Prologue
I'd never spared a glance for romance fantasy games, but one character from a fleeting ad kept haunting my thoughts. Drawn in like a moth to flame, I hunted down the teaser and hit play.
As the trailer rolled, a brutally beautiful snowy expanse unfolded across the monitor.
A long silver-haired woman—Yuria Crescent—stood amid the drifts, clutching the lifeless body of a black-haired man, the Northern Grand Duke Kardel Harteon, tears streaming down her face.
Lament in the Blizzard
The trailer swiftly panned through Yuria's tragic backstory like a grim panorama.
The root of all her misery: Kardel Harteon.
He knew she loved him, yet exploited it mercilessly. To him, the saintess's worth lay solely in her Holy Power; he treated her as mere machinery to sustain the North's barrier.
Even when she defied her family's opposition to offer him an ancient mana stone, Kardel offered no thanks—just a cold purple gaze as he looked down at her.
"This should hold off the southern dogs' assaults. I'll expect more next time."
Despite her devotion, he gave her not a shred of warmth, shoving her into peril time and again.
But karma caught up. He tumbled into a trap laid by the Demon God Cult and met his end, dragging Yuria down with him.
The screen closed in on Yuria collapsing with his corpse in her arms, blood pooling beneath her—then shifted to a radiant, holy light descending from the heavens.
The Goddess of the North.
Manifesting in the mortal realm, she caressed the dying woman's cheek and whispered into her ear.
"My beloved child, your end is truly heartbreaking. I shall send you back to the past to set all right."
The goddess's enveloping light surged into Yuria's body. With the image of rewinding clock hands, her soul transitioned to the 1st round—and the teaser faded out.
"How could I not play this now?"
In the game, players chose one of three protagonists—Tia, Yuria, or Seren—either to pursue the male leads or to dismantle the Demon God Cult to reach an ending.
Most picked Tia Everett, the Spirit King contractor who could charm the guys.
But after that teaser, I'd made up my mind.
"I'm getting a happy ending with Yuria Crescent, no matter what."
I clicked her on the character select screen.
Playable Character: Yuria Crescent
Difficulty: Hell — Break the Infinite Regression
I wanted to see that tear-streaked face from the trailer smile. So...
"Let's do this."
From then on, I grinded Yuria's route day and night. Other players begged me to quit—it was hopeless—but that only fueled my stubbornness.
There had to be a way. A happy ending where she could smile.
"Yuria, stop chasing after that trash."
Playing as her, I never once approached Kardel's direction.
His quests piled up in the quest log, but anything tied to Harteon? Ignored. I cleared everything else methodically.
My goal: Equip Yuria with the power to solo-wipe the Demon God Cult, no Kardel needed.
I devoured guides, dragged her through hidden dungeons for total clears, hogged every magic-boosting item solo.
Under my control, Yuria buried tens of thousands of southern troops in an avalanche, incinerated cult priests and beasts in sacred flames.
When Kardel fawned over Tia's spirit arts, my Yuria didn't pine—instead, she crushed high-ranking cultists and forced arrogant southern ducal houses to their knees.
At last, she overcame every death-forced regression, unlocking a brand-new ending.
Toppling the trash Northern Grand Duke, confining him to a remote villa, and claiming the throne as Northern Ruler herself.
The euphoria when that screen popped up... unforgettable.
I was certain: I'd freed her from that hellish tragedy.
Or so I thought.
I had a dream.
The Yuria in it—unlike the triumphant figure from the ending—sobbed like a child, burrowing into my arms.
And dream-me embraced her trembling, weeping form as if I were her sole savior.
"This cold throne wasn't what I wanted."
Face buried in my chest, she murmured through tear-soaked whispers.
"Through countless regressions, I just wanted to hear you say you loved me... even once."
Her sky-blue eyes, gazing up at me, brimmed with raw yearning—for me.
She guided my hand to her cheek, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring my warmth.
"Next time we meet, just look at me with kind eyes. Stroke my hair, tell me I did well, that I worked hard. More than anything, I need your warmth."
With those desperate words, dream-Yuria dissolved into white light.
…
And when I awoke, I had become the Northern Grand Duke who'd tormented her so: Kardel Harteon.