Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 131
Charlotte’s Letter
[ Charlotte Otis. I don’t know if you recognize my name.
However, if you have found this letter, it must mean that you have had some interaction with the eldest of the Otis family. So I assume you may have heard at least a little about me.
How is my story being told now? In what era are you living? How many generations has the curse on Otis continued to pass down?
I sincerely hope that the misfortune of Otis has not lasted too long. But ‘his’ anger is dark and unrelenting, like the deep sea, so the temporal distance between you and me is likely very vast.
With that said, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Charlotte Otis, granddaughter of Neil Otis, the first head of Otis, and the third household head of the Otis family.
I was also the one who created Bertrand’s rules that you are well familiar with. I was the one who initiated the long wager with ‘him’.
Yes, the ‘wager’ that has brought you here.
You likely found this letter in the separated room of the head on the fourth floor, correct? I can’t quite imagine what that room must look like in your time, but I expect you faced many difficulties in reaching it. ‘He’ was always very reluctant to let others approach the fourth floor.
Nevertheless, I am infinitely grateful to you for overcoming all those trials. Even if the liberation of Otis fails, the fact that you are our benefactor will not change.
I have spoken at length. It’s about time I got to the point. How did you come to know about the wager between ‘him’ and Otis, brave one?
Was it that an outsider, completely unrelated to Otis, must guess ‘his’ true name? Is that correct?
Rest assured. This letter was not written to give you mere hints for the riddle. I know ‘his’ true name. I have clearly written the answer in this letter.
But, kind benefactor, could you spare me a moment of your time? Before ending this wager, there is a story I must share with you.
It is a story about the tragedy of Otis. About how Otis came to be ensnared in this curse, and the truth behind it.
It is a story that no one in your time would know. I lost the right to pass down the truth to the next generation, and ‘he’ would never tell it himself.
The reason I want to tell you this story, even if it’s only through this letter, is that you, who have braved many dangers to come this far, deserve to know the whole truth.
It is also my selfish wish that the sins, the tragedy, and the truth of Otis will not be forgotten.
So, please listen. You may take this letter out of the room if you wish, but I recommend reading it all here if possible.
The moment you step out of the room, you will likely come face to face with ‘him’.
The story I am about to tell combines the account of my grandfather, Neil Otis, and the story that ‘he’ told directly.
The story begins like this… ]
* * *
In the days when knights roamed the land, wielding spears and swords in pursuit of romance and honor, Otis was said to be a great noble family.
They commanded many knights, backed by the overwhelming wealth granted by vast fiefs. I heard they even produced a queen at one point.
But the winds of a new era brought the downfall of many, and Otis was among them.
By the time my grandfather, Neil Otis, came to head the family, there was no trace left of the old glory of Otis.
All that remained were small plots of land, barely enough to maintain a minimal level of dignity, the reputation of a 「 once 」 noble house, and a distant connection to the Count of Sylvester.
Neil Otis detested poverty. He would boastfully declare that he was not meant to live like this.
「 I can’t live like this forever. I am destined to rise much higher. 」
He wanted to throw himself into various business ventures. Every attempt was thwarted by his strict parents, leading to repeated failures.
「 Live within your means, Neil. Excessive greed leads only to ruin. 」
Every time he clashed with his parents, Neil would seek an outlet for his frustration. The best target, of course, was his younger brother, Edgar.
「 You idiot. Useless brat! You’re nothing but a worthless leech draining the family’s wealth. Do you understand that? 」
Edgar Otis. The poor boy, eight years younger than Neil, would lower his long eyelashes every time his brother vented his anger. It was a sight of utmost sorrow and pity.
