How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

The sound of birds chirping echoed softly across the courtyard.

A gentle breeze rustled the trees, and the skies above the academy were painted a clear, radiant blue—unblemished, as if untouched by the chaos of just days ago.

The winter’s grasp had begun to weaken.

Snow still clung to the corners of stone buildings and blanketed the shadows where the sun did not reach, but the world was slowly changing.

The scent of spring lingered in the air—fresh, warm, and filled with subtle life. It was the unmistakable sign that a new season, and perhaps a new chapter, was beginning.

Classes had resumed like normal.

The Academy was once again filled with the sounds of lectures, sparring chants from the training fields, and the subtle hum of magical resonance within the halls.

The recent incident during the opening ceremony—the abrupt descent of monstrous ice golems from the sky—had already begun to fade from memory.

Students were quick to forget what didn’t directly affect them, and most had chosen to believe that the situation had been a mere surprise test, or an orchestrated training simulation by the Academy.

But not all could forget so easily.

Especially not the freshmen—those who had seen it up close.

Those who had witnessed the field split open, the monsters fall like rain, and the upperclassmen who fought like heroes from the pages of a storybook.

And above all else, there was one name that lingered in their minds the most.

Riley Hell.

Golden-haired. Calm-eyed. Drenched in lightning and shadow, his figure had split through golems like paper.

He had appeared like a force of nature—abrupt, decisive, and terrifying in power.

To the freshmen, he was many things.

A savior.

A tyrant.

A playboy.

A living contradiction.

There were whispers in every hallway, in every shared dormitory room. Rumors that tangled together into a mess of awe, fear, and envy.

“He’s dating multiple women at once, did you know that? Nobles. Princesses. Even a nun from the church of light, they say.”

“That’s not even the craziest part. Didn’t you hear? He took down more than twenty A-rank monsters on his own that day.”

“What’s the Academy even doing letting someone like him run wild?”

“Shut up. You’re just jealous. You wouldn’t say that if he saved you.”

Opinions clashed like swords drawn from opposite sheaths.

Some called him a hero.

Some called him a dangerous maniac.

Others merely stared when his name came up, unable to put into words the weight of that presence they had witnessed on the battlefield.

But beneath all the rumors—beneath the whispered titles and scandalous theories—one truth was shared among them all.

He was the strongest.

Not just by rank, or by name.

Not just by the women at his side, or the way his presence seemed to crush the air in a room.

But by sheer, overwhelming force.

He wasn’t a prince, nor a noble by birth.

But in the eyes of the student body, his position had already been secured.

A presence too great to ignore. A force too unpredictable to tame. A hidden master no more.

Riley Hell.

Second-year student.

Feared. Admired. Desired.

And perhaps… the most dangerous man in the academy.

….

“Have we perhaps arrived a bit too early, Skirt?”

Stacia’s gentle voice carried across the quiet garden, touched by the early morning breeze.

She sat gracefully on a stone bench nestled under a blossoming magnolia tree—its pale flowers beginning to bloom as spring announced its arrival.

Her posture was as regal as ever, refined yet relaxed, the long folds of her uniform dress rippling gently under the soft winds.

“No, Your Highness,” came the reply from the aged man standing respectfully beside her. “I believe we are right on time. After all, being early is the foundation of punctuality… and a sign of respect.”

Skirt, her personal butler, bowed slightly as he spoke.

His short white hair was neatly combed, and though his eyes appeared half-closed in that ever-calm demeanor of his, nothing seemed to escape his attention.

As always, he exuded the quiet discipline of someone who had long served a royal household.

His presence here at the Academy was technically against regulation, but exceptions were made for the highborn—especially those of royal blood like Stacia Alger Del Luna.

The garden they occupied was one of the Academy’s lesser-known retreats, hidden just behind Killian Hall and shielded by old trees and mana-grown ivy. It was a place few students even knew existed, which made it a perfect sanctuary for moments like this.

Stacia gently crossed one leg over the other and glanced at the budding flowers around her. She toyed with a loose strand of platinum blonde hair as a stray thought crossed her mind.

“…They say the next elections for Student Council President are coming up,” she murmured. “Should I try to join?”

Skirt’s eyes shifted slightly, studying her profile with a smile that was both courteous and understanding.

“Whatever decision Her Highness believes is right, I shall fully support,” he said, pausing for just a moment before adding, “However… it would seem that Princess Snow’s victory is, once again, nearly assured. Her popularity within the Academy is deeply rooted. Even the professors praise her as if she were a member of the faculty.”

Stacia smiled wryly at that.

A veiled warning, spoken gently.

She appreciated Skirt’s honesty—disguised as humility, of course—but she understood what he truly meant.

‘I would lose.’

“Even though we’re both princesses,” she muttered under her breath, her voice touched with a quiet amusement. “It seems there are some mountains I still can’t climb…”

She looked down at her hands for a moment, contemplating. Then, almost to herself, she added, “I suppose I’ll have to ignore His Majesty’s suggestion for now. A frontal assault against an invincible enemy would be… inefficient.”

Skirt gave a slight nod, clearly approving.

“A wise decision, Your Highness.”

Though her father—the King of Del Luna—had subtly encouraged her to compete with Princess Snow, perhaps to make her presence more visible in international circles, Stacia was not so blinded by ambition that she would step into a battle she couldn’t win.

After all, Snow’s influence was immense.

Her name was spoken in every department, her elegance admired by professors and nobles alike.

Her presence was revered, her grades unmatched.

She was more than just another student—she was a symbol. Competing against her now would only invite comparison and defeat.

But that didn’t mean Stacia held resentment. No, quite the opposite.

She deserves it, Stacia thought.

She’s never taken her achievements for granted… and she’s never once faltered beneath the weight of the expectations she carries.

She looked up at the sky, light filtering through the leaves.

A soft wind tugged at her long, golden hair, and for a moment she allowed herself to wonder—not with envy, but with anticipation.

“…One day,” she whispered, “I’ll reach that height, too. Not through competition… but through action.”

Skirt glanced at her, smiling quietly.

“You already stand tall, Your Highness,” he said gently. “The world simply has yet to realize how far your shadow will reach.”

Stacia chuckled under her breath.

“Still such a sweet talker, even after all these years,”

‘It would be nice if I could one-up her someday…’

The thought flickered through Stacia’s mind like a quiet ember, not born out of bitterness, but out of quiet conviction.

She bore no hatred toward Princess Snow. In truth, she respected her deeply.

Snow was graceful, competent, intelligent—and above all else, beloved by nearly everyone.

Even Stacia herself could not deny the Empire’s flower was deserving of the admiration she received.

But even respect had its limits.

As a princess of the Kingdom of Luna, Stacia could not allow herself to always stand second in line, especially not when facing someone from Germonia—the most powerful Empire on the continent.

There was pride at stake, not just personal but national.

And even if Snow was not her enemy, she still stood as a symbol of a higher pedestal.

Stacia’s dignity as Luna’s royal daughter wouldn’t allow her to stay quietly in someone else’s shadow forever.

If there ever comes a day when I stand opposite her… I want to at least be someone who can match her presence.

It was not a matter of vanity, nor rivalry—it was responsibility.

Her homeland might be recognized among the top three countries of the continent, but in truth, Luna’s position was fragile.

A kingdom steeped in tradition, diplomacy, and culture—but lacking the raw power of their counterparts.

Compared to the Holy Kingdom, which housed divine warriors and blessed saints… or the Germonia Empire, backed by the most elite magic knights, Arch mages, and the most powerful swordsman alive and a sprawling industrial war machine… Luna was merely a flourishing flower garden at the edge of two mighty mountains.

Even the Eastern Empire, a rising power formed by the unity of ancient clans and martial families, had begun to eclipse them in military influence.

For all of Luna’s elegance and nobility, it was a nation fighting to keep pace, relying on diplomacy and symbolism more than swords and steel.

Petty, isn’t it? Stacia mused.

And yet, such thoughts couldn’t be avoided when you were born into royalty.

She was the Kingdom’s pride, and the center of its hopes.

If Snow is to be the prized jewel of the Empire… then let me be Luna’s blazing crown.

A radiant banner, not trailing behind—but standing shoulder to shoulder.

Even a symbolic jab—just enough to say “I am your equal.” That alone would be enough.

Not for personal pride, but for the dignity of the country she loved.

“Everything went well, right, Skirt?”

Stacia’s voice was calm as she sipped from a porcelain cup, the warm tea matching the gentle rays of the morning sun brushing across the garden.

Skirt, ever the loyal attendant, gave a slight bow. “Yes, Your Highness. The principal has approved the personal assignment of Sir Riley as your mentor. However…” he hesitated slightly, “…the administrative office did express concerns regarding the payment conditions. They’ve proposed we renegotiate the sponsorship price.”

Stacia waved her hand lightly, brushing off the suggestion with a graceful smile.

“There’s no need for that. This is a privilege, not a transaction. Just pay them in full.”

Skirt nodded again, though a faint sigh remained beneath his breath.

Only someone like her—someone of royalty—could afford to call bending the academy’s rules a privilege. He didn’t protest further.

After all, what they were doing was technically legal… just not moral.

Stacia had manipulated the freshly established Mentorship Training Program—a system meant to randomly pair second-year students with first-year protégés—to match her with Riley Hell.

It was meant to be fate’s draw, a randomized pairing.

But Stacia knew better than to leave anything to chance.

And since both administrative sides were satisfied with the generous offer—both in influence and money—it was simply efficient negotiation, not corruption.

Even if the person directly involved, Riley, wasn’t informed of the backstage dealings.

Stacia set her cup down gently, a composed look on her face, but there was a flicker of something youthful in her eyes.

“I wonder when Senior will arrive…”

She didn’t need to wait long.

The soft crunch of grass echoed through the secluded courtyard. A familiar presence—a subtle pressure like lightning coiled beneath a calm breeze—signaled his approach.

She rose from her seat instinctively, brushing invisible wrinkles from her dress as a bright, practiced smile bloomed on her face.

“Good morning, Senior Riley,” she greeted, voice warm, tone just formal enough.

“Good morning, Junior,” Riley replied casually, offering a short nod.

To anyone watching, it would’ve looked like a simple meeting between upper and underclassmen.

But to Stacia, it was something more.

She didn’t mind getting her hands a little dirty—not when it was for someone like him.

In her eyes, Riley Hell was too perfect, too sharp, too monumental to simply let slip through the cracks of fate.

And if the system didn’t give her what she wanted, she would bend it.

Because Riley wasn’t just a powerful mentor…

He was her choice.

Her perfect hero.

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