The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1188 Ch.1187 Encounter on the Road
If Bruno Mondes didn't have a daughter.

Then.

Who is the Eva Mondes they met?

In other words: the 'ghosts' that the townspeople could never see appeared right in front of them?

Roland was the first to rule out 'Ghost'.

—As the executor of the court, he still possessed some judgment, even as the wrench fell silent from the steam engine.

“I can ‘see’ without relying on my eyes, Theodore, Lulu. She’s ‘alive.’”

Halida nodded in agreement, as if to testify: she was close enough to hear the girl's breathing clearly.

How can a ghost make breathing sounds?

Rupert subconsciously touched his coiled white hair: a tiny metal ring within the white hair.

Her anchor.

This is not a dream.

"...Sir? Madam?"

After working for about ten minutes, John ran over excitedly, holding up a 'colorful' stone: after countless years of erosion, this riverside stone had been washed until it was crystal clear and smooth, even resembling a 'work of art' sold in small shops.

“I guarantee this thing would sell for twenty pounds in London. Last time I saw a painter put a piece of cow dung on his canvas and people were willing to pay for it.”

Rupert makes no secret of her malice towards a certain group of people—even if the path she takes belongs to the Ellette Art Society.

"Twenty pounds?" Little John blinked.

He assumed that Rupert, the young lady from London, also loved this beautiful, rare stone, the "Fantastic Stone."

The boy reluctantly lowered his head, glanced at the object a few more times, and slowly reached out his hand.

Rupert: ?

"Thank you, John. I just need to look at it up close; I don't need to pick it up."

"...You don't want it?"

He was overjoyed to have it back: "If you remember, you can find me at the blacksmith's shop in the east of the village. I'll put it on the shelf..."

Rupert thought to himself, "I would never go to a dirty blacksmith's shop for a half-broken stone in my entire life," and patiently replied, "Where are we going next?"

I'm fine with going anywhere.

To these Londoners, the whole of Ildor Sinther was eerie—even if they disregarded the mayor’s daughter, Eva Mondes.

Dave couldn't understand why there would be people in the world who were idle, and why idle people would happen to gather together and live in the same town: that was his assessment of Ildor Sinther.

in the afternoon.

John took them to see a huge windmill (just an ordinary windmill) and spent an afternoon with a woman who sold sugar cubes, talking about her husband who was sometimes brave and sometimes useless.

Dave Lawrence wasn't particularly interested in the unique weaving techniques of the local weavers, but Rupert did learn a few tricks from them.

then.

Before it even got dark, the streets were already crowded.

"It's time to finish work, Mr. Lawrence. We should go home for dinner, shouldn't we?"

"It's only... four o'clock? Five o'clock? Is this how you guys spend your lives?" Dave took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, looking completely bewildered—he was even getting used to the town's oddities now.

“Not only should you not cheat your own life, but you should also not cheat your own stomach.” Little John took a half step back, tipped his hat to Roland, and then quietly told Rupert that if he missed the stone he had picked up from the stream, he should go to the blacksmith’s shop to find him.

then.

Without looking back, he took off running home.

Roland and his group stopped at the crossroads. After work, or after a day of 'busy' making a living, they smiled and walked together or brushed past each other, occasionally casting curious glances at them.

“...I’ve never seen so many smiling faces in London,” Lawrence muttered.

The faces of most London workers looked like a mother dying every day. The only difference was that some had just died recently, while others had been dead for over a decade—you could tell from the subtle differences in their faces.

Those whose mothers have recently died are either lifeless or have frighteningly red eyes, always giving the impression that something terrible has happened to them; those who have been dead for over ten years show almost no 'sadness' or 'anger' on their faces, like a moving corpse moving between the sun and the moon.

These people are used to their mothers dying; they've long since become numb to it.

But the inhabitants of Ildossir were different: their mothers seemed to grow in batches from the ground, so there was never any need to worry about them.

"Are you planning to go to the orchestra tonight?"

“The children are all waiting, Mei. You don’t need another weaver like me…”

"But with you, it's like a dragon having a tail."

"The tail is unimportant to a dragon..."

Two women carrying baskets brushed past Dave Lawrence, chatting and laughing. They were more focused on Roland's face, Theodore's muscular physique, and, as they covered their mouths to stifle a laugh, Lawrence's belly—these women actually had a 'party' at night?
A textile club? A band?

“When I came here years ago, I had the same expression as you, sir.”

A stranger suddenly struck up a conversation.

He came from the west, with a bright yellow towel draped over his shoulder. He had a mole the size of a grain of rice under his right eye, which would sway along with his eyes and eyebrows when he made expressions.

The move was somewhat sudden, and Dave Lawrence hesitated for a moment: "...Yes, sir."

When the muscular man greeted Theodore and Rupert with a smile, Lawrence finally realized what was happening and, like a fat goose, cried out in a high-pitched voice, "You're not a local?!"

"Hey, I've been here for about ten years? You could call me a 'half-local'..."

As he spoke, he turned his shoulder in a certain direction—Dave Lawrence could tell that the man was unlikely to linger.

Are you going home?

"Where are you going home? I want a drink." His accent had become heavily assimilated, and his pronunciation was somewhat slurred like a dragon's. He raised his hand and gestured in that direction: "Old gold digger."

Dave Lawrence had some ideas and turned to ask Roland and Theodore—in his view, servants and women had no right to make decisions.

Theodore asked Rupert in a low voice.

The latter was somewhat reluctant—but apart from the old gold digger, there weren't any better restaurants in town.

"I wouldn't touch even half a slice of bread."

She muttered.

Theodore and Roland had many questions about Eva Mondes, or the Mondes family. Similarly, Dave Lawrence had questions about the gold mine.

They prefer to ask an 'outsider' rather than a local.

When it came to the old Nuggets, the person replacing John was a tall, thin waiter—clearly, there was no such thing as 'fast' or 'well' today.

"What would you like to ask? I haven't seen any people from out of town for quite some time."

The man with the sweat towel didn't care whether he was paying or Dave Lawrence was paying. He casually ordered a few beers and took out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it.

“…Gold mine, sir. I’m from London, and I do some jewelry business.”

Dave Lawrence kept rubbing his hands together; the afternoon's survey had left him somewhat anxious.

There's little chance of losing money on this deal; at worst, you'll just lose the cost of a round-trip train ticket. But when people have high expectations, they inevitably become anxious and worried about losing what they've gained.

Especially those who run big businesses.

“What a coincidence, I also came from London,” the man in the sweat towel said with a mischievous grin.

(End of this chapter)