How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 676: Frozen North 7.5

As the prince's silhouette faded gradually into the throng, a quick flash lit up Lucas's golden eyes—

keen, brilliant, nearly like a hunter's—

then they dimmed softly.

...Did I imagine it?

It was just a fleeting second, yet he was sure about the feeling that hit him.

That repulsive, slimy aura that stuck to the prince right when his hand met Janica's.

A feeling Lucas recognized intimately.

"U-um... Lucas?"

Janica's words yanked him from his reverie.

He spun around right away and, with no delay, softly grasped her hand. His eyes fell to her wrist, his brows furrowing in worry.

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," she answered swiftly.

"...Is that true," he murmured. "Even so—just to be safe."

Before she could object, his second hand came over, tenderly holding her wrist and palm.

A gentle heat radiated from his contact while subtle divine power coursed into her.

Janica sensed her cheeks warming.

He acted this way every time—

so casual, totally oblivious to the closeness his gestures carried.

A quality she occasionally hoped he'd notice.

...No.

Perhaps it was wiser if he stayed unaware.

She shook her head to dispel the useless ideas, then raised her eyes to his.

"That prince," she whispered. "Did you sense anything odd?"

Lucas hesitated.

"Yes... but it's not for you to fret over."

"What do you mean?"

"I believed I detected something wrong," he replied truthfully. "But likely, I got it wrong."

Janica's brow creased a bit.

She was aware something occurred. That odd heat, the vertigo, the gut-level alert that rang out when he grabbed her—

But somehow, the specifics wouldn't solidify in her thoughts.

Whatever happened, that prince spelled trouble.

"...I understand," she murmured gently.

She looked at Lucas, then offered a smile.

To be honest, she felt deeply relieved he'd shown up precisely then.

Even though he was a pesky, brawny fool who tackled most issues with brute strength—

At critical moments, he proved the steadiest ally she could count on.

"Okay... that ought to cover it for the moment."

Lucas withdrew his hands at last, appearing content as he checked Janica’s wrist.

The subtle bruises from the prince’s hold had vanished entirely, and crucially, that nagging, foul vibe he'd noticed before was gone too.

"If anything feels off," he stated evenly, "let me know right away."

Janica twisted her wrist, flexing her fingers open and shut a couple times.

"No need to fret, it all seems normal," she assured him. "Although... back when that prince grabbed me, I sensed something off-putting. Pretty gross, really. But it's likely just my dislike of his touch to begin with."

"Gross...?" Lucas repeated.

"Yes."

"..."

Lucas went quiet, his face growing grave as his stare shifted down a touch, obviously deep in contemplation.

Spotting his expression, Janica couldn't resist.

She grinned and edged closer slightly.

"What's that look for? After shutting me out of nearly all your recent stuff, are you suddenly concerned about me? Fufu. Relax—even if that shady prince attempted anything, I could've dealt with it on my own."

Her playful grin stiffened in a heartbeat.

Because Lucas was gazing directly at her.

Not shy. Not awkward.

Simply earnest.

"What are you saying, Janica?"

"Eh...?"

"Naturally, I'd worry about you," he stated straightforwardly. "That's expected. You're vital to me."

"L-Lucas...?"

"So avoid remarks like that," he went on, his voice steady yet kind. "You're the dearest to me."

Does this fool grasp his words...?

Janica's cheeks flamed.

She felt scolded—and confessed to—in one go.

"...You're truly unfair," she grumbled, averting her eyes while struggling to steady her pounding heart.

...

In the meantime, Prince Alain blended back into the opulent gathering in the vast hall, gliding effortlessly like nothing occurred.

He dodged idle chats, weaving among aristocrats and traders with expert finesse.

...That was too close.

His face soured as Lucas’s piercing stare echoed in his head.

I needed to be more cautious.

He'd anticipated meddling, but not in that form.

Not from one who could dash across the whole room in a flash and shatter his arm without effort.

At minimum, he should've set up a distraction for Lucas.

It was only an instant, but those golden eyes made him feel utterly insignificant.

Powerless.

In usual situations, he'd never endure such disgrace.

Yet his gut warned him plainly—if he'd pressed on, the outcome would've been much graver.

Pulling back was smart.

Even so...

It irked him to ditch such a prime prospect.

Janica Mortelina was perfect.

Her fit, her essence, her promise—she'd serve as a superb host for his queen.

Every aspect matched the criteria nearly flawlessly.

If only for the meddlesome barrier next to her.

That youth... no, that entity.

He'd received alerts already, but witnessing it up close verified the fact.

Thus, the whispers held truth.

Lucas was the Child of Light.

An existence that clashed head-on with his queen’s being.

Alain's fingers tightened gradually as he breathed out sharply.

"...The strategy shifts then."

For the present, he'd pull out.

Evaluate anew.

Steer his focus another way.

No point in haste.

After all, while the Child of Light lived...

Any unprepared action would spell disaster.

Surely, removing dangers fell under his tasks.

But understanding the necessity and possessing the capability were wholly separate.

For now... he missed both strength and assurance.

Tch.

So he'd just pursue another host.

Once my queen arrives, handling that cursed youth will be simple.

The idea calmed him, rebuilding some poise.

Stretching his mana, Alain extended his awareness, threading through the perceptions of the handful of aides he'd brought.

Their visions turned into his, surveying the hall from varied viewpoints.

It required little time.

There—yet another fitting host.

Not quite as ideal as Janica, but serviceable enough.

Of course, as though fate loved to taunt him, a bothersome aura hovered near this one too.

Still, provided it wasn't touched by holy grace, it presented no true problem.

He acted at once.

Having already caught Lucas’s notice, he shunned extra attention, threading through the masses with skilled subtlety, his mana held in strict check.

No needless dangers.

No shocks.

But suddenly—

Thud.

"Ugh—?!"

His sight whirled as his form jerked to a stop, knees buckling while he toppled rearward, slamming onto the sleek ground. A fierce ache raced up his back, his features twisting as the jolt shook his frame.

...Did I strike a barrier?

No.

That barrier felt way too solid.

Too vital.

Scowling, Alain raised his eyes—

And stiffened.

Intense blue eyes bored into him, icy and profound, triggering an unwanted chill along his spine.

Blond locks, angular traits, and a commanding aura that bore down like the earth's full burden.

No way to mistake him.

"...Riley Hell?"

Riley merely regarded him wordlessly for several beats, like scrutinizing a bug underfoot. Then, in a deep tone stripped of feeling, he whispered:

"A mid-boss... exactly. You were meant to appear here too..."

"Huh?"

Before Alain could grasp the statement, Riley reached out and hauled him upright with startling simplicity, his hold secure but measured.

Riley offered no more clarification.

And for the first evening, Alain experienced a frost deeper than Lucas’s look.

This wasn't a risk he could underestimate.

"Thank you..."

"It’s fine," Riley answered offhandedly. "But why the rush?"

Alain faltered briefly, then flashed a faint smile. "It’s somewhat private. Ah, yes, I haven't shared my name. It's—"

"No need."

"Huh?"

"I’d likely forget it regardless," Riley stated flatly. "So skip telling me."

...Is this guy for real?

For an instant, annoyance sparked within Alain.

Getting brushed off so lightly—no, nullified—was an unfamiliar slight lately.

But the emotion faded fast, concealed under a courteous grin.

"Haha, really?" Alain chuckled softly. "Well, I'll take my leave then. Thanks again for the assist—and apologies for the collision."

"It’s fine," Riley said.

Still rattled by Riley’s inscrutable stare, Alain pivoted and started departing, compelling himself to avoid glancing behind.

Every fiber urged him to flee this spot fast.

Then—

"Whatever scheme you're hatching..."

Riley’s words caught up to him.

Alain halted.

"...ensure my beloved stays out of it, got it?"

Gradually, Alain faced back, a query rising to his mouth—

And then—

FOOOOSHHH.

A crushing force crashed over him.

It wasn't mana.

It wasn't murderous aura.

It was something infinitely graver.

His breathing hitched, his body locked up, and in a horrifying instant, it seemed his soul itself had iced over.

"Or I'll drop in on your queen myself," Riley went on serenely.

"Okay?"

Alain glanced up.

The prior blue eyes had vanished.

Replaced by shadowy, abyss-like orbs—boundless, vacant, and total.

A look that drove home one brutal fact.

This wasn't a caution.

It was a vow.

Alain shook, icy sweat trickling down his spine, his throat parched as he managed a dip of his head.

"...Understood."

Only after the force lifted did he comprehend how near he'd been to crumbling.

With no further speech, Alain spun away and vanished amid the masses—

his assurance broken, his mind in turmoil.