...

"grown ups."

"Ok?"

"Perhaps half of London has been hollowed out by termites."

"It's not that serious."

“Lady Enid Jutia!” Fernandez could no longer tolerate his boss’s 'whims' and raised his voice, a rare occurrence for him: “We need to get moving!”

The office was quiet.

Wow...

Wow.

Enid turned a couple more pages before glancing at Fernandez: "Do you know what the consequences would be if we sent in executives to search half of London now?"

Fernandez gritted his teeth: "We are the sword of the benefactor! Rumors cannot—"

The woman behind the desk raised her index finger.

Awe-inspiring flame burned in her deep brown, bottomless pupils.

“You know exactly what I mean, Fernandez. Playing dumb means you’re willing to risk your brothers and sisters for the sake of so-called ‘half of London’—it seems you shouldn’t call them ‘brothers and sisters’ but rather ‘tools to be sacrificed,’ isn’t it?”

"A tool sacrificed for your personal justice."

Fernandez was clearly aware of Enid's concerns, but he was just pretending not to understand.

Why are there no ritual performers on the streets now?
Those annoying groups of preachers, carrying little flags, are all made up of ordinary people—why?
Because those who perform the rituals can also contract the disease.

It's that simple.

Before the transmission method of the epidemic is clear, which ritual performer would be foolish enough to go out into the street and accept anyone who comes like a prostitute busy making money to install wooden styling tools for her son?
Even Gao Huan wouldn't be this arrogant.

The farther one travels, the more one reveres death—simply put: fear of death.

“…My lord.” In an instant, Fernandez seemed to have aged more than ten years.

He was not allowed to, so he took a few steps back, plopped down on the sofa, and rubbed his face vigorously a few times.

After a while, she managed to squeeze out a sob from her throat:
"...They shouldn't have ended up like this."

Fernandez could almost foresee that if the other side made any move, the civilians would be the first to suffer.

Tens of thousands, even those whose numbers he could barely count with his meager, almost nonexistent, swarmed like a tsunami, breaching walls, carriages, streets, and villas. They swept across the land, leaving nothing but desolation…

By the time.

Everything is too late.

"That's so selfish..."

Since he dared to mutter in front of an eighth-ringed official, wasn't he afraid the other person would hear him? Who exactly is Fernandez de Winson?

He was grateful to Enid Jutia for saving his life, but he couldn't allow her to trample on his bottom line: his bottom line was the reason he became an executive officer.

Unlike the ritual practitioners of other sects.

In such a critical moment, if we were to back down...

Why does he insist on doing this job?
Wouldn't it be better to take Gilles to live a simple life in another city?
“Of course you’re selfish, Fernandez. Humans are inherently selfish…aren’t you?” Enid slowly closed the magazine, resting her chin on her hand as she stared at him. “You have a kind heart—you must have been feeling really stifled these past ten years, haven’t you?”

Fernandez kept his head down and didn't speak.

No.

Not for ten years.

Because there haven't been such horrific cases and disasters in the past decade...

Today is different.

They were born for this, and they deserve to die for it.

“My lord.” Fernandez stood up abruptly, as if he had made up his mind: “If you do not agree, I will go myself.”

He looked back seriously, even though the other person was the one he respected most.

"I will personally appeal for a search and removal of every house that may contain rat nests, starting in the eastern district..."

"If you still disagree..."

Enid looked at him with interest, as if wondering what the answer would be after 'still disagree'.

“If you still disagree, I will do it anyway—after that, you can transfer me out of the courtroom, or… I don’t know, maybe it’s up to you, is that alright?”

Enid smiled.

She raised her finger and lightly touched Fernandez's chest.

"Touch your heart, Fernandez."

The executive officer, who had just finished speaking, looked completely bewildered. This was not the answer he had expected: "...Sir?"

"Touch it."

then.

The bear-man stupidly raised his palm and pressed it against his chest.

"grown ups?"

"Does it jump very high?"

“…Oh…yes…yes, that’s impressive.”

"That's really interesting..." The woman's deep brown eyes held a hint of emotion.

Her heart had not beaten for pity and sacrifice for many years.

Keshihai.

This is the kind of person you'd expect a presiding judge to be.

Is he okay?
If he can't do it, you don't have any other choice, right?

after all.

I'm the presiding judge now, and I get to decide everything.

“I will report this to the Queen, Fernandez. Give me half a day, half a day, to inform all the officials in London—tell them to shut their mouths and prepare to foolishly go door-to-door spreading the disease…”

Enid added another condition as Fernandez Devinson looked on in disbelief.

"Roland is not allowed to be brought along."

she says.

(End of this chapter)