How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 192: A will to live....2.5



Her sudden turn to the dark side had never quite made sense.

Even after considerable research into her lore, the developers had

left players with little to no information about her true motivations.

She was, in essence, a loophole-a glaring plot hole in the game's storyline. And that plot hole seemed to mirror another character: Rose.

Dorothy and Rose shared something significant, something that connected their fates in a way that went beyond the surface-level storytelling.

In every possible end Dorothy faced, Rose had always been a part of it-whether as a friend, an opponent, or an ally.

The two of them were intrinsically linked in a way that hadn't been fully explained in the game.

But now, as I sat beside her in the ruins of the clock tower, it was becoming clearer.

Their connection wasn't random; it was deliberate, deeply woven into the fabric of the narrative.

"Why show me this?"

Dorothy smiled softly, though there was a touch of sadness in her expression.

"I don't know," she admitted, her golden eyes reflecting the morning light.

"I just felt like I could trust you to keep this little secret with me... to the grave, Junior."

Her words weighed heavily on me.

'Trust.'

It wasn't something I had expected from her, not like this.

But there was something genuine in her gaze, something that made me feel like I had been given a glimpse into the real Dorothy-the one who had been hidden away all this time, behind layers of darkness and complexity.

"Does Rose know about this?" I asked, almost instinctively.

Dorothy's expression shifted, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

She shook her head. "No... There's no need to burden that child with such complexities. Rose is meant to become the shining light for everyone. Her path must walk straight, without any distractions."

With her golden hair basking in the soft morning light,

Dorothy looked so similar to Rose that it was undeniable now-their connection ran deeper than mere coincidence.

'They were sisters.'

The resemblance was striking, not just in appearance but in the aura they carried.

And yet, despite the obvious truth, they had lived completely separate lives, unaware of each other's existence.

The reasons for their estrangement, though not explicitly spoken, were becoming clearer by the moment.

Rose, the bright and shining beacon, was meant to take center stage, to bask in the limelight as the perfect child, the hope of her family.

But Dorothy? Dorothy was the hidden shame, the blemish on the family's reputation-the illegitimate child, the one they kept in the shadows.

A bastard.

It was painfully easy to piece together now, and the burden Dorothy must have carried throughout her childhood was suddenly all too clear.

The weight of being cast aside, of being hidden away to preserve a façade of family honor.

If she had been burdened with this her entire life, it explained so much-her readiness to disappear, her willingness to fade from the world without a trace.

She had been preparing for this, hadn't she?

This wasn't the desperate, panicked retreat of someone caught off guard.

Dorothy had planned for her end, had come to terms with it long before this moment.

And though I still didn't have all the details, it was now apparent that Dorothy, in some way, had always been destined to die.

What Dorothy had done-choosing to disappear now, in this way-wasn't just about her own demise.

She had set the stage for someone else.

Her actions had a purpose, a clear intent.

She wanted to cast a light on someone, to bring the focus to the person she believed deserved it most.

Perhaps that was why, in the game, there was always a heroine and a hero present in each of her scenarios.

Dorothy wasn't just a boss to defeat for glory; she was a character specifically designed to highlight the strengths and potential of others.

Her role was to elevate those around her, to make them shine brighter in the eyes of the world.

She was a necessary sacrifice for the sake of others' greatness.

Suddenly, the weight of what she had been carrying all this time hit me like a wave.

The constant rejection, the lack of recognition, the quiet suffering she probably experienced ever since she was a child, it all made sense now.

Dorothy had never been allowed to be her own person, never given the chance to step into the light on her own terms.

And so, she had chosen to shape her own end-to make sure that her death would have meaning, even if her life hadn't been allowed to.

"I must've been hard..." The words slipped out of my mouth before I even realized it. "You've

done enough...."

Dorothy's golden eyes flickered in surprise, as if she hadn't expected anyone to acknowledge the pain she had endured.

For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression softening.

There was a glimmer of something in her gaze-gratitude, maybe?

Or perhaps just the quiet relief of someone who had finally been seen, even if only at the end.

"Thank you...." Dorothy's voice trembled, her words barely reaching my ears.

I saw the faint glimmers of tears welling up beneath her eyes, catching the soft morning light like fragile, shimmering jewels.

Hugging her legs tightly, she looked so small, so vulnerable, in that moment.

I stayed silent, unable to say anything that would comfort her, but I didn't need to.

The quiet between us spoke volumes.

Her slight sobs filled the space between us, raw and unguarded.

I had so many questions swirling in my mind-questions that needed answers-but I knew

now wasn't the time for them.

I knew, deep down, that all of this was everything I needed to know about Dorothy.

The rest—the mystery, the unresolved bits of her past didn't matter. What mattered was here, now, and the person she was in these final moments.

Trying to save her from the fate she had chosen had probably been a mistake on my part.

But with the system's slight interference lingering in my mind, I couldn't shake the doubt.

Had she truly wanted this all along?

Or had the system's hand guided her toward this inevitable end?

Either way, I could only sit here and watch as her fate unfolded in front of me.

As Dorothy's sobs slowly quieted, her breathing became steadier. I looked over and noticed

something strange.

Her hand, once solid and warm, was beginning to crumble.

The delicate fingers disintegrated into thin air, like dust swept away by the wind.

My gaze followed the slow unraveling of her form as the lower half of her legs began to

dissolve in the same way. She was fading, piece by piece.

"You know...," Dorothy started, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Do you want to hear something a bit embarrassing before I go, Junior?"

I glanced at her, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. "What is it?"

She smiled, a bittersweet glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "My heart is skipping a beat for you

right now~"

I blinked, caught off guard by her words.

She continued, her voice teasing but genuine.

"Now I think I'm starting to understand why Rose sees you in that way. As her big sister, I

greatly approve of you~"

I let out a soft chuckle, not sure how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess?" Dorothy's laugh broke through the air, light and carefree, as if the weight of her impending

end no longer pressed on her shoulders.

She laughed at her own words, and for a moment, the sorrow between us seemed to lift.

There was something peaceful in her laughter, something that made me realize she had made peace with her fate long before now.

I stayed by her side, watching her closely as every moment became etched in my mind.

My Archive skill, which had been silently active since the start of our conversation, now worked overtime to capture every detail.

This was Dorothy's final moment, and I was engraving it into my memory, preserving it until

the end of my time.

As more of her body crumbled into dust, the laughter slowly faded from her lips. She looked at

me one last time, her golden eyes full of warmth.

"Junior... I think this is goodbye."

The weight of her words settled over me, and I nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed

in my throat.

At this moment, I knew I had failed miserably.

All the preparations, the careful planning-what was it worth in the end? I couldn't even save

her.

The weight of my failure pressed down on me, a bitter reminder of how powerless I truly was

in the grand scheme of things.

So much for all the planning, all the strategic decisions. Haha.

The truth was, this had all gone wrong long before I had even gotten involved.

It wasn't something I could have interfered with or altered; it was a problem rooted so deep

that by the time I arrived, it was already beyond my reach.

And now, as Dorothy slowly began to disappear, bit by bit, fading into nothingness, I felt an overwhelming sense of regret.

Not just because I had failed to save her, but because even now, in her final moments, as her

body crumbled into dust, I was selfishly trying to make her live on in my own way.

[Note: Skill: Archive (S) is fully recording user scenario!]

[Note: Recording full details might lead to user mental damage.]

[Note: It is advised to-]

'Just shut up and record...'

I didn't care about the warnings.

The system's mechanical voice faded into the background as I focused solely on her.

I needed this. I needed to remember every detail, every word she spoke, every flicker of

emotion in her eyes.

Even if it hurt me, even if it left a scar on my mind, I didn't care.

This was Dorothy's final gift to me, and I wasn't going to let it slip away.

Her body, once solid and alive, was now barely visible—a ghostly outline of what she once

was.

But even as she faded, her smile remained.

She looked at me with those golden eyes, full of warmth and something I couldn't quite place

-maybe it was peace, maybe it was acceptance.

"Thank you... for finding me," she whispered, her voice soft and gentle, like a breeze passing

through the trees.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

A soft shimmer of light enveloped her as she vanished, leaving behind nothing but the empty

space beside me.

The air where she had been was still, as if the world itself was holding its breath, acknowledging her quiet departure.

I stared at the empty space for a long time, my heart slightly heavy with the weight of her

absence.

She had been right there, only moments ago, and now... she was gone.

The only thing left was the lingering warmth in my heart, the faint echo of her presence that

still clung to the air, and the memories I had carefully archived.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its golden light illuminated the ruins of the clocktower,

casting long, jagged shadows across the ground.

The debris, the crumbling walls, and the gaping hole in the roof all seemed to blend together

in a scene of desolation.

Yet, amid the chaos, the morning sun bathed everything in a quiet, almost serene glow.

I stood there, staring at the spot where Dorothy had vanished, feeling a strange hollowness

settle in my chest.

It was as if the weight of the entire encounter was finally catching up to me, sinking deep into

my bones.

I had come here with hope-hope that I could somehow change things, that I could be the one to save her.

But now, that hope felt naive, almost laughable.

In the end, all I had done was bear witness to her final moments.

I hadn't been the hero, hadn't altered fate, hadn't rewritten her story.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

I had merely stood by, helpless, as she accepted her inevitable end.

And yet, despite the emptiness gnawing at me, there was a strange sense of comfort in the

memory of those final moments.

Dorothy hadn't been scared, nor bitter.

She had smiled, laughed even, and in her own way, she had lived right until the end.

There was something peaceful in that-an odd sense of closure.

Turning toward the dark corner where she had disappeared, I reached into my pouch and

pulled out a few spare mana stones.

They were small, glowing faintly with energy-nothing grand or ceremonial, but they would

have to do.

I knelt down and carefully placed them on the ground, in the exact spot where Dorothy had crumbled into nothingness.

The stones shimmered faintly in the shadows, a quiet tribute to the girl who had borne so much, yet asked for so little in the end.

Straightening up, I took a deep breath and made a slight bow.

"Goodbye, President....."

The words felt inadequate, almost too simple for the gravity of the moment, but they were all

I had.

There was no grand speech, no heroic farewell.

Just a quiet acknowledgment of the life she had lived and the peace she had found, however

fleeting.