How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

170 President 3

”What exactly are you planning Riley?”

So, it really did grab her attention, huh… Since Snow like control more than anything sheʼs probably slightly pissed off right now, hence the teasing she did a few moments ago….

Considering the absurdity of the situation, it made sense why Snow would try to get information out of me. After all, it was my decision to interfere so suddenly.

Honestly, I thought Dorothy would be the one to make the first move, to establish some kind of contact.

Getting Claraʼs support wasnʼt something she wouldʼve been aware of right away.

But it seems Clara did her job well, keeping my involvement hidden.

Whether she did it out of goodwill or for her own reasons doesnʼt really matter.

The important thing is that she kept my name out of it, and that gave me more room to maneuver.

The problem now, though, is the chaos itʼs causing for Snow and Rose—the top contenders for the election. Dorothy is now in the mix and, depending on how things unfold, any one of them could win.

Once Rose realizes I had a hand in this, sheʼll probably be mad at me.

But this isnʼt just about the election—itʼs about Dorothy, too.

Helping her was part of a larger experiment Iʼve been working on, one involving the fates of the people in this academy.

Dorothy, in particular, was a character doomed to fall into ruin in the game.

She had all the makings of a tragic figure, someone who would either get consumed by her ambitions or crushed by the weight of her circumstances.

But I wanted to see if I could change that.

Could I provide her a different path? A light to pull her out of the darkness that was her fate?

Whether Dorothy takes that light and steps away from her inevitable doom is up to her. But for now, Iʼve shifted the balance.

And in the process, Iʼve disrupted Snow and Roseʼs well-laid plans.

Rose will likely see it as a form of betrayal… but considering her personality right now I donʼt think sheʼll mind actually losing…. I hope at least.

This was all part of the test.

Would Dorothy follow her predetermined path and fall, or would she rise and claim her place, defying her fate?

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the warmth of the teacup seep into my fingers.

I took a moment to absorb the situation, the quiet tension between Snow and me hanging in the air.

I could understand why she was worried—losing Clara, one of her most valuable assets, was a significant blow.

But in the first place, Snowʼs worry was needless.

Clara was never someone who could be tamed.

She might have seemed like a snake under control, but she was always ready to strike if it meant profit or benefits.

Even a princess like Snow couldnʼt fully manage her, despite the contract theyʼd established.

Clara shifting her allegiance to Dorothy wasnʼt as much of a threat as Snow seemed to think, at least not if Snow was confident she could still win.

”Does it really matter what Iʼm planning right now?” I asked, turning back to Snow after taking another sip of tea.

Sure, chaos might have erupted from my one action, but this was politics—chaos was inevitable. I just took a more direct route than most would dare. Knowing Snow, she likely had backup plans in place.

Clara was just one of her assets, and losing her wouldnʼt cripple Snowʼs chances. But it would definitely shake things up.

Snowʼs eyes narrowed slightly, clearly trying to gauge my intentions.

She was smart—probably already calculating her next move, assessing the damage, and figuring out how to spin this in her favor.

”Youʼre playing a dangerous game,” Snow finally said, her voice soft but edged with warning.

”I know,” I replied, my tone calm, almost indifferent. ”But then again, so are you.”

She smiled at that, a small, knowing smile that didnʼt reach her eyes.

”I know my actions may seem strange, but trust me, I am not your enemy,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm and reassuring. But I could see the skepticism in Snowʼs eyes as if what I said was so obvious it wasnʼt even worth addressing.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression cool and composed. ”Trust me, Iʼve never once considered you an enemy, Riley. But those flocking around you? Thatʼs another matter entirely.”

”Flocking?”

Snow waved a hand dismissively, clearly deciding not to elaborate.

”Nothing. Letʼs get back on topic. Can you at least tell me why youʼre doing all this? I donʼt recall you being close to the ex-president, and frankly, I donʼt see any reason for you to help her either.”

Her eyes narrowed, the sharpness of her gaze probing for answers.

Even if she asked, my reasons werenʼt some grand revelations.

The truth was simple, though I couldnʼt reveal everything.

But my core reason? That fact never changed and it was something I wasnʼt really afraid to share.

”I want to save her” I said, meeting Snowʼs gaze directly.

”Save her?” Snow repeated, her voice tinged with suspicion. ”Hmm…”

Her expression shifted, concern mixing with curiosity as if she was trying to piece together a puzzle. ”Why donʼt you tell me all the details?” she pressed, her tone almost coaxing.

That day I couldnʼt leave her office until the sun took rest….

…..

In the bustling streets of the academy, there was a particular road where the transactions of goods and merchandise passed through—Luminaria Road, formerly known as the Gold Road of the academy.

Located on the far eastern side of the academy, this road was a critical artery for commerce.

At its heart was a massive bridge where trade and business thrived, a vital lifeline for the academy: the Gatefall Bridge.

This bridge was not just a mere crossing but a bustling hub where merchants and business owners converged, their carriages and goods moving incessantly across its expanse.

It was a place where the academyʼs very survival depended on the constant flow of resources, where the necessities for student life, research, and the academyʼs operation were exchanged.

The air buzzed with the sounds of haggling merchants, the creak of wooden carts, and the chatter of students and traders alike.

As I stood on an open balcony overlooking the busy streets below, I took a sip of warm, freshly brewed coffee. Clara, ever the shrewd businesswoman, stood beside me, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she gazed down at the scene.

”Looking at the faces of those happy merchants, donʼt you think monopoly truly is the best thing?” Clara asked, her tone laced with a mix of pride and amusement.

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. ”I think youʼre the only one who feels that way.”

She feigned a hurt expression, though the glint in her eyes remained. ”What? Isnʼt that a bit mean of you? Look, my merchants are happily getting their coins, right?”

Her merchants, those who had managed to secure a position within her vast network, were indeed reaping the benefits.

Their smiles and cheerful banter were evidence of their prosperity.

But for the countless other merchants and business owners passing through the bridge, their expressions told a different story—a story of struggle and resignation.

For these traders, the monopoly that Clara had established was a double-edged sword.

While it brought stability and order, it also crushed competition and stifled opportunities.

The faces of those outside her influence could only scream one thing: sadness.

They were forced to navigate the narrow margins left to them, overshadowed by the overwhelming presence of Claraʼs empire.

As we watched the ebb and flow of the market below, I couldnʼt help but ponder the dynamics at play.

Claraʼs control over the academyʼs commerce was nearly absolute, her influence extending far beyond what most could comprehend.

She had a knack for bending the market to her will, ensuring that every transaction, every deal, somehow funneled back to her.

”Just how much are you making them pay?” I asked, watching the intense negotiations taking place at the gates of the bridge.

The traffic was nearly at a standstill, and it was clear that these werenʼt just casual conversations.

The merchants were locked in deep discussions with Claraʼs subordinates, their faces a mix of frustration and determination.

Owning this bridge meant that Clara could impose fees, but from the heated exchanges below, it seemed like these werenʼt just simple, flat charges.

”It depends,” Clara replied nonchalantly, as if the intricacies of her operation were as simple as flipping a coin.

”We take into account the taxes they have to pay to the academy separately, of course. But what we mostly do is take a percentage of their goods and services.”

I glanced at her, surprised. ”So, youʼre not making them pay a fixed cost?”

She shook her head with a small, knowing smile.