The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1062 (Ch.1061) - Bait
Out-of-towner.

The London city guards were an affectionate nickname for all the citizens of the empire except for them—they weren't in quotes because they didn't consider it a derogatory term.

Must we say they are "poor and stingy, with gloomy faces dealing with debt collectors all day, but their faces light up when talking about the empire, as if the country's prosperity has nothing to do with them—oh, of course it does, without these people, who would wash my feet every night?"

People from other places are more concise.

It is a concentrated insult, a concentrated form of insult after a belly full of humiliation.

However, these stories are only passed down among the older generation.

Younger gentlemen and ladies don't follow these rules: young gentlemen make friends based solely on their sense of smell, seeing if they are compatible. When associating with ladies, they look at their speech, background, wealth, looks, and figure.

The same is true for the ladies of London.

A gentleman from an obscure, small town, if he has a good father or uncle, or even a face that is exceptionally handsome—as long as he can meet the discerning eyes of ladies (mainly the discerning eyes of their parents).

This brings to mind a love letter received by a poor gentleman from Falkshire:
It contains poems written by servants of unmarried girls, invitations from young widows, and even blatantly married noblewomen with grown-up daughters.

In short.

"Out-of-towner" is an insult.

In particular, there are insults that Londoners cannot say: it's like being invited to the Queen's table and insisting that the dishes are from France.

Not suitable.

That's incredibly ill-mannered.

Like the French.

“Gills…!” Prol whispered, touching Gilles’s hand to suggest that she shouldn’t say it in public.

Gilles doesn't think so.

She discovered something.

"Elena, that woman who always does things herself, really likes out-of-towners—the fountain in her yard is brand new this year. Gentlemen, London is wonderful, isn't it?"

Elena.

The shop this woman runs on the red-light district is about ten times the size of the House of Fonseca.

She ran her brothel using the kind of "unspecial" business model Fernandez described: of course, this approach of almost never picking and choosing, "reusing" each girl repeatedly, brought in enormous, incredibly quick wealth...

As the hostess, it's often difficult to refuse invitations from certain guests.

So what?

Ms. Elena enjoyed it immensely—not just literally, but Gilles always felt there was something wrong with her sense of taste.

She amassed wealth rapidly within a few years and made many connections with the upper echelons of society; Gilles, however, was not envious at all. She and Delos's parents had both been good doctors in the small town—at least they had never seen anyone die.

She knew all too well how terrible some diseases were: being covered in scars was by no means an 'honor' bestowed upon her by the poet's ink.

That's stupid.

"It's a nice fountain. We—"

The leader of the five didn't care about being an 'outsider' or a 'country bumpkin'; he continued to tap the muzzle of his gun and listen to their demands—Gills interrupted him.

“So, gentlemen, can you tell me,” she swept her gaze across the five not-so-young faces, their exposed skin gleaming, her eyes almost freezing, “how did you manage to get to the ‘House of Fonseca’ with just these two guns, unscathed, during a time of famine when the streets were teeming with rats?”

The girls are doing well.

These words caused the other men present to change their expressions: it wasn't to flatter anyone, but the men present were indeed more 'imaginative' than these girls who spent their days dancing in their rooms wrapped in skirts.

For an instant.

Xida's lover then launched into a tirade of abuse.

“Shameless! You actually used women! Shameless! This is worthy, worthy…” Clearly, he was of high status, always using the word “worthy”—the other five men were different. The young man’s “naive” accusations only drew their ridicule.

"If the girl hadn't stopped you, you'd probably have gotten a beating, kid. You deserve it, you should come over here and let me see how tough you are."

The young man angrily pushed away Xida's arm, wanting to rush over and teach them a lesson—or perhaps be the one taught a lesson.

Gilles stopped him.

“I don’t want to argue with you, gentlemen. But I will never allow my daughter to be used as bait to lure rats—I don’t mean to assume the worst, but, five of you, could you explain to us how you managed to walk nearly a mile? Perhaps you should show us the wounds on your bodies?”

The long hall fell silent for a moment.

Gilles was right.

They did indeed get there 'step by step'.

Because when there is no manipulator, the rats only chase after sweet flesh and blood—which has nothing to do with men or women, rich or poor.

A prostitute.

It enabled them to go very far: one arm at a time, the other arm at a time. Then came her two legs, her torso.

The five of them calculated that with just two more people, they could successfully leave the red-light district and reach the edge of prosperity: after three to five visits, they could get to where they wanted to go.

What's wrong with this?

"I won't agree to that."

"That's not up to you." The true intentions were revealed; the man raised his gun once more—they hadn't intended to 'force' anyone…at least, they wanted to maintain a semblance of civility.

Otherwise, what's the difference between them and robbers?
“We only intend to borrow two people, madam. If neither of you is willing to volunteer, I'll choose myself…”

“Sacrifice? You call this a sacrifice?” Gilles’ eyes widened. “We should unite in the face of disaster—”

"To hell with unity! It's full of man-eating rats! I'm in bed! In bed! I watched a woman just open the window, lean out and talk, and when she came back, only her lower half was bones! To hell with unity! I want two women right now! Damn it... We have to get to church! Right now!!"

He suddenly went mad, and his trembling musket was pointed at Gilles.

Proll immediately stepped in front of Gilles.

Then, Margaret and Sita blocked Proll's way.

And then.

They were their lovers.

It was another man.

The guests and girls at "House of Fonseca" managed to unite as one, but unfortunately, the musket was a hindrance to this spirit.

"No, men won't do."

After the two men stepped forward, the leader of the five shook his head and refused this 'sacrifice'—he wasn't stupid. Having two men with him would be far too dangerous.

Moreover.

The men in this house right now all seem to think they are full of chivalry.

Too dangerous.

"Just two, ma'am, or I'll have to shoot. Take these men down first—"

He pointed to the three men blocking the front.

And there was also Groen, the gentleman with a bruised face.

(End of this chapter)