Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 8
The innkeeper himself led Richelle to the best room, then brought her a glass of fragrant wine and a grilled duck b****t with the inn’s signature Vigard sauce.
Despite feeling so exhausted and tense that she had no appetite and wished she could just collapse, Richelle couldn’t ignore the expectant face of the innkeeper. She managed to send back an empty plate, by which time her stomach felt nearly ready to burst.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, indigestion was an old friend of Richelle’s. After swallowing some digestive medicine she always carried and walking around the room for a bit, she felt somewhat better. Only then did Richelle sit down on the thick carpet.
The room, adorned with plush reds and gilded decorations, had sofas and armchairs scattered all around, but she couldn’t bring herself to relax on any of them. Even the room, warmed pleasantly, or the wide bed with its silk linens, felt awkward.
The sound of fierce wind whipping outside the window reached her. Richelle kept rubbing her cold palms together.
‘Tomorrow, my life will be completely different.’
In a strange place, with no one I know…
Her heart started to race. At some point, Richelle had become extremely fearful of facing the unknown. It seemed she once found new adventures exciting, but at some point, she turned into a coward.
But… just one time is enough for a breakdown.
Sparks crackled from the fireplace. That was the only comfort for Richelle. The flames in a fireplace were always the same, no matter where or when.
Hugging her knees, Richelle buried her face in them. It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. She muttered as if casting a spell, or perhaps making a wish.
Everything at the Bertrand Mansion would be unfamiliar to her, especially the Otis family. However, Madam Otis likely wouldn’t be much different from the noblewomen she had met before. After all, parents tend to behave similarly when it came to their children…
Dealing with children shouldn’t be too difficult. Most children have clear desires. Given her successful experience as a teaching assistant, particularly with young children, she was confident she would manage well.
Only after imagining every possible scenario, from the best to the worst, did Richelle finally calm down. She closed her eyes softly.
Yes, everything will be fine. I’m confident in my ability to endure…
This reassured state of mind lasted until the next morning.
After a good night’s sleep, Richelle felt better. She quickly ate two biscuits and drank a few sips of water before packing her bags and leaving the inn.
Then, after a brief exploration of downtown Sylvester, she headed to the rental carriage station around one in the afternoon. Leaving at this time would ensure her arrival at a suitable time to be received as a guest.
Finding a carriage to take her to the Bertrand mansion was surprisingly easy. As soon as she mentioned her destination, all the coachmen present eagerly volunteered.
“Please, this way, Miss. Our carriage is the sturdiest and most comfortable in the vicinity. We’ll ensure a fast and safe journey to Bertrand.”
“Thank you.”
“Here, get in, get in!”
Richelle’s spirits lifted slightly as everything proceeded without any issues. However, as the carriage moved further away from the downtown area where the station was, her heart began to beat erratically again.
Maybe she had made the worst decision of her life.
Perhaps it would have been better to go back to her mother and apologize immediately. It would have been over if she had just endured it one more time. Freedom? How could she make such an impulsive decision over such a vague desire and longing…
Her hands, previously cold, were now clammy with sweat. Suddenly, the carriage jolted, startling Richelle. She looked up to find that the previously moving scenery outside the window had come to a halt.
‘Have we arrived?’
But instead of a grand mansion, all that was visible were barren trees lifting their skeletal branches against the sky. Richelle tapped on the window leading to the coachman’s seat.
“Excuse me, what’s happened?”
“Oh, no! It’s just that we’re about to enter the Black Forest.”
The coachman’s casual reply did little to reassure her. The Black Forest?
But why would there be a need to stop the carriage just because they were about to enter a forest?
Richelle peered out the small window to the coachman with a sense of unease. She saw the old man holding a crucifix, seemingly offering prayers.
‘What is he praying for?’
Curious to hear more clearly, she pressed her ear against the window. Suddenly, Richelle nearly fell off her seat. The coachman turned around abruptly, making direct eye contact with her.
