How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 693: Frozen Trials 6

One week had gone by.

Snow gazed at her own image in the gently flowing river.

"..."

The water rippled softly, warping the features staring back at her.

Freckles sprinkled over her cheeks.

Dark, somewhat curly hair tumbling untidily down to her shoulders.

Sagging skin beneath her jawline.

A slender build that obviously lacked decent nourishment.

She appeared... average.

No.

Below average even.

Exhausted.

Despite seven days of awakening in this form, adjustment still eluded her.

Throughout her existence, praises of her beauty had echoed.

Flawless.

A princess sculpted from ice and radiance.

She had never refuted those claims.

Nor had she ever required to.

Her allure was an undeniable reality.

Yet now, facing this visage—

Nothing regal lingered in it.

Merely a commonplace young woman.

"Snow! Where have you gone? Quick, finish washing those dishes! Patrons are flooding in, and the Head Chef is yelling at me already!"

Her body tensed up.

"On my way!"

She swiftly hoisted a bulky pot laden with damp dishes.

Droplets trickled along her cuffs as she dried them off using a coarse rag. Her fingertips were flushed from the chilly stream.

She rushed back indoors via the rear door.

The inn buzzed with noise, thick with haze, chuckles, and the aroma of grilled meats.

"Snow!" the cook shouted upon spotting her. "I instructed you to scrub those plates quicker! See all these burly fighters waiting around!"

Her eyes flicked to the entrance area.

A cluster of burly explorers occupied a lengthy bench, their plated shoulders jostling, tankards thudding down in frustration.

"Apologies, Chef, heh... the stream looked murky briefly, you understand..."

"Murky water?" he retorted sharply. "In a pristine current beside the chapel? Are you joking with me?"

"Heh heh..."

She mustered a strained chuckle.

"Tch! No time for nonsense. Assist Luie and Kala up front. Take out those servings!"

"Understood, Chef."

Kal Karam — proprietor and lead cook — was an imposing figure.

Wide shoulders, muscular limbs, facial hair shrouding much of his visage.

He resembled a battle-hardened soldier far more than a mere stew preparer.

With a gruff huff, he pivoted toward the hearth, seizing a skillet effortlessly in one grip.

And Snow—

Formerly a noble princess.

Formerly wielder of ice storms and overseer of realms.

Now ferried platters of seared meats and broth amid a boisterous inn.

Over the last week, she had pondered the purpose of this ordeal.

Why this form?

Why this existence?

What precisely was under scrutiny?

Her attractiveness?

Her spirit?

Each dawn brought her to awareness in a cramped loft chamber over the inn. Daily labors included scrubbing, attending patrons, persisting.

No beasts.

No sorcery.

No evident goal.

Simply this routine.

"Snow! Over to table three!"

"Right away!"

She navigated swiftly among the seats, vigilant against spills while rugged explorers guffawed and debated boisterously.

....

"Um... I've pondered this for some time, but... what exactly are you up to?"

Riley's query caused the Frost Queen to halt.

Her digits lingered softly against his face.

She cocked her head a bit, her gaze sharpening as though deeply pondering the reply.

Following moments of silent reflection, she released his features and settled back correctly.

"...Accurately mapping."

"Mapping?" Riley massaged his face. No pain there — merely a faint warmth from the icy contact.

"Indeed."

"For what reason?"

She clasped her hands tidily upon the surface.

"Since any re-creation demands maintaining flawlessness to align with beauty's essence."

"...Understood."

Riley batted his eyes.

That clarified naught.

The more moments he shared with the Frost Queen, the further she drifted from the image he once held of her.

Initial encounters painted her as aloof. Remote. Nearly unreachable.

Currently?

She remained aloof.

Remained refined.

Yet she sporadically seized his countenance every half hour or so, as if scrutinizing a statue of her own crafting.

For context — they occupied her so-called "banquet table."

Though such a label seemed overly kind.

It consisted of a modest rectangular slab formed from solid white frost. A pair of iced seats opposite one another. Lacking embellishments. Lacking repast. Merely the two of them.

The encompassing chamber stretched wide and vacant, yet she adamantly termed this setup a banquet.

In the preceding hour, the cycle had recurred.

Conventional conversation would ensue.

Quietude would descend.

Then abruptly—

She would incline nearer.

Seize his face using both palms.

Softly compress his cheeks.

Rotate his head marginally to the left.

Then to the right.

Occasionally tweaking his chin's position.

Examine him with keen focus.

Then affirm with a single nod to herself.

And resume her position as if undisturbed.

The initial instance left Riley too stunned to respond.

The subsequent one led him to speculate on some peculiar Frost Queen tradition.

By the fifth occurrence, he questioned her possible ennui.

Something in her evoked memories of Seo.

Admittedly, Seo's awkwardness was more overt.

However, the Frost Queen shared that identical peculiar interpersonal detachment.

As though she grasped humanity conceptually... yet struggled practically.

Nevertheless, Riley's tolerance had boundaries.

"So," he ventured once more cautiously, "precisely what are you re-creating?"

Her calm stare met his.

"Yourself."

"...Myself."

"Correct."

"In which manner?"

"In all manners."

Such a response failed to reassure him.

Her silvery gaze swept his features anew, seemingly gauging a balance visible solely to her.

"Minor flaws exist," she whispered softly. "Subtle facial ticks. Uneven muscle strain. It throws off the harmony."

"Harmony of what?"

"The perfect form."

Riley regarded her steadily.

"...You realize I'm merely an everyday fellow, correct?"

A subtle knit formed on her brow.

"You are not."

"That's not my point."

Without preamble, she advanced once more.

This time, Riley twitched faintly.

Her chilled fingertips cradled his cheeks afresh.

She pressed them gently, prompting his lips to purse comically under the force.

"Hold steady," she instructed gravely.

"I am steady!"

She disregarded his protest.

Her thumbs refined his jaw's tilt.

She drew nearer.

Their visages hovered mere inches apart presently.

Her look held profound concentration — akin to a painter refining a concluding stroke.

After an extended interval, she withdrew her hold.

"...Advancement."

Riley gradually reclined in his seat.

"I'm beginning to resemble a molded figurine."

She fluttered her lashes once.

"...An apt description."

He exhaled deeply.

Indeed.

He truly failed to comprehend her any longer.

His eyes dropped downward.

'My beverage has chilled...'

A delicate frost coating had spread atop the formerly hot tea within his frost-hewn vessel.

No vapor rose from it now. It merely rested undisturbed, neglected amid yet another unforeseen facial examination.

"Would you like your tea reheated?"

The Frost Queen posed the query offhandedly, as though warmth yielded to her as effortlessly as respiration.

With a minor motion, she summoned one of the mute attendants positioned along the perimeter.

Riley denied with a head shake and set the vessel aside.

"No need..."

"Really? You strike me as rather peculiar for a mortal."

That's what I ought to remark to you.

The words nearly escaped him.

Nearly.

Yet he restrained the remark.

She transcended humanity.

Not entirely mortal.

Objecting to her notion of normality proved futile.

He cast another look her way and breathed a soft sigh.

Throughout the prior hour, idleness had prevailed.

Sparse exchanges scattered about.

Prolonged hushes.

The sporadic cheek-seizing ceremony.

Even their prior self-presentation seemed odd — courteous, aloof, incomplete.

Resembling a diplomatic encounter between sovereigns more than genuine acquaintance-building.

Nonetheless, her demeanor had been impeccably hospitable.

Polished.

Serene.

Absent animosity. Absent menaces. Absent overt spite.

This amplified the unease.

Riley eased back marginally in his iced perch.

Her summons lacked purpose.

He felt certain of that.

And should purpose exist, it stemmed not from animosity.

But what then?

What did she seek?

Direct inquiries prompted her to deftly redirect the discourse.

Merely... discreetly.

Like flakes drifting from an eave.

He observed her in silence.

The Frost Queen demanded utmost caution.

Should conflict erupt, invocation of his sacred essence proved essential.

No question there.

She transcended casual confrontation.

And wielding that force offered certainty... alongside peril.

Beyond that...

Her commanders lurked immediately outside the portal.

A scant few paces distant at most.

Riley sensed their aura.

Concealment eluded them.

Oppressive.

Vigilant.

Poised.

One errant action — even a misplaced emanation — would summon them charging forth relentlessly.

And that spelled complications.

Not due to incapability in facing them.

Rather, owing to the extent of restraint he currently imposed upon himself.

Ceasing such restraint... would leave this fortress in ruins shortly.

"Your mind wanders profoundly..."

Her tone drew him forth.

"...Light thoughts prove challenging in your company."

She blinked languidly.

"I value your phrasing, yet harbor no malice. I guarantee no injury shall befall you or your cherished one within these walls."

Riley's gaze sharpened subtly.

"Are you certain uttering that here is wise?"

Discreetly, he eyed the attendants bordering the walls.

Eyed the grand entrances.

Eyed the officers stationed just beyond, undoubtedly catching every uttered syllable.

At present, the Frost Queen extended regal welcome to him — a trespasser.

And not any ordinary trespasser.

He ranked among the prime causes for her horde's devastation.

Her elite commanders? He had nearly eradicated them owing to her directives.

She recognized this.

They recognized this.

Underlying grudge must fester concealed.

Fomenting that grudge scarcely qualified as prudent governance.

Even in a stronghold governed by might and prowess, allegiance held significance.

She comprehends my role in dismantling much of her troops... doesn't she?

"Their views hold no sway over me."

She stated it plainly.

No delay.

No haughtiness.

Simply truth.

"I see..." Riley murmured.

Her stare remained steadfast.

"Within this fortress," she proceeded evenly, "prowess determines rank. Naught else. If they harbor grudge toward you, they might contest you. Defeat renders their grudge mute."

Such assurance offered scant solace.

"Quite the direct hierarchy," Riley remarked wryly.

"It proves effective."

She genuinely disregarded her followers' sentiments — provided discipline endured.

"Even so," Riley appended, "fidelity isn't dismissed lightly."

Her head inclined marginally.

"I dismiss it not. I merely refrain from relying upon it."

Quietude enveloped them anew.

Chilled breeze wafted gently over the petite surface.

For a sovereign of beastly domains, her speech carried disquieting lucidity.

Recklessness evaded her.

Naivety evaded her.

This rendered the scenario all the more baffling.

"Then why extend the invitation?" Riley inquired at last, his tone firmer now. "You know my deeds. You know my capabilities."

Her gaze gentled — marginally.

"Affirmative."

"Yet you converse here solely with me."

A brief interlude.

Then—

"For," she uttered softly, "you prove essential."