Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 129
“Penny, Nero! Your hands!”
“It’s fine,” the twins said, hiding their hands behind their backs.
Then they shouted with urgency,
“Hurry up! There’s no time!”
“Go while we can still protect you!”
The children stomped their feet, and Richelle’s heart fluttered.
She knew she had to go. She also knew the twins had made their final decision, sacrificing themselves for her and Alan. She couldn’t let their sacrifice be in vain.
But not like this.
Richelle bit her lip, stepping back until her back pressed against the door.
“Penny, Nero. I want you to know…”
Perhaps this would be the last conversation she could have with these children.
“I want you to know that I…”
Though she knew time was short, the words wouldn’t come out. It was as if something was caught in her throat.
Maybe they understood how she felt.
The twins smiled, their faces looking far more mature, almost like they were twelve years old.
“We know, Teacher.”
“Thank you for loving us.”
The rose-covered door opened, and an invisible force pulled Richelle forward as if beckoning her to enter.
Her vision blurred, and the twins’ smiling faces grew fainter.
“…Thank you, too.”
Her first students, the ones she had nurtured with her own strength, and the mirrors that had reflected her deepest self. Even in the midst of the mansion’s strangeness, she couldn’t help but love them.
Goodbye, my little roses.
***
The door shut behind her, without hesitation, without mercy.
Richelle stood silently, staring at the tightly closed rose-covered door. Her trembling hand reached out to touch it.
“…”
Alan had distracted Rogéros, and the twins had bought her time to explore the fourth floor.
This was their one and only chance.
There was no room for hesitation.
Clenching her fists, Richelle turned around. In front of her was a long hallway.
Small, flickering candles cast a dim light on the red walls and the red carpet. Nothing else was present—not the foreign ceramics, sculptures, or famous paintings often seen in Bertrand.
Not even a single sound.
In the silent hallway, only the sound of her heartbeat echoed. Richelle began to walk, knowing exactly where she had to go—there was a door in the distance, barely visible in the shadows.
Her pace quickened, her thoughts falling away with each step. Was Alan safe? How much time did the twins have left?
Would she find what they truly needed here?
She started to run. The door that had seemed so far away now rushed toward her, almost as if it were running toward her as well. Perhaps it truly was.
She slowed down. What had felt like a door she’d never reach was now right in front of her.
Panting, Richelle looked up at the door. It was simple, almost plain, a heavy brown door that seemed oddly out of place.
“Is it locked…?”
She cautiously grasped the handle. To her surprise, the door opened easily, without so much as a creak, revealing its interior without resistance.
Richelle stepped inside, her senses alert.
“Ah…”
The first thing she noticed was the color red.
Next, she realized it was an ordinary bedroom—well, as ordinary as a room in a noble’s house could be. The space was large enough for the master of a household, and the furniture was old, clearly valuable antiques.
And yet, the overwhelming presence of the color red felt almost grotesque.
Red curtains, red carpet, red sofas, red bookshelves, a red table, red consoles, red dressers. Even the nightstands were red, and the grand canopy bed was draped in red curtains.
Even the miscellaneous decorations were all red. Standing in this red room, surrounded by red walls and red furniture, Richelle felt dizzy.
Despite the oddity of it all, the layout was that of a typical bedroom. There was even a strange sense of it being lived in.
‘Could this be Rogéros’ room?’
Richelle considered as she stifled the overpowering scent of roses.
There didn’t seem to be any other doors, suggesting this was the final room on the fourth floor. It was time to begin her search.
Richelle opened the nearest drawer. Miscellaneous items tumbled out with a clatter.
“So many coin pouches… and jewels. Why are they just thrown together in one pouch?”
The rattling jewels startled her. Carefully, she put everything back and moved to open the next drawer when—
“Gggh… aaggh…”
She heard it—quiet, barely noticeable unless one was listening intently.
A groan. The sound of a person in pain.
Startled, she spun around. The red room was still empty.
‘Or is it?’
Her gaze fixed on the canopy bed. It could have been a trick of the eye, but it seemed as though a shadowy figure was faintly visible behind the red curtains.
“…”
Richelle hesitated. Should she check? Was she about to touch something she shouldn’t?
But she had already entered a forbidden area. She couldn’t worry about her own safety now.
More than anything, this was a time to investigate anything suspicious—she didn’t even know what exactly she was supposed to find.
Determined, Richelle approached the bed. With a decisive motion, she yanked back the curtains.
“Ah…!”
Richelle’s body recoiled in shock. A scream and a wave of nausea welled up from deep inside her.
