How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Upon leaving the room, I was greeted once again by the soft glow of the morning sun, its warm light spilling over the edges of the rooftops.

Standing on the ledge of the building, I paused for a moment, taking in the surreal view.

Over the past few days, I'd grown accustomed to this sight—though the feeling of being back here still lingered like a faint whisper in my mind.

"Hoho, you're up for your daily morning walks again," a familiar voice called out.

Turning, I saw the old man who lived in the apartment next to mine, his face lined with the kind of warmth only age could bring.

"You've been steadily getting over it, young man. Did something good happen?"

I offered a faint smile and replied, "I've got to maintain my health one way or another, right?"

"Hoho, that's true! If only these tired bones of mine wouldn't give up so easily, I'd join you as well."

"I'm sure Bear appreciates the slow, leisurely walks you give him."

"Tsk, I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not."

The corners of my lips curled into a warm, slight smile as I waved goodbye and began my jog.

This had become a familiar part of my routine, one I embraced almost without thinking.

Descending the stairs instead of taking the elevator had turned into an efficient warm-up for this unhealthy, tired body of mine.

Each step echoed softly in the stairwell as I moved down with a rhythm that felt almost meditative.

It wasn't that my original body, Han's body, was inherently bad.

But when compared to the chiseled, battle-hardened physique I'd painstakingly earned as Riley in the other world, it was hard not to feel the difference.

My current body felt sluggish and untrained—a far cry from the peak performance I was used to.

I was even starting to notice the faint beginnings of a belly, a small reminder of how different my lifestyle here had been.

I really was living like crap during this period of my life.

Well, it made sense. This was the time right after I'd been released from the military guard.
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A rough period—one where everything seemed to spiral downhill.

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of unwelcome memories tied to this time.

What was the point in dredging them up again?

Instead, I focused on the things I'd discovered over the past few days of staying here.

First, I learned that my freedom came with strict limits.

I wasn't allowed to go beyond a two-kilometer radius from my apartment.

Anything beyond that was a no-go zone. I found that out the hard way when I decided to keep running in a straight line, aiming to explore the next sector of the city.

Just as I started to feel the thrill of getting somewhere new, I slammed into an invisible barrier.

The force was jarring, like hitting a glass wall that didn't exist until you touched it.

Second, the world resets every three days.

No matter what I did, what I changed, or how far I pushed myself, everything would loop back to the same point after three days.

The reason? Still a mystery.

While this reinforced the idea that this world was part of the trial, it didn't make it any less frustrating to live through.

Experiencing the same events over and over again was maddening.

Take the old man, for example.

At first, his morning greetings and small talk had been a nice distraction, maybe even comforting.

But by now, it was already starting to grate on my nerves.

Knowing exactly what he was going to say before he said it drained any sense of novelty or connection from the interaction.

The third and final piece of information I managed to uncover was a bit unsettling. I couldn't harm anyone—not others, and not myself.

At first, it made sense.

A test wouldn't want its participants taking drastic shortcuts or derailing the trial entirely.

But the fact that such a restriction was deliberately placed made me think there was a deeper purpose behind it.

The trial was trying to send a message, one I wasn't fully grasping yet.

And lastly…

[Note: Riley Hell]

The system still registered me as Riley Hell, not my original identity, Han.

That detail, small as it might seem, wasn't something I could ignore.

It was a constant reminder of who I had become—or who I was supposed to be.

Yet, despite carrying Riley's name, my overall stats and abilities from the other world were completely gone.

No power, no skills, nothing.

This left me in a strange limbo.

I was Riley Hell in name, but not in strength or capability.

With these pieces of information, I still couldn't make a dent in figuring out what the trial wanted from me.

Days of circling the same routines, retracing the same steps, and hitting the same walls had led me nowhere.

The world resetting every three days made it easy to tell myself not to rush, to take my time and figure things out calmly.

But calm had its limits.

Three days became six, and six turned into nine, and here I was—no closer to understanding the point of it all.

The lack of progress was starting to gnaw at my mind. The weight of stagnation pressed down on me, heavier with each reset.

I couldn't help but feel that if I continued like this, I'd be stuck here forever.

....

It was now the 7th reset.

Arriving at the nearby hospital, I found myself standing at the crossroads of necessity and hesitation.

Despite my attempts to calmly clear my mind and focus on piecing together the trial's purpose, I had no solid leads.

But…

I knew, deep down, that this place should have been my first destination.

It was so close to where I lived that ignoring it had been almost deliberate.

Just as I avoided letting my thoughts stray too deeply into those wretched memories.

This place—the memories it dragged up—was tied to the only great sin I had probably committed in this lifetime.

The weight of that truth sat heavily on my chest as I approached the reception desk.

"Are you here for a formal visit?" the nurse asked, her tone professional but cautious.

"Yes,"

"Which patient is it?"

"Codex 12," I answered without hesitation, though my heart thudded against my ribcage at the words.

The nurse stiffened slightly at my response.

Her expression wavered between curiosity and fear, her wary eyes flitting across my face.

It wasn't surprising.

There couldn't have been many people who came here to visit her.

If she feared me by association, it made sense.

As I'm the same as the patient Afterall…

Before I could dwell on her reaction, a guide appeared, tasked with escorting me to the room.

The walk through the sterile corridors felt longer than it was, each step pulling me closer to a part of my past I'd rather leave buried.

The walls were clean, the air smelled faintly of disinfectant, and the echo of our footsteps was the only sound filling the space.

Yet every detail of the environment seemed to amplify the tension crawling up my spine.

We stopped in front of a door.

"This is it," the guide said quietly, giving me a sympathetic glance before retreating back down the hallway.

I stood there, staring at the door, feeling the faint tremor in my fingers as they hovered over the handle.

My nerves quaked slightly, though I tried to force myself to steady them.

Unwanted memories began to bubble up, clawing at the edges of my mind, but I pushed them back.

This was just a test.

Everything here wasn't real.

This whole scenario was a fabrication—something that never happened to me in this lifetime.

I had never chosen to visit her.

Maybe that was my mistake, the one that weighed on me no matter how hard I tried to forget. Maybe that was why I was here now, trying to fix it.

But then why wasn't my damn body moving?

"Tsk…" I clicked my tongue in frustration, my hands twitching uselessly at my sides.

The nurse, misunderstanding my hesitation, gave a polite but awkward bow.

"W-Well then, I'll be going now."

Her voice was trembling, as though eager to escape from the awkwardness—or perhaps the atmosphere surrounding me.

Before I could respond, she quickly turned on her heels and disappeared down the corridor.

I sighed, scratching the back of my head as I tried to gather myself.

Inhaling sharply, I forced the air out just as fast, trying to calm the storm inside me.

My heart and mind were tangled with unnecessary thoughts, fighting to paralyze me.

But I wouldn't let them.

I gripped the cold metal knob of the door, my fingers tightening as if bracing for an impact.

With one sharp motion, I turned it and stepped inside.

The scene that greeted me was what I expected but still felt like a punch to the gut.

The sterile white of a hospital room stretched before me, illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the large windows.

Despite its minimalist design, the room felt far more luxurious than your average hospital accommodation.

This wasn't the kind of place an ordinary person would end up—not unless they were among the top 10 percent of the world's wealthiest or most powerful individuals.

But of course, the person occupying this room was special enough to justify it.

The space was unnecessarily large for just one person, yet the emptiness made it feel suffocating.

Each carefully arranged detail—the spotless walls, the polished furniture, even the faint hum of the machines—only served to amplify the heaviness in the air.

Cling!

Clang!

Swoosh!

The rhythmic sound effects of a game being played echoed from deeper inside the room, filling the otherwise sterile silence.

I stepped closer, each footfall muted by the pristine flooring, my eyes scanning the source of the noise.

There she was.

Sitting upright on her hospital bed, utterly absorbed in the game before her.

Her fingers moved with a practiced intensity, mashing the controller's buttons with precision.

On the wide-screen monitor across from her, vibrant colors and rapid motion flickered—proof of her immersion.

Beside her lay a tray of untouched food.

The once-warm meal was now lukewarm, its steam long faded into the crisp, clinical air of the room.

She hadn't touched it.

Not a single bite.

And yet, despite her focus on the screen, she noticed me.

Her head turned, and those familiar eyes—the same piercing blue as mine—met my gaze.

"Would you look at this?" she said, her voice brimming with amusement.

A mischievous smile crept across her lips. "Finally came to see me, huh?"

The way she spoke was casual, almost mocking, but her tone carried an edge that sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

Her gaze seemed sharp, but I knew better. Her blue eyes reflected nothing—empty windows to a world she could no longer see. Even blind, she didn't miss my presence.

Perhaps it was the way I carried myself, or maybe just the sheer weight of my arrival, as obvious as an elephant stepping into the room.

"Mother…" I mumbled, the word catching in my throat as though it didn't belong there.

The smile on her face widened, stretching into something manic, almost predatory. It was a grin that didn't belong on someone lying in a hospital bed.