Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 80
Her lips trembled. She couldn’t breathe properly. Cold sweat dripped from her forehead.
Was it really you, Rogéros?
Why?
Was it because of me? Did you do it for me?
Then…
‘Did Mother die because of me?’
Because of me. Because I went to that mansion.
The murderous intent that had been wandering aimlessly finally found its target. Richelle raised her hand. Her fingertips touched her neck. And then.
Slap!
She moved her hand up and slapped her cheek hard.
“Get a grip, Richelle Howard.”
The stinging pain from the slap brought her back to her senses. The murderous intent that didn’t suit her quietly disappeared. Richelle focused on the aching pain in her cheek and stood up.
Now is not the time to lose her mind in unnecessary self-reproach.
She must return to Bertrand immediately.
She needed to confirm if it was truly Rogéros who killed her mother. She had to face the mansion’s secrets head-on and sever them completely from her life. She needed to uncover the truth behind her mother’s death.
So that she would never have to regret it again.
Bertrand still frightened her. The weight of life that constantly pressed down on her was still overwhelming.
But if she ran away again, she would never be able to forgive herself. She would be writhing in self-hatred, regretting the past. Just as she had done countless times before.
She didn’t want to do that anymore.
She didn’t want to hate herself any longer.
***
Richelle boarded the train to Sylvester. She had returned after two weeks.
She had finished everything she needed to do. Anna, with the help of Lady Allison and Robert, would take care of the rest. She believed in the capable girl to handle things well. Richelle leaned against the window and closed her eyes.
The train tracks, once filled with excitement and anxiety, were now filled with heavy determination. But she was more clear-headed than ever. Richelle calmly thought things through.
“Miss, may I have a moment, if that’s alright?”
Richelle was deep in thought about how to delve into Bertrand’s secrets when someone spoke to her from across the way.
She slowly opened her eyes to see an elderly woman with beautifully tied white hair looking at her.
Richelle was a little surprised but soon responded with a kind smile.
“What’s the matter, ma’am?”
“If it’s alright, could you read this letter for me? My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and I can’t see well anymore.”
“Oh, of course. Please give it to me.”
She readily accepted the letter. It was from the woman’s son.
Richelle read the letter slowly and clearly. The elderly woman listened intently, sometimes laughing and sometimes asking her to read certain parts again.
When the reading was finished, the woman’s wrinkled face was filled with joy.
“Thank you so much. Your voice is so calm and soothing. It was lovely to listen to.”
“I’m glad I could help, ma’am.”
“How can I repay you? Do you like sandwiches? I have some homemade sandwiches…”
The woman rummaged through her bag and took out a package. She unwrapped the yellow paper to reveal two thick, delicious-looking sandwiches.
“When you’re going through tough times, you need to eat well.”
With those words, the woman handed the sandwiches to Richelle. Tough times? How did she know?
Richelle widened her eyes, then realized that the woman must have noticed her mourning clothes and deduced she had recently suffered a loss.
“Thank you… I’ll eat it gratefully.”
She carefully bit into the sandwich. It tasted even better than it looked, filled with fresh vegetables and ham. It reminded her of the sandwiches she ate on picnics with her parents when she was young. Richelle lowered her eyes bitterly.
While Richelle ate, the woman chatted about various things. She was on her way to visit her married daughter, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time.
The woman asked, “Where are you going, miss?”
“I’m almost there. I’ll be getting off at Sylvester.”
“Sylvester? It’s a beautiful and bustling place, but not exactly a tourist spot for a young lady. Is it your hometown?”
“No. I’m currently working as a tutor at the Bertrand estate there. I’m returning after my vacation.”
“…Bertrand?”
Richelle’s hand, which was wiping sauce from her mouth with a handkerchief, suddenly stopped. The kind old woman’s face turned pale, as if she had heard something she shouldn’t have.
