Chapter 693: Frozen Trials 6

A week passed.

Snow stared at her reflection in the flowing river.

“…”

The water moved gently, distorting the face looking back at her.

Freckles across her cheeks.

Black, slightly wavy hair falling messily to her shoulders.

Loose skin around her jaw.

A thin frame that clearly needed proper meals.

She looked… ordinary.

No.

Worse than ordinary.

Tired.

Even after seven days of waking up like this, she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

Her entire life, she had been called beautiful.

Perfect.

A princess carved from snow and light.

She never denied it.

She never needed to.

Her beauty was a fact.

Now, when she looked at this face—

There was nothing majestic about it.

Just an ordinary girl.

“Snow! Where are you? Please hurry up! Clean out those plates! More customers are coming and Head Chef is screaming at me right now!”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“Coming!”

She quickly lifted a heavy pan stacked with wet plates.

Water dripped down her sleeves as she wiped them dry with a rough cloth. Her fingers were red from the cold river water.

She hurried inside through the back entrance.

The tavern was loud. Full of smoke, laughter, and the smell of roasted meat.

“Snow!” the chef barked the moment he saw her. “I told you to clean those plates faster! Look at all these muscle heads waiting!”

She glanced toward the front.

A group of large adventurers sat at one of the long tables, armored shoulders bumping against each other, mugs slamming down impatiently.

“Sorry, Chef, haha… the water seemed unclean for a moment, you see…”

“Water unclean?” he snapped. “In a perfectly flowing river next to the church? Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hehehe…”

She forced an awkward laugh.

“Tsk! I don’t have time for this. Go help Luie and Kala at the front. Deliver those dishes!”

“Yes, Chef.”

Kal Karam — the owner and head chef — was a huge man.

Broad shoulders, thick arms, beard covering half his face.

He looked more like a veteran warrior than someone who cooked stew for a living.

With a dry snort, he turned back toward the stove, grabbing a pan with one hand like it weighed nothing.

And Snow—

Once a royal princess.

Once someone who commanded frost and stood above kingdoms.

Now carried plates of roasted meat and stew through a noisy tavern.

For a week, she had tried to understand the trial.

Why this body?

Why this life?

What exactly was being tested?

Her beauty?

Her heart?

Every morning she woke up in a small attic room above the tavern. Every day she worked. Cleaned. Served. Endured.

No monsters.

No magic.

No clear objective.

Just this.

“Snow! Table three!”

“I’m going!”

She moved quickly between tables, careful not to spill anything as rough adventurers laughed and argued loudly.

….

“Uhm… I’ve been wondering this for a while now but… what are you doing?”

At Riley’s question, the Frost Queen paused.

Her fingers were still gently pressing into his cheeks.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing as if she was seriously considering the answer.

After a few seconds of quiet thought, she finally let go of his face and sat back properly.

“…Properly tracing.”

“Tracing?” Riley rubbed his cheeks. They weren’t hurt — just slightly warm from the cold touch.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She folded her hands neatly on the table.

“Because recreation needs to uphold perfection in order to match the truth of beauty.”

“…Right.”

Riley blinked.

That explained absolutely nothing.

The longer he spent time with the Frost Queen, the more distant she felt from the version of her he thought he understood.

When he first met her, she was cold. Distant. Almost untouchable.

Now?

She was still cold.

Still elegant.

But she also randomly grabbed his face every twenty or thirty minutes like she was inspecting a sculpture she was personally carving.

For reference — they were sitting at her “banquet table.”

Though calling it that felt generous.

It was a small square table made of pure white ice. Two frozen chairs facing each other. No decorations. No feast. Just them.

The surrounding hall was vast and empty, but she insisted on calling this arrangement a banquet.

For the past hour, the pattern had repeated itself.

They would talk normally.

Silence would fall.

Then suddenly—

She would lean forward.

Grab his face with both hands.

Gently squeeze his cheeks.

Turn his head slightly left.

Then right.

Sometimes she’d adjust his chin angle.

Study him intensely.

Then nod once to herself.

And return to her seat like nothing happened.

The first time, Riley was too surprised to react.

The second time, he thought maybe it was some strange Frost Queen custom.

By the fifth time, he started to wonder if she was bored.

There was something about her that reminded him of Seo.

Though granted Seo was more openly awkward.

But the Frost Queen had that same strange social disconnect.

Like she understood people in theory… but not in practice.

Still, even Riley’s patience had limits.

“So,” he tried again carefully, “what exactly are you recreating?”

She looked at him calmly.

“You.”

“…Me.”

“Yes.”

“In what sense?”

“In every sense.”

That didn’t make him feel better.

Her pale white eyes scanned his face again, as if measuring symmetry only she could see.

“There are slight imperfections,” she muttered quietly. “Micro-expressions. Inconsistent muscular tension. It disrupts alignment.”

“Alignment of what?”

“The ideal.”

Riley stared at her.

“…You know I’m just a normal guy, right?”

She frowned faintly.

“You are not.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She leaned forward again without warning.

Riley flinched slightly this time.

Her cold fingers cupped his cheeks once more.

She squished them lightly, his lips awkwardly puckering under the pressure.

“Remain still,” she said seriously.

“I am still!”

She ignored him.

Her thumbs adjusted the angle of his jaw.

She leaned closer.

Their faces were only inches apart now.

Her expression was intensely focused — like an artist correcting a final brushstroke.

After a long moment, she let go again.

“…Progress.”

Riley slowly leaned back in his chair.

“I’m starting to feel like a clay model.”

She blinked once.

“…That is not inaccurate.”

He sighed.

Yeah.

He really didn’t understand her at all anymore.

He looked down.

’My tea’s cold now…’

A thin layer of frost had formed along the surface of the once-warm tea in his ice-carved cup.

It wasn’t steaming anymore. It just sat there, untouched, forgotten during yet another unexpected face inspection.

“Do you want to rewarm your tea?”

The Frost Queen asked it casually, as if temperature obeyed her the same way breathing did.

She made a small gesture toward the nearby servants standing silently along the walls.

Riley shook his head and placed the cup down.

“No, it’s fine…”

“Is that so? You’re quite weird for a human.”

I should be the one saying that to you.

He almost said it.

Almost.

But he swallowed the comment.

She wasn’t human.

Not really.

Complaining about her sense of normalcy would be pointless.

He glanced at her again and sighed quietly.

For the past hour, they had done nothing.

A few words here and there.

Long silences.

The occasional cheek-grabbing ritual.

Even their earlier introduction felt strange — polite, distant, unfinished.

Like two rulers meeting for formality rather than two people actually getting to know each other.

Yet she had been nothing but gracious.

Courteous.

Calm.

No hostility. No threats. No visible malice.

Which made it worse.

Riley leaned back slightly in his frozen chair.

She didn’t invite him here for no reason.

That much he was sure of.

And if there was a reason, it didn’t feel like it came from hatred.

But then what?

What did she want?

Every time he tried to ask directly, she would smoothly shift the topic.

Just… subtly.

Like snow sliding off a roof.

He studied her quietly.

The Frost Queen was not someone he could take lightly.

If a fight broke out, he would have to use his divinity.

There was no doubt about that.

She wasn’t an opponent he could handle casually.

And using that power was both a guarantee… and a risk.

Not to mention…

Her generals were just outside the door.

A few dozen meters at most.

Riley could feel them.

Their presence wasn’t hidden.

Heavy.

Alert.

Waiting.

If he made one wrong move — if even his aura shifted the wrong way — they would burst in without hesitation.

And that would be troublesome.

Not because he couldn’t handle them.

But because of how much of himself he had to suppress right now.

If he stopped holding back… this castle wouldn’t stay standing for long.

“Your thoughts are deep…”

Her voice pulled him back.

“…I can’t exactly have light ones in your presence.”

She blinked slowly.

“Your words are well appreciated, but bear no ill will. I can assure you no harm will come to you or your beloved in this castle.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you sure you should be saying that in this place?”

He subtly glanced toward the servants lining the walls.

Toward the massive doors.

Toward the generals standing beyond them, who could most likely hear every word being spoken.

Right now, the Frost Queen was essentially giving him — an intruder — royal hospitality.

And not just any intruder.

He was one of the main reasons her monster army had been decimated.

Her rare-ranked generals? He had nearly wiped them out because of her orders.

She knew that.

They knew that.

Resentment had to be simmering under the surface.

Fueling that resentment wasn’t exactly wise leadership.

Even in a castle ruled by power and strength, loyalty still mattered.

She does realize I’m one of the reasons most of her forces are gone… right?

“Their opinions matter not to me.”

She said it simply.

No hesitation.

No arrogance.

Just fact.

“Is that so…” Riley muttered.

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“In this castle,” she continued calmly, “strength decides position. Nothing more. Nothing less. If they resent you, they may challenge you. If they lose, their resentment becomes silence.”

That wasn’t comforting.

“That’s a very straightforward system,” Riley said dryly.

“It is efficient.”

She truly didn’t care what her subordinates thought — as long as order remained intact.

“Still,” Riley added, “trust isn’t something you ignore so easily.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I do not ignore it. I simply do not depend on it.”

Silence fell between them again.

Cold air drifted lightly across the small table.

For someone who ruled a kingdom of monsters, she spoke with unsettling clarity.

She wasn’t reckless.

She wasn’t naive.

Which made this whole situation even more confusing.

“Then why invite me?” Riley finally asked, his voice more direct this time. “You know what I’ve done. You know what I’m capable of.”

Her eyes softened — just slightly.

“Yes.”

“And yet you sit here alone with me.”

A faint pause.

Then—

“Because,” she said quietly, “you are necessary.”

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