How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

"Well, this is surprising," she said, leaning back with a faint smirk, though the frustration in her eyes was hard to miss.

"What about it is surprising?"

"Well, of course... me losing to you, that is."

On the screen in front of us, the results were clear: a bold lineup of placements that left no room for dispute.

We'd only been gaming for about half an hour, yet it was evident who the real winner was.

After multiple rematches, the scoreboard glared at her, mocking her with its brutal honesty.

"With that, it's 3-0 in favor of you," she continued, her tone light but edged with annoyance. "And here I thought you'd be shitty at everything you do. But I guess even you have your own set of talents, huh?"

"I wouldn't call this a talent,"

Honestly, I was the one who was surprised—just not in the way she might have thought.

She was so bad at the game that I couldn't help but wonder why she'd challenged me in the first place.

I had always thought of her as someone exceptional, the type of person who excelled at everything she did.

But seeing her struggle through the game with movements as awkward as a novice's, it felt like I was playing against the most inexperienced of noobs.

Sure, it could've been her first time with this particular game, but something about that didn't add up.

My suspicions deepened when I caught a glimpse of her playtime: 40 hours logged before today.

Forty hours.

It didn't make sense.

No one could spend that much time on a game and still perform like... this.

Unless, of course, she'd never actually tried to improve.

Maybe it was because I was just that much more experienced than her when it came to gaming.

After her death in the past, I'd inherited her entire fortune, and in my strange mix of celebration and self-indulgence, I spent an entire year doing nothing but playing games.

I ground through levels, achieved everything I'd ever wanted in gaming, and finally indulged in the childhood I felt I'd missed out on.

It was a blissful, cursed year—a fleeting escape from reality. At least, until I came across that game and my life spiraled out of control and became as it is now…

'Or, maybe she just really sucked at this.'

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her sharp tone tinged with curiosity as her piercing gaze locked onto mine.

"It's nothing," I replied, quickly averting my eyes.

"Tsk~ This is no fun," she huffed, tossing her controller onto the table with a dramatic sigh. "What's the point of gaming if I can't beat you?"

"If that's what you wanted, you could've just done so physically,"

She chuckled, a sound that was equal parts amusement and menace.

"Hoh? You're really aiming for where it hurts, huh~ You do know I can kill you without even needing to lift a finger, right?"

"I know," I replied, meeting her gaze evenly. "But you won't."

Her smile widened, sly and dangerous.

"You've really developed quite the snake-like tongue, haven't you? You're starting to remind me of General Lisa. Don't tell me you've been cozying up to that old coot.

"I may like older women, but I don't go for married ones."

Her laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. "How confident you sound, as if it'd be so easy for you to get her~ Even though you've never touched a woman in your life."

"I'd rather focus on the game than discuss my personal life."

Well, technically speaking, I did sleep with General Lisa—after her death, that is.

And it was her who had initiated it forcibly, not me.

But that was in the past, in another lifetime. Now that I've been reincarnated into a new life, could I still count that?

By that logic, maybe she was right?

Though I retained all my memories as Han, being Riley was a different experience altogether.

In this timeline, it would still be a few months before that moment with General Lisa could even happen. So to say I had no experience with women wasn't exactly true either...

"Hm~ You're mad again. Did I bring up some unwanted memories~?" she asked, her voice dripping with mockery, her smirk unwavering.

"No," I replied curtly.

If anything, I wasn't mad—I was disappointed. I may have hated my mother, but I couldn't fully blame her for what happened that day.

She wasn't even the one who approved the suicide mission that led to my first love's untimely death.

Yes, my mother was the General at the time, but I doubted she cared—or even could care—about such a decision.

War was a cruel, relentless machine where death was an inevitable cog in the wheel.

It was the nature of the battlefield.

Mother shifted her gaze to the window, her sharp eyes catching the sun high above. Noon was approaching. She let out a long sigh before turning back to me, her expression laced with disinterest.

"How boring. Hey, how long are you planning to stay?"

Honestly, I didn't know.

Even if I wanted to leave, to spare myself from seeing her smug face any longer, I couldn't afford to do so.

Not yet. This place was likely tied to the trial's progress, and walking away could mean missing something crucial.

How I wished I could just tell her outright: "I'll leave when the system says I can." But that would only make me sound insane to her.

So instead, I kept it simple.

"As long as you want me to," I replied.

"..."

Her ever-present smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by an expression I couldn't quite place.

It wasn't like her to drop the act, even for a second.

Then, as if to recover, she squirmed slightly, trying to sit up.

I raised a brow at her sudden awkwardness, but before I could say anything, a series of coughs interrupted her movements.

"Is that so?" she said after a moment, her voice steadier but still tinged with the rasp of her illness. "Since you're probably not leaving anytime soon, how about another game?"

Without waiting for my answer, she grabbed the controller from earlier and eagerly opened a new game, her excitement palpable.

Not that my response mattered—whether or not I agreed, she would have loaded it up anyway.

A small board materialized in front of us, conjured by the fabricator embedded in the side of the bed.

A mouse and keyboard appeared alongside it, their design sleek and ergonomic.

As the loading screen appeared, my stomach sank at the title displayed in bold, glowing letters:

[League of Champions]

I couldn't help but squint my eyes in annoyance.

Of all games, it had to be this one.

It was a very sweaty MOBA game, infamous for its toxic player base, steep learning curve, and matches that could last an eternity.

Mother, however, looked thrilled, her smirk returning as she glanced at me. "What's wrong, kid? Scared of a little competition?"

I sighed. "You're aware this game is the definition of suffering, right?"

Her laugh was low and menacing, the kind that grated on your nerves. "Good. I thrive on suffering."

"Do you even know how to play this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her overly confident expression.

"Of course," she replied without hesitation, her voice dripping with certainty.

I highly doubted that.

And as we started our first couple of games, my suspicions were confirmed.

She was terrible.

Despite her unwavering confidence, she was singlehandedly feeding the enemy team, her reckless gameplay dragging us deeper into a losing spiral.

Every move she made seemed to scream, "I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Yet, she was far too stubborn to admit defeat.

"Fuck! Why isn't the damn jungle ganking for fuck's sake?!" she growled, her frustration boiling over.

I tried to focus on my lane, suppressing a sigh. "Maybe because you keep overextending and dying before they can even reach you?"

"Hey, Han, what are you doing?! Start pushing!" she snapped, completely ignoring her own mistakes.

The game dragged on painfully, and once it was finally over—our inevitable defeat sealed—she leaned back and tossed the controller aside with a huff.

"Hey, Han, let's play another game!" she demanded, as if nothing had happened.

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

We moved on to other games in her library, one after another.

Racing, shooting, strategy, even puzzle games—it didn't matter.

No matter the genre, she just couldn't seem to secure a single win.

By the time we wrapped up yet another embarrassing match, she threw her hands in the air in mock indignation.

"You're cursed, Han!" she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at me as if I were the root of all her failures.

This was something I never knew about my mother…

'She truly sucked at gaming'

For someone who loved to act so untouchable, she was hilariously human in her defeat.

As the day ended, I ended up returning back to my apartment a smile I never noticed was plastered on my face.

[Note: Progress...30%]