Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 63
“Young Master Otis…?”
Richelle called out to Alan Otis in a somewhat dazed voice. The tension that had been as sharp as each strand of her hair standing on end shattered with the young man’s arrival. ‘It’, too, diverted its gaze from the marmalade and crouched defensively.
However, the young man who had burst in unexpectedly remained shockingly stoic despite everyone’s attention. He simply rolled his clear, sky-blue eyes to survey Richelle’s resolute face, the twins clinging behind her, and the ‘thing’ that they were confronting.
His gaze finally rested on the golden marmalade jar in Richelle’s hand. Alan’s furrowed brow deepened.
“Haah…”
Alan Otis let out an annoyed sigh. Richelle instinctively shrugged her shoulders, feeling as though she had made a grave mistake.
No, she had indeed made a mistake…
It was when she was sinking into a sense of self-reproach that Alan suddenly stepped forward briskly.
“Hand it over.”
There was no time to ask what he meant. He swiftly snatched the marmalade jar from her hand.
“Ah! That—”
“Go back to your room.”
Alan turned his back to Richelle. The frail-looking young man’s back was unexpectedly broad, shielding her from ‘it’ that had frightened her, now out of sight behind him.
Richelle clenched her fists. She knew this was the perfect chance to escape now that Alan had intervened. But to use a boy not yet of age as a shield…
“Young Master Otis, please give back the jar. It’s too dangerous…”
It was then.
Grrrrrr—
It sounded like a monster stretching in hell, or perhaps an angry god sending down a calamity to earth. An ominous noise emanated from ‘it’, resonating through its entire form.
The little color that was in Alan Otis’s pale face drained completely.
“Go.”
“Young Master Otis!”
“Leave! Now!”
Alan swung his arm, pushing Richelle roughly. Behind her, the twins whimpered. Teacher, Teacher. I don’t want to be eaten. Teacher…
Finally, the children’s crying spurred Richelle into action. She wrapped her arms around the twins and turned to run.
Running felt like stepping sharply on the point of a needle. A massive boulder seemed lodged in her chest. The precarious young man’s back flickered before her eyes.
Richelle couldn’t bring herself to look up.
***
After ushering the children into their room, she went to look for Rogéros, who was not at his post.
She went back downstairs. Alan Otis was nowhere to be seen, nor was ‘it’—something she wouldn’t want to encounter even in dreams. The hallway was as if nothing had happened.
‘Had Rogéros taken Young Master Otis away?’
Was he safe or not?
Richelle returned to her room, her mind in turmoil. The twins clung tightly to a plush cushion, burying their faces in it.
“I don’t want to be eaten. I don’t want to be eaten.”
“I don’t want to be eaten…”
Their tiny backs trembled pitifully. Richelle approached the twins and gently stroked their heads.
“Penny, Nero.”
“Teacher…”
The children threw the cushion aside and clung to Richelle. She silently patted their backs.
Fortunately, the children calmed down quickly. They gingerly peeked up while Richelle took each of their small, plump hands into hers and made a stern face.
“Can you tell me how you got into my room?”
“Well, that…”
The twins fidgeted with the hands Richelle held, then reluctantly confessed with the expression of swallowing bitter medicine.
“Teacher’s dress room used to be the kids’ room.”
“There’s still a door there.”
“It’s your room now, though.”
“Since it was originally our room, we can enter the dress room.”
In summary, the dress room seemed to be a loophole in the rules.
Originally part of the children’s room, its ownership wasn’t clearly defined, allowing both Richelle and the twins to access this ambiguous shared space.
Richelle felt relieved that the full story of the incident had been unraveled. The issue was just the dress room, while her bedroom remained a safe zone.
Nevertheless, sneaking in and stealing were actions that deserved scolding. Richelle sat the twins down and gently reprimanded them.
After crying out their wrongdoing, the children lay face down on a cushion tomb and fell asleep. Richelle sat next to the twins and looked out the window.
—I don’t want to be eaten!
She recalled the phrase the children kept repeating after encountering ‘it’. The terror on their faces at that moment wasn’t just a rejection of seeing something grotesque. The children clearly knew what ‘it’ was.
It made her wonder where they learned such a fear of being eaten, especially since there was nothing relevant in the children’s room fairy tales.
‘They must have encountered it several times already.’
That’s why the fear of being eaten had taken such a strong hold on them.
Richelle’s expression crumpled. Until now, she had only worried about the children becoming strange due to the mansion’s influence, concerned only about the emotional abuse being continuously inflicted.
The real problem was elsewhere.
These young children were continuously exposed to threats to their lives…
It was no longer time to worry whether she should intervene in the Otis family matters. Somehow, she must get the twins out of the mansion to a safe place.
‘And if possible.’
If possible, Alan Otis as well.
Suddenly, rain began to pour outside the window. Richelle pictured the pale face that had told her not to interfere, that young man with the scent of antiseptic following him everywhere.
It seemed necessary to have a conversation with Alan Otis.
