How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 544: Tragedy...

”Who are you?”

”...Does it matter, Saintess?”

”You... you’re a demonic worshipper, aren’t you?”

”.......”

”You know the consequences of touching me, right? The heavens themselves—”

”.......”

The masked man didn’t answer.

He rose from the chair slowly, his movements deliberate, his presence pressing down like a weight.

His footsteps echoed faintly against the stone floor as he began closing the distance.

Emilia gasped and shuffled backward, her body stiff with fear.

Clank!

Her heart sank.

She hadn’t noticed it before, but the cold drag at her ankles confirmed it—her feet were chained, shackled firmly into the ground.

The sound of the links rattling echoed through the chamber, cruelly mocking her sudden panic.

The man kept walking, each step unhurried, steady, like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere left to run.

”Don’t—don’t come any closer or I’ll—!” she stammered, her voice shaking.

His right hand moved forward in a sharp motion.

Emilia’s breath hitched, her body tensing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for pain, corruption—anything vile.

But instead—

”Eat...”

Her eyes shot open, confused. ”Hn?”

His gloved hand extended not a weapon, not chains, but an apple. A simple, red apple.

”Eat,” he repeated, voice calm, almost commanding. ”You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Emilia blinked, at a loss. ”Huh? I—I’m not really—”

Grumble~!

Her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly into the silence. Her face turned crimson, her pride cracking under the humiliation.

”Eat,” he said again. ”Don’t worry. It isn’t poisoned.”

Her eyes narrowed. ”H-How can I trust you...?”

”You don’t.” His voice carried no hesitation, no attempt to convince. ”But if you want to see the next light of day... it would be wiser to do as I suggest, for now.”

Emilia froze, lips pressing tight.

Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to resist.

But the divine judgment she had always leaned on... was gone.

Without her holy power, she couldn’t pierce the veil, couldn’t sense the truth of his soul.

All she had was the mask before her—faceless, unreadable, inhuman.

And yet... that was the strangest part.

Even though everything about him radiated danger, even though he was clearly one of the demonic cult, even though logic screamed this was a trap—

—something about him felt... different.

Hesitantly, Emilia reached out with trembling hands and accepted the apple.

Its weight felt strange in her palms, almost mocking her helplessness.

She raised it slowly, hesitating, then took a small bite.

Her eyes widened.

Sweet. So sweet it almost startled her.

Before she even realized it, she was already taking another bite, and then another.

Her hunger, suppressed until now, clawed its way out of her pride.

Each mouthful disappeared faster than the last.

Was she really that hungry?

”Eat slowly...” The masked man’s tone carried a faint, almost gentle warning. ”You’ve been unconscious for two days. It would be bad for your stomach if you rush.”

The apple almost slipped from her grasp. ”T-Two days...?” Emilia’s mind reeled. Her heart raced in panic. ”M-My friends... they’re still—Stacia—!”

”It’s good that you’re slowly remembering,” he said flatly, almost as if pleased.

”Then let go of me!”

”I can’t do that...”

He knelt down, lowering himself to meet her at eye level.

His masked face loomed closer.

Slowly—deliberately—his hand moved, brushing against the side of her ear, tucking a loose strand of her ebony hair back into place.

”After all...” His voice dipped, soft but heavy. ”...you’re an important piece in my plans, oh dear Saintess.”

Her whole body stiffened.

His hand trailed down—grazing her cheek, sliding lower, lingering dangerously near her lips.

A violent shiver ran through her, her breath hitching.

Fear welled in her chest like a drowning tide.

”Y-You think you can get away with this...?” Emilia’s voice quivered, but she forced the words out, clinging to her faith like a lifeline. ”Even if my divinity is sealed... I am still the goddess’s daughter. Touching me like this... you will draw down her wrath and judgment!”

The masked man froze for a moment, his hand halting mid-motion.

Then, with a slow exhale, he withdrew, pulling back as if dismissing her threat.

”It seems you’ve misunderstood me, Saintess.” His voice shifted, colder now, stripped of the feigned softness from before. ”I didn’t bring you here for some fleeting lust or shallow indulgence. That would be far too... wasteful.”

He turned his back to her, his cloak shifting with the movement.

His gaze lifted toward the distance where, in the endless dark of the chamber, a faint reddish-orange light flickered—like fire smoldering at the end of a cavern.

”Of course, defiling you could be... amusing, a small bonus to enjoy along the way. But breaking you too soon, before the grand ritual... would ruin everything.”

His voice echoed faintly through the chamber, lingering in the cold air.

Emilia’s throat tightened.

The apple in her hand suddenly tasted bitter.

.......

Okay...

This level of acting should be enough, right?

I turned my head, just enough to glance at Emilia.

Her eyes trembled, confusion and fear swimming in them. She looked so fragile, so unsteady, and yet—so stubbornly defiant.

I let out a small breath through the mask.

In truth, I was basically just roleplaying, recycling the lines I remembered from the demonic worshipper priest in the game.

Adjusting here and there, throwing in some flair so it wouldn’t sound stiff.

I just hoped I didn’t overdo it... didn’t make it sound too fake.

But—honestly? Surprisingly, it was fun.

Taking on this villain’s mask, weaving threats and half-truths—it was far more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

Maybe it was because Emilia herself was so much fun to tease.

The way she bit back with faith and pride, even while trembling... it made the role easier to slip into, almost natural.

Still... a part of me felt guilty.

She wasn’t some nameless NPC, she was one of the main characters of this arc.

A girl carrying more weight on her shoulders than she realized.

But that was exactly why I couldn’t go easy on her.

She needed this.

Because I won’t always be there.

If something unexpected happens... if fate itself turns against her... then she needs to stand without me.

I learned that the hard way.

That night at the ball—when Erebil suddenly appeared.

Even now, thinking back on it, my chest tightened.

That suffocating pressure.

That reminder that no matter how high I thought I’d climbed, the peak I stood on was nothing but a small ledge below the true summit.

Two last bosses. Both inevitable. Both waiting. And time was already running short.

A single semester left before the first descends into the academy... and only another after that before the world itself will tremble under a true, world-ending threat.

There’s only so much leniency I can afford to give the main characters now.

Without my interference they’re progressing, sure, but at this pace... it won’t be enough.

Liyana still confuses me. She’s an anomaly—a variable I can’t quite pin down.

And yet, buried in the mess of her existence, I can faintly see a path.

One where she and I don’t collide the way fate always seemed to demand.

After all, in that broken world... wasn’t it possible?

Didn’t I see it myself?

But Erebil...

No, she was different.

A constant reminder.

A shadow at the edge of every thought.

If we keep moving like this—if the world doesn’t accelerate beyond its limit—then sooner or later...

Erebil will devour everything.

Swallowing the world in endless Evil and Darkness.

That’s why I need all of the main characters to grow right now.

It’s a rush, maybe too much of one, but there’s no other choice.

By the time this is all over, I’ll make sure each of them has reached at least Alice’s current level.

Otherwise... the world won’t hold.

”Where are you going?”

Emilia’s voice carried from behind me as I turned away.

My footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, slow and steady.

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I pushed open the heavy dark door.

Her sharp intake of breath told me she saw it too.

Beyond the doorway stretched utter blackness—an infinite void swallowing sight and sound—save for one faint light flickering in the distance, like a star hanging in endless night.

I stepped through without a word, and the door shut behind me with a hollow thud.

Emilia was bound by a mana-restraining chain, her movements sealed.

On top of that, I had used [Divine Will] with [Divine Absorption] to drain her divinity to near nothing.

She’d recover it soon enough, but until then, she was helpless.

And that was the point

If she keeps leaning on others, clinging to their protection, she’ll never become the Emilia I knew—the one who stood proud in the game, shining in her own right.

Right now, she’s weak, afraid, still too soft.

That won’t save her in the storms to come.

Yes... I’m rushing her growth.

Forcing her into corners she’s not ready for.

But if it’s Emilia, then she can endure it.

She has to.

If Stacia was able to break through her limits, then the other heroines can as well.

They don’t have the luxury of stagnation.

Right now, we were deep underground, far beneath the dungeon’s lowest layers.

The very floor where I had crushed [Drakuth,] the dungeon boss.

Despite what I told Emilia about being unconscious for two days, it had only been a little over two hours since Lavine kidnapped them and dragged them here.

The chamber itself was wide, cavernous, broken into several sections.

Three small houses stood in separate corners, their faint silhouettes glowing with runic seals.

Inside, Emilia’s companions—her fellow heroines—still slept, trapped in their own chains, still caught in the same ordeal.

They’d wake soon.

I plan on giving them the same treatment I gave Emilia, though slightly more eventful.

But... I just hope Reina and Vanessa won’t catch on, when they see me...

Emilia was easy to fool—only because I stripped her of her divinity beforehand.

Without it, her judgment dulled, her instincts dulled... and she was always a little too trusting to begin with.

Gullible enough to let the act carry her.

Reina, though... she’s my sister.

She’ll notice the cracks, the tiny mismatched details almost immediately.

I’ll need to thread my words perfectly, or she’ll see through everything.

And Vanessa... elves were always sharp.

Their minds trained to notice the smallest inconsistencies, and Vanessa especially had honed hers.

I can’t underestimate her even for a second.

Flamme was different.

Not as meticulous as the other two.

But unpredictable—dangerously so.

If she acts outside the script I lay down, everything could spiral fast.

I let out a breath, shifting my gaze toward the faint light in the distance.

It shimmered faintly, carrying the trace of burning mana.

So... Stacia still hasn’t broken through the Clown’s domain.

With her newly acquired skill, [Mana Burn], she should have been able to incinerate the very essence of that story.

To unravel the illusions and melt them to ash.

And yet she was still trapped.

I guess... the story written for her this time is far harder.

Well, it doesn’t matter.

If she’s the Stacia I know, she won’t let illusions hold her forever.

She’ll burn everything—herself, the world, the path in front of her—until nothing stands in her way.

...

”Mother!”

The sudden voice echoed with pure, innocent warmth.

A young boy slammed into Stacia’s stomach, hugging her tightly as he laughed with unrestrained joy.

”You’re awake! Come on, Mother! Let’s go play!”

Stacia smiled. Her hand gently patted his head, fingers brushing through his hair with practiced tenderness.

”Yes, yes... Mommy will come play with you later, after I dress up, alright?”

”Okay! Then I’ll wake up Stella and Yuno—and Ryan and Roxanne too!”

”Just make sure you don’t charge at them this time,” Stacia reminded, her tone half-playful, half-stern.

But the boy was already gone, bolting out of the room with reckless energy, his little footsteps fading like thunder.

Stacia chuckled softly, shaking her head as warmth spread across her face.

Seeing her son’s unyielding energy—it always made her smile.

This was her 377th time reliving this same moment.

The same touch.

The same smile.

And the same laughter.

And not once had she grown tired of it.

Not once.