The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1027 (Ch.1026) The Countryman's Surprise
A sick person is not considered a person.

This isn't harsh at all—because even when they're in a good mood, they're not exactly human.

There is no preference for houses.

If you treat it kindly, it will treat the person living in its body kindly; if you mistreat it, it will treat you the same way.

The doctors who arrived in the next few batches did not expect that their first task would not be to settle patients and immediately devote themselves to research, but rather to roll up their sleeves and become bricklayers or wall builders, repairing the 'most standard' building by imitation.

"We live in a huge, and humorous joke."

The doctors spent at least four days working on the project, during which time citizens with mild symptoms or no symptoms joined in, bringing their children or wives. Some who were unable to move had no choice but to lie on the muddy ground or find a slightly cleaner plank of wood.

Their cries of pain were accompanied by the clanging and banging of metal.

Jeff Potts has appeared even less frequently.

Day .

The number of patients is increasing.

Some patients with mild symptoms who saw the newspaper in the city were overjoyed.

They considered the suburban hospital to be a flawless sanctuary, just as the newspapers described—they would rush there with their children, husbands, or parents, seeking help from the doctors at Beatrice.

Arrived in the morning.

In the afternoon, he became a bricklayer.

Before long, Florence started joking about it.

Edward Snow was deeply worried and spoke privately with Kingsley several times before deciding to tell Williams Jenner about the 'map'—Kingsley wrote a letter to the court, but he didn't know if the letter would arrive safely.

“It’s tough, Kingsley. London is only going out, not coming in right now.”

After half an hour.

When Edward Snow dispersed the students and handed the hand-drawn sketch to the awakened Williams Jenner:
The old man couldn't say whether it was good or bad.

He didn't use the lady's smelling salts, and his face turned pale and then red—the changes were quite noticeable since he was white.

“‘We’ve saved a chameleon…’” Kingsley muttered, mimicking someone’s tone, just as Florence overheard him.

"What are you saying?! Good heavens... Kingsley?"

Jenner and Edward Snow both turned to look at him.

"...I only think of my friend. If he were here, he would definitely say this...Sir, I suggest you don't worry about the current situation—frankly, you've lived longer than me, shouldn't you know long ago what's going on in this city?"

Kingsley said that the city of London was like a pregnant woman, and judging from her withered and occasionally sneerful appearance, the child must be a thoroughly bad seed inside and out.

His interruption gave the old dean a much-needed respite.

Williams Jenner patted his most outstanding student on the shoulder, and through his glasses, a faint, barely perceptible worry flickered in his eyes, which were always focused on 'medicine'.

"I think…"

Edward and Kingsley helped him up and propped him against the headboard (incidentally, the pillow at the headboard was brought by Florence herself), and the only lady in the room handed him a kettle (also a kettle).

Williams moistened his chapped lips, but made no move to speak.

sigh.

He sighed deeply, in a manner befitting only the best, and after a long while, he finally spoke:
"I completely forgot to bring my little down comforter..."

The room was as quiet as if a bomb had just gone off, and as desolate as a deathly ruin.

The old dean rubbed his eyes, propped himself up to sit up, and awkwardly crossed his bare legs.

He seemed to regain his youth in an instant, uttering his usual witty and unexpected remark. "I can't let my students worry, can I?" His gentle, aged eyes swept over the three faces, each a mixture of amusement and exasperation, lingering on one for a moment. "Edward, Kingsley, Florence. Good children, old man, sit up. You should go take care of the patient..."

Edward Snow knelt by the window, adjusting his glasses. "I don't recommend you force yourself. This is cult instigation. We must notify the court, the oversight bureau, the church, and the city police department as soon as possible—I need your handwritten letter, right now."

Williams clenched his fist and argued, "It was just a coincidence, Edward, just a coincidence."

Edward watched his teacher quietly.

Williams Jenner avoided his gaze, slowly turning his face away: "Falcon Potts wouldn't do that... Edward. He values ​​power far more than medicine, and his ties with the Greys are ambiguous—or blatantly so. But, Edward, believe me, he doesn't have the guts to associate with cultists..."

Edward knew perfectly well who that vice-dean was.

He wants power.

"You still have money! You idiot! I didn't tell you to swallow it all! Are you trying to kill me?!"

The temporary villa not far away.

Falcon Potts was chasing his younger brother Jeff Potts around the living room with his cane—both of them were so fat that as they circled the sofa, they looked like two incredibly bouncy fats bouncing on the carpet.

A sofa that is three chairs long.

After circling around twice, they were panting and insisted on finding a place to sit down.

"Are you trying to kill me?! I told you! Don't interfere with the last funding round! Isn't the West End's donation enough for you to buy those handkerchiefs to wipe your ass?"

Jeff Potts looked rather frightening at that moment.

Starting from his forehead, deep brown tear troughs made him look like a candle doll.

The makeup on her face is too thick.

“…I still have a use for her. Besides…” He glanced furtively at his brother, “Who would investigate? It was permitted by the Queen…”

"The Queen did not permit you to gamble away the money meant for building houses and providing food and drink for the citizens! By the grace of God, why did I have to bring you to London?!"

“…I didn’t gamble.” Jeff Potts swiftly unfolded his fan, clearly unconvinced by his brother’s explanation. “It was an investment, Mr. ‘Big Potts.’ My dear girl, she has a distant relative who’s quite influential…I heard he’s the deputy sheriff of the Bristol Police Department…”

Seeing that his brother had caught his breath, he raised his voice even louder.

It's just an investment, not gambling, so why do you have to take action?

“Ocean trade. Have you heard of it? To me, the people in London are quite ‘country bumpkin’—this business is wonderful, you are not as resourceful as a country bumpkin like me… Once this money turns over and rolls around a few times, I only need to rub off the dirt on it, and it will be enough for you to eat and drink for thirty or fifty years… Mr. ‘Big Potts’.”

He became increasingly excited as he spoke, only to find that Falcon Potts's expression suddenly turned sour.

"elder brother?"

Jeff Potts fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist that was almost like armor, the jeweled ring, and the jewelry chain that he wished he had four or five more hands to wear with all that money—in this respect, people in London could barely be considered 'worldly'.

The jewelry designs are quite trendy.

"...Don't blame me, Jeff."

Falcon Potts stared at his younger brother.

"elder brother?"

“Don’t blame me. You…maybe…” He sighed.

He sighed, looking like a kind person.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you to London, Jeff.” He sounded tired.

(End of this chapter)