Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 121
Rogéros was nowhere to be seen.
Alan leaned against one of the hallway pillars, the dim shadows perfectly enveloping his body. He felt a small sense of relief in the comfort of the darkness as he fell deep into thought. At the center of his mind was, unsurprisingly, Rogéros Walter.
Since returning from the kitchen, Alan hadn’t seen even a trace of Rogéros.
There was no way Rogéros didn’t know that Alan and Richelle had taken care of the chef, yet he remained unseen. Alan had been certain that by morning, Rogéros would appear, either to mock him, imprison him, or strike him across the face.
‘To think he’s completely disappeared…’
It was an obvious neglect. This behavior didn’t suit Rogéros, who had previously interfered with every single move Alan made.
It was only natural that Richelle felt uneasy. Although Alan had advised her not to waste time trying to figure out Rogéros’s intentions, he too was holding back his own suspicions.
After all, it felt like… Rogéros actually wanted them to enter the fourth floor.
The very floor he had been so intent on keeping hidden.
‘But why?’
What stung the most was that they had no other choice but to play along with Rogéros’s unclear mercy, dancing to his tune.
Even though the feeling of being played was painfully clear.
Alan stifled a small, heavy sigh. Just then, he heard a jingling sound from down the hallway.
Startled, he pressed himself against the wall and cautiously peeked out from the shadows. The head maid, whom he had been waiting for, was approaching.
The bundle of keys hanging from her waist made a rhythmic clattering sound. Alan narrowed his eyes.
From now on, Alan Otis had to steal those keys.
Of course, it wouldn’t be easy. The management of the keys was the head maid’s most crucial responsibility, and the roses of this mansion were incredibly sensitive about anything that disrupted their ‘human acts’.
‘But I have no choice.’
He had promised Richelle that he would get the keys today. He didn’t want to break that promise.
Sharpening his focus and relaxing his tense shoulders, he held onto a sliver of hope. If Rogéros truly wanted them to enter the fourth floor, perhaps stealing the keys would be simpler than expected.
Just as he was about to time his move to dash out toward the head maid—
“…!”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Alan jerked back against the wall and quickly turned around.
“Oh, sorry! Did I startle you?”
Standing there, with wide eyes, was Richelle Howard.
Alan’s face flushed slightly. How embarrassing, getting caught like this.
He cleared his throat a few times and tried to appear nonchalant.
“Not really… What’s going on?”
He glanced at the head maid, who was still checking a stain on the hallway decor.
The time was approaching. Alan stepped out of the shadows.
“Let’s talk later. I was just about to go key fishing.”
“Fortunately, I came just in time. I’m here to tell you that you don’t need to get the keys.”
Richelle’s calm response left Alan puzzled.
“What do you mean, I don’t need to get the keys?”
“How about we discuss this somewhere else? The head maid is getting closer.”
“Oh, right.”
Confused, but trusting Richelle, Alan led her to his study. He knew that whatever she did, she always had a solid reason behind it.
Once they entered the study and closed the door, Richelle revealed what she had been carrying.
It was a simple rattan basket.
“Let’s have something to eat first, shall we? You haven’t eaten anything yet, have you?”
“Well, no, but… eat?”
“I didn’t bring much, but it’s something.”
Richelle walked over to the table and began laying out biscuits, vegetables, and fruit. Alan’s jaw dropped.
“Wait, did you… go down to the kitchen?”
“We can’t starve until we escape from this place.”
“But that was so dangerous…!”
“Starving for too long is just as dangerous, Alan.”
The sound of his name calmed him slightly. Richelle began brewing tea as Alan, still flustered, sat down awkwardly.
“I don’t really have much of an appetite…”
“If you say you’re not hungry, I’ll be upset. You need to eat well to stay strong.”
Her stern gaze left Alan with no choice. He quietly picked up a biscuit and took a bite.
After filling his stomach and washing it down with some tea, Alan finally broached the topic he had been waiting to discuss.
“So, what do you mean by ‘I don’t need to get the keys’?”
“I already got them.”
“What?”
Richelle placed the bundle of keys on the table. Alan’s eyes widened in shock.
“How did you… The head maid had them hanging from her waist…”
“Madam Otis gave them to me.”
Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. This was one of those moments.
Alan shoved his chair back so hard it toppled over, clattering to the floor.
“What do you mean… You went to see my mother?”
Alan’s face paled with a mix of anger and fear. Richelle shook her head calmly.
“Madam Otis was the one who called for me.”
The story she told next was delivered in a calm, detached manner, as if she had stripped it of all emotion. She spoke of the things Madam Otis had experienced at Bertrand, the burdens passed down through the generations to the ladies of the Otis family.
And finally, Madam Otis’s last words.
“She asked me… to take good care of you, Alan.”
