The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1126 (Ch.1125) - Pretending and Maturity

Roland smoked a cigar and listened quietly to an old man sobbing.

He didn't look down on men who had lost their tough-guy badges, nor did he say anything stupid like, "Why don't you fight them to the death?"

He had a similar childhood and knew most things about life, but unlike in the storybooks, he didn't have a knight teacher, a protagonist with extraordinary talent, or a bumpy but ultimately triumphant fate.

Rather than 'fighting desperately,' most people's choice is 'forget it' or 'endure it a little longer.'

Old Hamilton had done everything he could, and that letter was just the least significant of all.

But this incident saved his and Hamilton's fate.

"A strange fate, this is not the choice of the Crimson Tide."

Roland stood up.

"gentlemen?"

The middle-aged man, somewhat regretful, hurriedly wiped away his tears: "I beg you! I only beg you to save my daughter... adopt her... no, sir! Just send her to a textile factory or a pipe factory... she can work, she can do anything!"

"Are you perhaps a little unfamiliar with the courtroom?" Roland opened the door directly, stepping over the girls at the table and pulling it open.

In the shadows of the sunlight.

The thug wearing a felt hat was looking around impatiently.

"Time's up! Pretty face!"

“I have a bad memory, sir, may I ask again—you belong to the ‘Savi Brotherhood,’ don’t you?”

The thug chuckled angrily: "I'm telling you, don't cause trouble... Oh, another 'kind person'?"

He had seen many like that.

As soon as he came out of old Hamilton’s house, he started making arrangements to buy this and that—for the poor girl inside.

Poor girl?

It's just a meat can, isn't it?

She was born to face this fate, a fate that makes one experience ups and downs—the scoundrel doesn't understand the meaning of 'choice,' nor can he enter the true core of the Savi Brotherhood, nor access the "mysterious" key.

All he knew was that the women on this street would obediently stick their heads up and lift their legs, if he wanted to.

"One thing costs three shillings, and a pretty face. You don't think just anyone can come and go as they please in the Red Son's territory, do you?"

"My question is: you belong to the 'Savi Brotherhood'—all the thugs on this street do, right?"

Roland patiently asked again.

'Thug'.

This word really enraged the thugs.

—It sounds a bit convoluted, but these thugs really don't consider themselves 'thugs' anymore.

Unlike the men of the Gold Tooth Gang and the girls of the Elephant Gang.

The latter two, regardless of what they do—noble, vile, or shameless—always know their own identities: thugs, villains, or gang hooks, nightmares for the poor and rich, and enemies of the police.

They will always bear the mark of vulgarity, a mark that no amount of boiling water can erase.

These thugs who call themselves the 'Children of Crimson' are quite different.

They were practically begging to wear bow ties and be addressed as "sir".

"This street? Of course! We are—"

boom.

When the smoke billowed from the gun barrels and the felt hat fell to the ground, the hoodlum 'Mr.' realized what had happened.

He even staggered a couple of steps and touched the damp, grayish-white liquid between his eyebrows.

He collapsed to the ground.

"My benefactor! Sir! How dare you, how could you... how, how..."

How could someone kill someone on the territory of the Savi Brotherhood?

Old Hamilton wanted to say that, but when he saw those cold yet burning amber eyes, it was as if an invisible rope was tightly strangling his neck.

I couldn't say anything.

Roland sat down in the chair that Harida had brought, then took the frightened little Hamilton into his arms, held the girl on his lap, and combed her beautiful hair between his fingers.

"How are the days when you're well-fed and warmly clothed, little one?"

Perhaps it was the sound of gunfire, or a scene that was 'different from before'.

Perhaps little Hamilton wasn't as 'stupid' as her father imagined—how many children who've spent time in the mud are truly fools?
A spark of hope ignited in the girl's eyes, which held a mixture of emotions.

She wrapped her arms around Roland's neck, making herself comfortable sitting on his lap.

It felt much more natural than inside the room.

“I have never had enough to eat or wear… sir. My father was the same. He saved every penny he could, and he gave me the best pieces of bread.”

These words made old Hamilton's eyes widen in surprise.

Daughter… Her daughter…

"From now on, you'll all be able to do it."

"really?"

"real."

"Sir, the government and the church are unwilling."

“I guess so. Although I also guess you have no idea what ‘government’ or ‘church’ is—because I don’t know either.”

"...Sir?" The girl's face finally showed confusion.

She couldn't keep up with his leaps of thought.

“There will always be a world where people can eat their fill and stay warm, little Hamilton,” Roland kissed her forehead and tucked her loose hair behind her ear, “or a country. If you could read my memories, you would be filled with hope for life… Do you want that?”

“Read…what?” Little Hamilton blinked. “Are you going to save me, save my father?”

She dislikes ambiguous words and, like most children, always hopes to get a definite answer from adults.

"A true man never goes back on his word."

"I'm not a tough guy, you little fool."

Roland smiled.

“It wasn’t me who saved you,” he said.

…………

……

Hamilton didn't know how much blood was in a human body, but today they all know how many lives were lost, staining the entire street red.

Thirty-five.

Old Hamilton could count.

The intense smell of blood almost made him wonder who the 'Red Son' really was—first the bullets, then the explosive gunpowder that nearly deafened him.

then.

The maid, who had run out of ammunition, then at her master's signal, conjured two frightening scimitars from who-knows-where—which made old Hamilton instantly realize her identity.

An extraordinary person.

Just like his daughter.

An entity that possesses the power to touch the 'mysterious'.

The next five minutes were a once-in-a-lifetime experience for him: the Book of Eden often contains proverbs that exhort people to do good, using hell to frighten believers, saying that those who do not heed advice and never correct their ways will have their souls go to the most filthy and painful hell after death.

seeing is believing.

Old Hamilton has truly witnessed 'hell' with his own eyes today.

Severed limbs and broken bones.

Changzi refers to internal organs.

Wailing.

Without hesitation.

Show no mercy.

A brown shadow weaves through flesh and blood, its silver eyes remaining steadily indifferent amidst the occasional bursts of daylight.

Chilling.

He recalled the respect he had shown to the gray-haired and curly-haired girls, and the 'ignoring' of the brown-skinned maid, and a chill ran up his spine.

Such extraordinary people…

They won't hold a grudge, right?

"Thirty-five, sir."

She flicked the blood off the blade and walked lightly to her master, as nimbly as if she were chopping parsley.

"The ceremony also..."

The silver-eyed girl turned her head to feel it.

Soon.

soon.

“Bring everyone out, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Sir?” Old Hamilton was taken aback.

Take him out?
Where are you taking them?
Tribunal?
"Go to the Savi Brotherhood—I've heard there's someone who's been a staunch supporter of the Savi Brotherhood, supporting them in forming their own sect and carving out territory for their beliefs—their freedom? I hope you can tell him firsthand what's going on in that territory…"

"Since he can grant freedom to cult members, I suppose he can grant you freedom too, right?"

(End of this chapter)