The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 40 Ch.40 Chloe's House

Mr. William Cordoni's shoe shop was given a new lease of life.

That's what it is.

Ever since Roland gave him the drawings, and after he finished the finished product and put it on for a few looks in front of the ladies and ladies, the outcome of the matter was determined.

'boots? Oh, this style is made by Mr. Cordoni. ’

Roland told them casually.

‘I heard that Mr. Cordoni’s ancestors were shoemakers who specialized in serving nobles. These are all in the style of box bottoms. ’

'Of course, what we wear is not just style, but also history. ’

The man who was as strong as a bear even brought his little princess to the door to express his gratitude. He was extraordinarily honest and carried two bottles of wine, a brand new black-lacquered gentleman's staff with a silver-frosted tip, and a pack of honey crisp candies.

Judging from the gift, Roland knew that Mr. Shoemaker made a lot of money from his help.

The cane was hung on the wall.

——‘If you could focus on yourself, you wouldn’t follow that black crow everywhere every day. ’

The uncle still had the same idea, thinking that Roland was getting paid by "selling his looks" and hanging out with Enid, a woman with a bad reputation, no dowry, and who was about to lose her beauty in old age——

This was an act of depravity, and he was not optimistic about Roland's future.

Although he also said that Rolando should have contact with those noble ladies...

Do the two conflict?

"Roland Collins in his prime~"

"He is the little angel of the East District!"

"Oh~Beautiful Collins~"

"Wet Collins~"

-

Place your upper lip against your lower lip and don't separate it for an hour.

"It's so cute that you can't do anything to me."

Roland stared.

The words in his sight suddenly disappeared.

shield.

His newfound skills.

It can prevent you from being disturbed by something and causing you to lose sleep for half a night.

"Maybe Apprentice Roland has one."

He whispered to himself, which aroused questions from those around him.

"Roland?"

On the carriage.

Him and Fernandez.

Yesterday, someone went to the police station to report a case, saying that strange noises always appeared at home every night (the reporter swore they were definitely not rats).

The police station reported it to the Supervision Bureau.

So, this boring task fell into the hands of Roland and Fernandez.

Coincidentally, Roland knew the person who reported the crime...

Mrs.

Cherie Chloe, wife of Mr. Minsi Chloe.

The young lady who often traveled to the store with other ladies to buy flower petals.

The carriages equipped with silent reeds were quiet and smooth, and like other tall horses, they marched into the West District with their heads held high - and so did the coachmen.

When they met each other's eyes in the stream, they could see the same pride in each other's eyes, and among them, the coachman from the Tribunal seemed out of place.

He kept a straight face and stared straight ahead.

'Pooh! Pretend! ’

The coachmen despised his seemingly calm behavior but his inner excitement.

The horse-drawn carriage entered the West End, and its destination was adjacent to Marilebo Park.

Passing through flower-filled streets, bustling department stores and fine clothing shops, private mansions come into view.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Roland even felt that the air in the West District was much fresher.

The noise is far away from the ears, and the whole area is extremely quiet.

Mr. Chloe's home is near here.

"In earlier years, ordinary people were not allowed to enter here."

Fernandez joked. Even so, Roland still keenly caught the envy in his eyes.

"I thought you lived here too."

Roland joked.

"I really want to, Roland."

Fernandez did not hide his desire, shrugged, put his hand on the hood of the car, and glanced at it: "Do you know how much a house costs? The corresponding identity - executive officer Not qualified."

"Including hiring maids, footmen, housekeepers, coachmen, and cooks, it costs at least three to four hundred pounds a year - and this is even if I leave out the gardener and personal housekeeper."

Fernandez frowned and counted on Roland's fingers: "Decoration, daily expenses, receptions and salons, receiving and returning gifts, traveling, hunting, various festivals..."

"Roland, living here is not just about buying a bed and lying down on it."

Three or four hundred pounds a year...

Roland grinned.

This is too much.

"many?"

Fernandez shook his head: "This is the minimum. You must know that the highest standard is twenty-four servants. Only wealthy businessmen or bankers with an annual income of thousands or tens of thousands of pounds can have such a luxurious life."

For the first time, Roland felt that the pound he received every week was nothing.

"It was nothing."

Fernandez pointed at the shops with polished glass.

"You can go around here for even half a circle. No, it won't even take you half a circle. A month's salary will be gone."

He pinched his fingers, specifically referring to the cigars or long cigarettes held in the hands of the men: "When you become a formal ceremony member, your weekly salary will be increased to three pounds. When you reach my level, it is five pounds - I want to live here. It’s going to take another lifetime.”

Roland was very surprised by Fernandez's words.

It's not the luxurious life he talks about, but the person who says these words...

Fernandez de Vinson himself.

This ritualist who follows the rules and seems honest, this ritualist who knows everything about the upper class life, seems...

There is another side.

"Although what those vultures did is despicable, I have to say that if you want to live a more comfortable life..."

Fernandez licked his dry lips, and the way he suppressed his voice seemed a bit sneaky: "Roland, you must remember to learn from this in the future. One day it will be your turn to do it yourself."

Roland didn't answer.

He was born in hell, so he would not harshly criticize a person's desire to be good and extravagant.

Rather, with this conversation, Fernandez became three-dimensional in his mind - more like a living person, rather than a machine that hates cultists and pursues justice.

In terms of positions, the highest one should be Enid?

Her weekly salary should be more than ten pounds, right?

"Lord Enid?"

Fernandez looked strange.

"Roland, do you know what the title of Presiding Judge means?"

He seemed to be laughing at Roland's ignorance, and raised the corners of his mouth: "Let's put it this way, if Lady Enid agrees, there are many people who are willing to offer the best-located mansion here, including a whole team of well-trained servants, and provide them with Pay a high salary every year.”

Roland had never heard Enid say this.

"If you can embark on the path of the Holy Flame, perhaps Lady Enid's future will be your future..."

Sounds awesome.

But Ms. Enid looked so young.

Presiding judge, such a powerful title, Roland thought that only those old men could hold it.

What kind of ritualist is she?

When did you become a ritualist?

How long did it take?

Fernandez glanced at Roland, deliberately ignored the question, rubbed his forehead, and raised his hand to ring the bell.

"Here we are."

The carriage stopped in front of a 'small manor', with the door facing the garden.

There is no constant stench of feces creeping into your nose.

"Welcome to the new world."

Fernandez muttered, arranged for the driver, and led Roland out of the car.

The road under their feet was also paved with asphalt mixed with gravel, but it was much smoother than the road.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the flowers are fragrant.

very nice.

The two people stood at the door for a while.

After being notified, it took about ten minutes for the Chloe couple to arrive.

The two of them were dressed as if they were attending a salon:

The man's three-piece suit was straight, he was wearing a top hat, and his leather shoes were shiny.

The lady also dressed up in layers of camel-colored long skirts. The skirts were sewn with patterns that were not easy to find on ordinary days and were wrapped with sequins, but at this time they were shining as the woman swayed.

"Good day, Mr. Devinson."

Minsi Chloe has a sharp face.

Pointed chin, pointed nose, pointed eyes.

Paired with the pointed leather shoes under his feet, it looks like a dry, sharpened slender fruit knife.

His smile was routine, neither close nor far away, and there was nothing wrong with it.

"Good day, my lord."

Fernandez introduced him to Roland.

On the other side, Cherry Chloe was also staring at Roland with good eyes.