Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 160
The tea table was prepared swiftly. Rose, seated with perfect grace as he poured the tea, spoke with a seemingly cheerful tone.
“It’s the first time Richelle has ever proposed a tea time.”
He handed her a teacup, the familiar, delicate rose scent blooming as vibrantly as a fresh flower.
Richelle offered him a faint smile of thanks but didn’t touch the cup. Rose rubbed his forehead with a slight smile.
“I’ve served you tea many times, but once again, you’re not drinking it.”
He looked visibly fatigued—likely still unsettled from the disturbance to his very essence.
‘How long will he remain in that state?’
Could she hold his attention long enough, until Neil Otis dealt with Rose’s roses?
Under the table, Richelle clenched her trembling hands together. Though her palms were damp, she maintained a steady, indifferent expression.
She had to convey only a hint of caution and unease, never suspicion. If she showed even the slightest sign, he would catch on instantly.
Rose set his teacup aside and propped his chin on his hand.
“It seems you’re not interested in casual conversation over tea, so let’s get straight to the point. Your answer?”
Richelle gazed calmly at the powerful figure seated before her. Just as he was about to urge her again, she finally spoke.
“When I was a child… I used to imagine what I would do if a fairy appeared and granted me a wish. I read so many stories like that.”
“Humans tend to romanticize the idea of wish-granters.”
“Yes, regardless of age. Strangely, the harsher reality becomes, the more we crave unexpected fortune, even though we’ve long forgotten those fairy tales.”
Richelle reached out, tracing the butterfly pattern on the delicate red teacup in front of her—an undoubtedly priceless cup, far beyond her means.
“I used to have so many wishes. I wanted to go back to when my father was alive, to reconcile with my mother. I yearned for a prosperous life and occasionally envied those who had what I lacked. And at some point, I started wishing desperately for freedom and happiness.”
“You can have it.”
Rose whispered ever so softly.
“If you stay by my side.”
“No, Rose.”
Richelle removed her hand from the teacup. She straightened her posture and met his gaze.
“I understand now. Freedom, happiness, and even the smallest wishes only hold meaning if I achieve them through my own strength.”
“……”
“In the past, I huddled, waiting for a miracle. But even if a miracle comes, my life won’t change unless I do.”
Rose’s expression grew rigid, while Richelle’s smile deepened.
“You once told me it’s natural for humans to avoid conflict and seek to minimize harm to themselves—that it’s okay to run away. That was a great comfort to me, Rose.”
“Richelle—”
“You’re right. Not everyone can be a hero. I’m just an ordinary person, so I’ll likely continue to avoid things, to run away at times. But I won’t hate myself for it anymore. Instead of blaming myself, I’ll rise again and gather the strength to face it.”
Clasping her hands together, Richelle spoke as if addressing herself as much as Rose.
“Sometimes I’ll run, sometimes I’ll stand my ground, but I’ll keep striving to love myself. Through my own efforts, I’ll claim freedom and happiness. I have confidence in that now.”
Rose’s expression betrayed utter incomprehension as he pressed a hand to his forehead.
“So… you’re saying you won’t make a wish? That’s… unexpected…”
“Rose, may I ask you something?”
His crimson eyes, filled with confusion, looked back at her. Richelle asked him calmly.
“What is your wish?”
“What…?”
“Whether I choose Alan’s freedom or my own, there’s no true advantage for you. If Alan is freed, you’ll again find someone who I’d be willing to abandon my safety for. Yet if I am freed, you’ll lose the person you desire, bound to prolong your weary connection to Bertrand.”
“……”
“You said I could be the ‘perfect’ Edgar Otis. What do you mean by perfect? What do you really want by shaping me into Edgar Otis? What is it you’re hoping to see?”
“I… I…”
“If it’s truly just for enjoyment and curiosity, you wouldn’t be so shaken by an unexpected answer. Rose, tell me what you really feel.”
A hint of genuine emotion—a ‘human-like’ expression—appeared on Rose’s face.
In that moment, Rose abruptly lifted his head. His bewildered eyes darted around, finally fixing on something.
His face contorted slowly.
“You…”
In a rare lapse of elegance, Rose shot to his feet, shoving the chair backward with a force that toppled it over.
Panting heavily, Rose gripped Richelle’s shoulders roughly.
< What have you done?! >
