The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1033, Ch.1032: Deloz's Teaching
Before the disaster struck, Roland was staring blankly at the arched pillar by the window.

There's not much to write about when a beautiful person is lost in thought.

Aside from truly great works, such passages only appear in novels that think they are ornate but are actually verbose, lack focus, and have a chaotic and unclear structure.

What's truly terrifying is that these authors actually find pleasure and love in this. Which bastard sold them storybooks when they were kids?
The sound of a piano drifted from between the floors.

Shandel chatted openly with the believers surrounding and watching her, moving from one end of the conversation to the other, attending to each one without neglecting them, and keeping track of the appropriate time and boundaries.

Deloz grumbled as he fiddled with his instruments on a small square table that had been 'temporarily' set up.

Five minutes ago, that table had been unused with a chessboard and candles.

She was not valued by the believers, who, these young devotees who had 'decided to serve the gods with their bodies and souls,' cared nothing for detectors, sensors, or any other such instruments. Gears and steam, the latest scientific inventions, whether humanity would one day conquer any place—

They didn't care; they just wanted to surround Shandel Kratofer and ask her how she understood a certain passage in the Eden and whether she was involved in this year's selection of saints.

She was more respected in the church than in the courtroom, and Roland could tell that this respect did not come from her parents or grandfather.

"How impressive."

The girl, who had put on round glasses early on, muttered to herself.

The square table where she 'worked' was not far from Roland's: each person had their own table, and both were decorated on this floor.

“Sander doesn’t like them, Delos.”

“I didn’t see any indication that she ‘disliked’ it.” The craftswoman skillfully disassembled the heavy arm guards, smearing the areas that needed oil with brown ‘peanut butter’—which undoubtedly drew even more disgusted looks from many believers: according to the rules and their education, they shouldn’t do this.

“This is not peanut butter, Roland.”

"...How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I have seen people who are extremely hungry."

“I’m not ‘starving’.”

“I haven’t finished yet,” Deloz chuckled. “I’ve also seen people who are extremely greedy—what’s the difference between you and the cats that wait outside Daniel’s workshop all day long?” She scooped out a fingerful of grease and waved it at Roland. “Ever since Dahl—ever since Mr. ‘Wild Man’ fed them once, they’ve arrived on time every single day.”

"If this were peanut butter, I would arrive on time every day."

“Unfortunately not,” Deloz chuckled, “but I can prepare something for you… you…” As she spoke, she realized she might have crossed a line—especially since what followed sounded a little like flirting…

A girl who grew up in the "Fonseca" family, raised by Gilles Fonseca, a famous courtesan, would feel ashamed about these topics.

Roland said she was sure she and Rose would get along well.

He thought of the thief girl he hadn't seen in a long time, Nina Collins, whom he remembered as someone who could swear with rhythm and different tones—but in Deloz Fonseca's eyes, Roland was just starting to daydream again.

The girl, who had finally managed to show her playful side, was quite dissatisfied.

“You should continue the conversation about ‘peanut butter,’ you silly man.”

“I sense you don’t really like this topic, Delos.”

"Don't be so considerate. Men should always have some 'animalistic' instincts—are you going to invite me hunting in the woods near London that have at most some rabbits in the fall?"

Deloz lowered his head, each finger deftly moving as if it had its own thoughts.

They obeyed the commands of the mind codenamed 'Delos,' proceeding step by step, each going its own way, acting in a seemingly chaotic manner but actually following a pre-planned order.

This is undoubtedly a kind of skillful beauty.

"'Only when there's danger can it be called hunting; otherwise, it's just a stroll—why don't we wander along the London streets?' That's what I heard, Roland, but I think…"

Deloz paused for a moment.

"It makes some sense."

She actually wanted to say 'women like this', rather than the slightly cowardly 'there's some truth to it': but if she were to be direct, she would be cornered, so ashamed that even burying her face in a bowl of grease wouldn't save her from the unbearable situation that awaited her.

She merely used this tone, subtly reminding Roland, around the subject, of what kind of gentleman a woman, or rather, she, preferred:
A risk-taking, aggressive, arrogant but not truly reckless carnivore;
A complex atmosphere that is romantic, calculating, indifferent yet affectionate, calm and passionate.
A butterfly that is both near and far, a fickle, loyal yet oppressive hound, a conman you both love and hate, and a moon that is never perfect and mysterious.

Deloz wanted to say these words, but after thinking it over, she began to laugh at her own 'ability'—like Gilles Fonseca had laughed at her:
What makes you think you can say such things to Roland Collins?
my little sister.

You can't see yourself clearly, and you can't see men clearly either.

But Delos always wanted to argue, and he had inexhaustible energy to argue:

She wasn't driven by insatiable greed, or like those upper-class girls who schemed to extract a few more coins from their fathers, husbands, or brothers, just to flaunt what they had prepared for them and what they had sacrificed for them amidst the fragrant breeze of a feather fan.

She would never attend those boring, time-wasting, and enthusiastic parties.

Deloz was simply afraid.

Because at the "Fonseca" house, she had seen too many such "polite" gentlemen who practically asked "May I breathe?"

She couldn't imagine how she would face Roland if he ever turned into this. This city was terrifying.

It constantly spreads a highly contagious, invisible toxin—no matter the flesh or blood, no matter how brilliant the soul, as long as it's soaked for a few years…

Like soap in a bucket.

By the time you find it, it has already disappeared countless times.

The naive girl imagined and devised a set of completely impossible rules in her mind: she thought that as long as people never went to the sea, they would not drown, but she did not consider that many short-lived people had never even come close to the sea.

Regarding the matter of recklessness…

If there's a girl who likes to borrow things around (whether she actually returns them or not is another matter), you'll definitely pat her on the shoulder and warn her: who is the most 'troublesome' among them?

She'll surely regret it, just like many gentlemen and ladies who try to relax, escape pain, or soothe their souls in another world, only to unfortunately receive a novel they think is ornate but is actually verbose, lacking focus, and structurally chaotic and unclear.

When the truth is fully revealed, they can only glean fragments of information from the naked truth, which is not very pleasant.

It reads: It's too late.

Deloz is currently unaware that the girl, with her many thoughts, simply wants to apologize for her earlier 'rudeness'.

It has been a long time since we last 'talked'.

Roland is angry, isn't he?
Deloz put down the half-finger-long control stick, wiped the grease off his hands with a dry cloth, and looked up.

A startled glance.

In just a split second, she saw the man leaning against the arched wall lunge at her!
The jade ring binding her black hair shone brightly in the girl's eyes.

—Is he angry and going to beat me up?

or.

He wanted to be like those men who insulted his aunts, pulling his own hair and publicly humiliating himself with the most vicious words.
he…

Deloz had his own ideas about what he was trying to do.

My first thought: Were her fingers still clean?
The second question is, would Roland find it objectionable?
The third.

Does she smell of sweat? Could he smell the odor from her neck, armpits, or other perpetually damp areas?

the fourth.

he…

correct…

No, you learn really fast...

The girl receiving the hug even had time to adjust her posture, open her arms, and raise her head—so as not to ruin the atmosphere if she bumped into someone with glasses on her nose.

Absolutely right.

That’s it…

I love him so much…

what?
Shandel Kratofer...?
She's definitely going to stomp her feet in anger.

Deloz chuckled inwardly, proudly believing that his 'suggestion' had been adopted.

What happened next was not as romantic as she had imagined—or rather, it was exactly what was 'romantic' about her.

She was pulled into a warm embrace, and then, propelled by inertia, she twisted and fell, the two of them crashing heavily to the ground: she fell into Roland's arms.

A dull, cracking sound came from above.

Debris exploded.

She heard heavy breathing, terrified screams, and some familiar, sharp, piercing squeaks.

as well as.

The sound of countless crawling creatures.

"Deloz".

"...W-what's wrong? Roland?"

Do you like mice?

Deloz: ...

what?
(End of this chapter)