Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 162
So that’s how it was.
You loved Edgar Otis, didn’t you?
It wasn’t about amusement or intrigue. He simply loved Edgar with an all-consuming devotion.
Every moment he spent with him, those beautiful, shining, green eyes like new leaves.
And because of that, he felt a maddening sense of betrayal, was shaken by sorrow, and suffered from a deep, directionless sense of loss.
His obsession with Otis wasn’t about mere vengeance. It wasn’t even anger.
He was just desperately clinging to the only trace of Edgar he had left.
Desperate, aching, for such a painfully long time, letting the years pass meaninglessly, not even knowing why he felt this way. Longing and longing for him, over and over.
That’s why he could never bring himself to leave Bertrand, despite how much he loathed it. He wanted to experience his time with Edgar again, even if only by finding a substitute.
Love.
It was love, pure and simple.
He hadn’t recognized it as love because it had ended before he could even understand it.
But it was love.
The door closed. Until he was fully consumed by the white flames, Rose looked only at Edgar’s portrait.
Only now, perhaps, could you finally be with Edgar.
“Snap out of it!”
Alan’s voice snapped Richelle back to reality. She looked up at him, wide-eyed.
“Alan! How did you get in here? Are you all right? Are your hands and feet still intact?”
“Calm down.”
Alan reassured Richelle and glanced around Rose’s room.
“Just as planned, I brought Neil Otis along. He said he would take the kitchen passage to the fourth floor. Apparently, the household head’s room and Rose’s room are connected. They were the rooms the two stayed in when they first came to Bertrand.”
Richelle looked around the simple, unadorned corridor. It felt strangely out of place—it seemed the house had preserved the appearance from when Bertrand still belonged to Sylvester.
This, too, was another remnant of Edgar.
The white flames had already begun to spread into the hallway. Although the fire didn’t affect them directly, with the spatial essence of Rose now being destroyed, there was no telling what might happen next. They rushed down the hall together.
Breathing heavily, Alan continued explaining,
“I split up with Neil Otis and finished the escape preparations! When I went up to the third floor to find you, I noticed the door to the fourth floor was open!”
At the end of the simple corridor was an elaborate door that looked out of place. When they pushed it open, they found the familiar view of the third-floor hallway.
“Then, all of a sudden, white flames began to spread throughout the mansion! Since there was nothing unusual inside the fourth floor, I just kept searching for you, figuring you’d be in Rose’s room!”
As Alan described, the white flames flowed along the hallway like a stream. They simply moved without leaving any marks on the curtains, furniture, or carpets.
Could these flames be feeding on the rose scent that had surrounded the mansion for so long?
The two turned their gaze away from the incomprehensible sight and hurried down the stairs. Richelle clenched her teeth.
“Rose… he’s really gone now, isn’t he?”
“He must be.”
Even though his lifelong enemy had finally met his end, Alan showed little emotion. Only the anticipation of their long-awaited escape seemed to shine through.
Indeed, he hadn’t even looked back at Rose’s final moments.
Richelle glanced at Alan. His bright, sky-blue eyes were fixed firmly forward, his expression clear and pure, focused only on the future and nothing else.
And with that, Richelle thought to herself with relief.
Thank goodness Alan wasn’t the one who ended Rose.
If he had been the one to set Rose’s roses ablaze, if he had burned Rose’s body himself and taken in the sight and scent of his destruction, Alan’s spirit might have lingered in Bertrand for a very long time.
But now, that hypothetical will never come to pass. Rose could no longer bind Alan Otis in any way.
“Look over there!”
Alan raised his hand, pointing. In the hallway, the servants stood silently as the flames licked their bodies, slowly melting them away.
There were no screams, no cries—only a calm acceptance of their end. A long play was finally drawing its curtain closed.
At last, they reached the grand central hall, where the majestic ceiling fresco loomed above them. Richelle thought back to the day she first set foot on the mansion’s marble floors.
Just like then, she was stepping toward a new life. Strangely, she felt no fear—only a slight, rising excitement.
They burst through the front doors, where a single horse waited for them. Richelle’s voice rose in surprise.
“There was a horse here?”
“One, for riding lessons! Have you ever ridden before?”
Of course, she had. In fact, she was quite good at it.
Even so, Richelle let Alan take the reins. The two of them mounted the horse and charged toward the gates.
A cool breeze brushed across their faces as the flames consuming the mansion crept into the gardens. The roses, clad in white flames, released their final fragrance as they bid farewell.
And as the horse’s hooves crossed the threshold of the mansion’s gate—
How could they ever describe that feeling?
Alan pulled the reins, and the horse, picking up speed, didn’t come to a stop until they reached the bottom of the hill.
Without a word, the two turned to look back at the mansion. Wrapped in white flames, Bertrand danced in one final, grand display.
Alan watched, then spoke, almost to himself.
“It looks like a birthday cake.”
“A birthday cake?”
“Today’s my birthday.”
Today should have been the day he came of age under Rose’s control, a day to be led to the marriage market like livestock.
His gaze fixed on the mansion—the brilliant blaze of his long, unending nightmare.
It was finally time to wake up.
The boyhood of Alan Otis was coming to an end.
“Happy birthday, Alan.”
A kind voice broke the silence. It had been so long since anyone had blessed his birth.
Alan looked down at Richelle. Their eyes met, and she gave him a playful smile.
“Aren’t you going to make a wish? It’s tradition, right?”
“Is it? It’s been so long since I’ve celebrated a birthday…”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly but couldn’t help a small, sheepish laugh.
“No thanks. I don’t really feel like wishing on that cake—it feels like Rose might jump out of it any second.”
“Fair enough. Then how about we make sure the first thing we eat outside the mansion is cake? Any kind you’d like?”
“I’m not sure…”
“No problem. We’ll try them all until you find your favorite.”
We have all the time in the world.
Alan turned the horse, and over the green fields, a cloudless blue sky stretched out before them.
“The weather’s perfect.”
Under the clear sky, they galloped forward, strong and free.
—The End.
Marmalade’s final notes:
And, that’s a wrap! My goodness, I’ve never been so captivated by a story like this in a long while. With the mysteries slowly unfolding and the characters gradually shining, it almost feels like I’m looking at a small ember growing ever so surely into a great white flame, all-consuming.
Indeed. Goodbye, Rose Mansion. That was such a good read.
This is the end of the main story, but I won’t be translating the subsequent side stories any time soon. I might change my mind in the future, but in the meantime, anyone willing to take on the side stories is free to do so after my chapters have been fully unlocked. For those who’d like to read the rest on their own, you may do so by finding the original Korean novel at Ridibooks: https://ridibooks.com/books/120070319
Everyone, thank you so much for reading Rose Mansion with me!
