Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 150
In front of Alan’s door, roses disguised as servants stood on guard.
Richelle approached them. With smiling faces, they stretched out their arms, blocking her path.
“Step aside. ‘He’ has permitted this.”
Her voice came out cold, even surprising herself. The roses, after briefly meeting her gaze, parted to let her pass.
As she walked between them and reached the door, Richelle recalled the rule about not entering someone else’s bedroom.
But she quickly shook her head. With all the secrets revealed, the ‘rules of Bertrand’ no longer held meaning.
She knocked on the door.
“Alan, it’s Richelle. I’m coming in.”
She waited a moment, but no response came. Could something have happened?
Before she even had time to think, her hand was already pushing the door open in urgency.
“Alan!”
The boy sat by the window, limbs sprawled carelessly.
A gentle breeze stirred his delicate golden hair, making it sway. Yellow sunlight brushed over his pale skin, rolling off like dewdrops.
“…Richelle?”
Hearing her at the door, he turned his head, eyes widening.
“You’re back! Are you alright? Are you safe?!”
Alan leapt up, his face bright with relief. In contrast, Richelle’s expression grew taut.
“I’m fine, but… Alan, your face…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Even as he asked if she was safe, he didn’t look safe himself.
Blood was visible at the corner of Alan’s mouth. His left cheek was slightly swollen and red—obviously, someone had struck him.
Richelle closed her eyes tightly as an unidentifiable swell rose in her chest.
“…Did he do this to you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. More importantly, what happened?”
His indifference to his own pain was unsettling. But how could she ignore the way he tried to shift the topic?
Suppressing a sigh, Richelle closed the door.
“…I found Charlotte Otis’s letter on the fourth floor.”
“Letter?”
There was little else to say. Richelle took out Charlotte’s diary and handed it to Alan.
Alan skimmed through it, letting out a low whistle.
“It’s quite long. Did you read it all? Was there anything useful?”
“It detailed the tragic history of what happened at Bertrand. And, of course, Rogéros’s true name.”
“Directly?”
“Directly.”
Alan’s expression brightened slightly.
“Well, that’s good. I thought it might contain yet another riddle.”
But Richelle couldn’t smile.
“After I left the fourth floor, I ran into him immediately.”
“What?”
Alan’s voice rose in alarm, and he looked Richelle over.
“That detestable creature didn’t even give you a moment’s rest. Did he do anything to you?”
“I’m unharmed. But, Alan.”
Richelle took a small breath, steeling herself as if to unsheathe a blade.
“He refused to keep his promise.”
“What?”
Alan, who had been glancing disapprovingly at her disheveled skirts, looked up sharply. Richelle gripped her hands tightly.
“Instead… he offered to grant me one wish.”
She recounted her conversation with Rose, explaining his true name, his past, and his current intentions.
When she finished, Alan looked pale and lost in thought.
“…Do you think he’ll actually keep his promise about the wish?”
“Probably.”
“Then that’s enough.”
Alan took a few steps back.
“Richelle, this is where you should stop.”
His gaze shifted out the window, his expression sinking as though he had made up his mind.
“Use the wish to ask him to release you.”
“Alan.”
“Hearing his past, it sounds like he’d be pleased to grant that wish. He seems eager to see you put yourself first…”
“Alan, I have no intention of leaving you behind.”
Richelle calmly interrupted him. The boy quickly turned to her, his sky-blue eyes brimming with quiet intensity.
“Listen to me, Richelle Howard. I have no intention of surviving at the cost of your sacrifice.”
“……”
“I absolutely refuse. I don’t care if Otis suffers for a hundred more years—your safety matters more to me than Otis’s freedom.”
Alan’s gaze was so firm, so unyielding, that she felt guilty just standing there.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
There was no giving up here, even if the only path left to them was one that led into the jaws of a starving lion.
Richelle’s mind began to spin rapidly. She considered countless possibilities, calculating the odds.
Once her thoughts settled, a soft smile curved her lips.
“I have no intention of sacrificing myself, Alan.”
“Exactly. So—”
“Nor do I have any intention of leaving you behind.”
“What?”
Alan stared at her, bewildered. Richelle strode forward, grabbing the diary in his hands.
“Alan, if there were a second path, one incredibly dangerous, even with the chance of the worst kind of death, but that could lead us to true freedom if we succeeded…”
“What?”
“…Would you walk that path with me?”
