How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 697: Frozen Trials 9
Previously on How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game...
Celestine Laffele.
A lovely young girl residing in a northern continental village.
The settlement proved quite expansive—far bigger than one might anticipate for a spot snowbound for half the year.
Sturdy wooden homes withstood the gales, their roofs layered heavily in ice, while chimneys puffed slender wisps of smoke nonstop.
Existence in this place demanded grit.
Yet the inhabitants endured.
Hardy. Unyielding. Accustomed to trials.
Still, they grinned frequently.
Perhaps in such a chilling realm where frost lingers eternally, human bonds provide essential comfort.
"...Yet again, I inhabit someone else's existence..."
Snow whispered softly to herself.
She perched beside the window in her current chamber, an orderly magic tome laid out on the table ahead.
One tiny palm propped her face as she gazed outward, her look remote.
Frost rimmed the windowpane's edges lightly, yet visibility remained clear.
Kids roughly her age frolicked amid the snowdrifts.
Chuckling.
Dashing about.
"Hey! Stop aiming only at me!"
"Bleeh! You're the monster this time, so you must get taken down!"
"That's not fair! Weren't you meant to act as the knight?!"
A slender lad positioned himself centrally in the yard, attempting to defend against the assault.
He appeared a bit smaller than his peers.
Not greatly—but sufficiently to draw notice.
"Haha! Now I'm the mage, so eat this, Demon King!"
"Me as well—take that!"
Snowballs soared swiftly through the sky.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Every one struck the identical boy.
He staggered rearward, cheeks flushed—not due to the chill.
Due to humiliation.
Snow observed in silence.
It stood evident.
This went beyond mere play.
It constituted harassment.
"Kids..." she breathed out with a soft exhale.
Weary.
Her eyes flicked back to the magic volume on her table.
The page borders showed thinning from repeated handling.
A couple of tips folded over.
Ink in various illustrations had dulled a touch from frequent finger tracings.
She had pored over this identical tome countless times, nearly memorizing every line.
But such familiarity came as no shock.
It served as a basic primer on magic.
The sort distributed to youngsters mastering mana flow, output regulation, and elemental shaping.
Even within the imperial palace of old, this framework—core principles, mana pathways, elemental leanings—ranked as standard fare.
Nothing remarkable marked it.
And that very ordinariness irked her.
Three months had passed since she started embodying Celestine.
Three complete months within this reality.
During which she gleaned several key insights.
Primarily—this ordeal felt authentic.
Much like the prior challenge, the environment avoided vague fantasies.
This represented the actual realm.
Or at least a juncture in its chronology.
In her former existence, she spared little thought for northern regions, yet as royalty, she recognized such hamlets persisted.
Isolated, severe, and frequently overlooked.
The icy north sprawled immensely.
And mercilessly.
Secondly—she wielded magic without restraint here.
With greater liberty than anticipated.
She raised her diminutive hand a tad, sensing mana coursing through her bloodstream.
Fluid.
Reactive. Nearly anticipatory.
Though this form lacked the sheer dominance of her prior self, its knack for ice sorcery bordered on... uncanny.
It surpassed mere aptitude.
It resembled innate drive.
The manner in which mana heeded her whims, the chill amassing at her digits sans opposition—it eerily echoed her youthful days, save for...
Enhanced.
Purer.
More polished.
It disturbed her deeply.
Could this reflect her potential under altered circumstances?
Or merely the Frost Queen's lingering touch?
Thirdly—
She shut the tome deliberately.
The locals despised them.
Her.
And her mom.
For motives so trivial they bordered on absurd.
They possessed excessive allure.
Excessive poise.
Excessive might.
Excessive otherness.
Murmurs trailed them through the bazaar.
Chats halted upon their passage.
Youngsters received hushed cautions against nearing.
"I suppose to ordinary folk... Mom and I come across as real frights."
She propped her chin on her hand once more, peering at the frost-blanketed lanes beyond.
"I wonder whether everyday people regard nobility and royals in this light..."
She suspected neither she nor her mother held noble rank. No manor. No attendants. No overt rank.
Yet charm and strength sufficed to foster separation.
Sufficed to breed dread.
And dread, if permitted to fester unchecked—
Transformed into animosity.
Beyond, the scrawny youth had at last broken free from the pack.
He dusted flakes from his garments silently as the rest shifted to fresh amusements, acting as if prior events never occurred.
Snow's stare rested on him briefly.
"I suppose... the mighty and the frail share more similarities than not..."
Snow uttered under her breath.
Be they mighty or meek, folks invariably repeated the pattern.
They shunned the unfamiliar.
They dreaded the atypical.
And dread proved simpler to warp into malice than to embrace.
Afar, the youngsters slowly resumed their boisterous pursuits.
Giggles.
Arguments.
Boots grinding snow underfoot.
Then abruptly—
The play ceased.
"H-Hey... over there!"
"It's the witch."
"We've strayed too near her home..."
"Mom's gonna chew me out over this."
"I reckon we ought to leave."
"Right. Let's head out."
Their prior boldness evaporated in a flash.
They started retreating, eyes averted from the figure advancing from their rear.
Snow traced their stares.
A lady progressed leisurely down the frosty trail toward the dwelling right after the kids' spot.
Celestine's abode.
Her mom.
From afar, she inspired no alarm.
She advanced serenely, her lengthy coat sweeping the pale terrain.
Yet a faint quality marked her stride.
It seemed as though she bypassed touching the snow.
Rather, she floated above it.
The flakes failed to yield under her soles.
They failed to compress.
The frost appeared to yield to her presence.
To young ones, that sufficed to ignite terror.
The cluster commenced withdrawing, little hands quivering faintly.
All save one.
"Hah! Why fear that bunch? She's merely a frail witch!"
The bold shout shattered the hush.
Snow identified him at once.
Erik.
The very lad who had lobbed the largest clumps at the slim child before.
"Shh! Erik, what gives? She'll catch that!" a kid hissed in haste.
Erik snorted dismissively.
"You all are utter scaredy-cats. Dad says a guy can't cower from witches if he aims to toughen up. And I bet she's no witch anyhow! Just ill or whatever. Mom claims so!"
"Still, she might prove hazardous—"
"Tsk! Tsk!" Erik dismissed them. "Observe. I'll prove she's nothing to me. A budding knight fears no soul!"
Snow sensed her digits clench faintly on the sill.
Bluster.
Foolishness.
The deadliest blend.
Erik crouched swiftly, gathering a hefty scoop of flakes.
He compressed it firmly, rendering it denser than previous tosses.
Then, sans pause—
He flung it directly at the lady.
The lump sliced the breeze.
For an instant, silence reigned.
Overly silent.
The remaining youngsters inhaled sharply.
Snow's gaze intensified.
The lump hurtled toward her mom's visage—
However.
The projectile failed to approach within a meter.
It abruptly dispersed into pale vapor.
"W-What?"
Erik's shock showed in his bulging eyes, matching the others' reactions.
As the lady pivoted to regard them.
They quaked in terror at her ashen gaze.
"R-RUN!!!"
A child yelled.
"She's a witch!"
The lump never neared her.
A delicate frost barrier materialized before the lady's features, untouched by her gestures.
The flakes crumbled gently upon it, fragmenting into innocuous dust that drifted downward.
The youngsters stiffened.
For a fleeting half-second, breaths halted.
Then—
They fled.
Every last one.
Erik included.
The "budding knight" avoided glancing back while bolting after the group, soles skidding on the flakes in frenzy.
The lady simply cocked her head mildly, puzzled by the abrupt uproar.
"...?"
She observed six tiny shapes vanish along the route.
After a beat, she merely gave a light headshake and pressed onward.
"I’m back," she announced tenderly upon entering the home.
"Welcome back, Mother!"
Celestine—Snow—had positioned herself by the doorway already.
Her petite tone rang cheerful. Affectionate.
Her mom beamed right away upon seeing her.
"Fufu, apologies for the delay, Celestine. The bazaar feels rather deserted these days."
Snow grasped the implication.
Bare racks posed no concern.
Rather, it stemmed from the crowds.
The mutterings.
The intentional holdups.
The manner in which sellers prioritized others.
Her mom likely lingered extra to prevent stirring further unease.
Yet Snow refrained from mentioning it.
"I understand. No worries, Mother. The extra time let me delve deeper into studies."
Her mom emitted a gentle laugh while placing the carried hamper aside.
"Really? Such dedication. So, you've wrapped up the tome by now?"
"Yes."
"Excellent!"
She advanced and softly ruffled Celestine’s hair.
The contact conveyed warmth.
"Hehe~" Snow responded with a tiny noise.
Subsequently, her attention drifted a bit.
"Incidentally, Mother... I spotted some kids frolicking out there. Um... did they cause any trouble, maybe?"
Her mom halted briefly.
Then she chuckled mildly.
Snow detected it.
That intentional gentleness in her voice.
"Oh, those? Indeed, I noticed them dashing away too. But truly, they caused no issue."
Snow's expression shadowed subtly.
Not overtly noticeable to casual observers.
But sufficient.
"I see... Um... do you recognize them, perhaps?"
Her tone held firm.
Overly firm for a youngster.
Her mom angled her head faintly, entertained.
Celestine's manner of speaking often struck odd. Composed. Perceptive. Nearly resembling a miniature grown-up rather than a peer-aged child.
Yet she never probed.
"Not precisely," her mom answered. "Likely from homes a short way off. Technically our neighbors."
She offered a slight grin.
"Though... whether you can term them neighbors at such remove, haha."
"I see..."
Snow dipped her eyes a touch.
Thus, they dwelled close by.
Her mom proceeded to the compact cooking space, murmuring a tune while commencing to unload her scant purchases.
"...They caused nothing," Snow echoed quietly to herself.
Her diminutive fingers balled faintly at her hips.
Her mom stopped halfway and rotated partially.
Celestine had trailed her soundlessly to the cooking zone, positioned overly near, observing overly intently.
It deviated from her norm to inquire about peers.
Celestine seldom displayed desire to join games. She avoided grievances. Avoided pleas to venture out. Avoided hints of solitude.
So why this instance?
Sudden realization dawned.
"Celestine..." her mom’s tone grew tender. "Mother regrets..."
"Hn?" Snow glanced upward. "Why the apology?"
Her mom crouched a bit to align their sights.
"You wish to form friendships, right?"
Snow tensed momentarily.
"I understand... Mother’s expectations have weighed heavily of late," the lady pressed on kindly. "But I vow, when the moment arrives, it will all clarify. Just a bit more reading. A touch more sorcery practice. Then the payoff will arrive."
Her palm settled lightly on Celestine’s petite shoulder.
"I vow it."
Snow regarded her steadily.
Ah, so that's her assumption...
The seclusion.
The rigorous lessons.
The limits on her explorations.
It extended beyond safeguarding.
It equaled groundwork.
"Hm?" Snow cocked her head mildly, then beamed vividly. "Friends don't matter much to me, Mother. With you present, all feels well!"
She voiced it effortlessly.
Almost excessively so.
Her mom quivered faintly at the declaration.
Not apparent to outsiders.
But Snow perceived it.
For a mere instant, her mom’s grip firmed on the shoulder.
Followed by the grin.
Affectionate.
Appreciative.
Yet veiling profounder emotions.
In spite of the solitude she had imposed on her offspring...
In spite of awareness that Celestine seldom exited and lacked age-mates for chatter...
Fortune had granted her a daughter free of protests.
Free of entreaties.
Free of recriminations.
And ere long—
She would saddle this identical daughter with a load far weightier than isolation.
A burden Celestine had never sought.
Remorse flickered momentarily in her eyes.
Keen. Aching.
Yet it vanished swiftly.
She quelled it.
Sealed it within.
"I see," she murmured gently. "Such a fine daughter I possess~"
She stroked Celestine’s crown anew, digits pausing longer this round.
Snow lifted her gaze silently.
And in that instant, she discerned it.
A steadfast determination embedding deeply in her mom’s stare.