How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 722: Oh Principal

"...S-Seven hundred and twenty-two million... in just four days... and that’s not even counting the additional five hundred million from incoming sponsorships..."

Alia’s voice trembled slightly as she read from the report in her hands, her usual composed tone slipping just enough to show how unreal the numbers felt.

"If we include the projected outco of the upcoming investor eting... we can reasonably estimate a total of around 1.5 billion."

A pause.

She swallowed.

"And even after deducting the initial investnt cost of roughly three hundred million... the academy would still be left with an estimated net revenue of one billion."

"..."

"..."

Heavy, suffocating silence filled the eting hall.

Alia slowly lowered the report, her eyes flickering across the room—and what she saw only made it worse.

No one spoke.

Not the departnt heads.

Not the senior professors.

Not even the board mbers seated at the front.

They just... stared.

So at the docunts in front of them.

So at nothing at all.

Trying to process it.

Because this—

This didn’t make sense.

The Continental Grand Festival was designed to generate profit. That much was true. Compared to Lun Academy’s usual grand festival, this one was ant to attract more attention, more sponsors, more outside interest.

More money.

That part had been expected.

But this?

This wasn’t just "more."

This was absurd.

Seven hundred million in four days—without even counting the opening events’ revenue yet.

The numbers alone were enough to make even the most experienced administrators question if there had been a mistake sowhere.

But there wasn’t.

Every figure had been checked.

Twice.

Three tis.

And it only made things more real.

One of the senior professors leaned back slowly in his chair, letting out a quiet breath as he ran a hand over his face.

"...This is..."

He didn’t even finish the sentence.

Across the table, one of the departnt heads let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"...We’re not dreaming, right?"

No one answered.

Because they were all thinking the sa thing.

For the past few months, the academy had been bleeding money.

Scandals, internal conflicts, damage control—issue after issue forced them to dip deeper into their treasury.

Resources were stretched thin, funds redirected constantly just to keep things stable.

The amount they had spent trying to maintain their reputation alone was already ridiculous.

And yet now—

In just a few days—

They had made it all back.

And more.

Far more.

Alia steadied herself, tightening her grip on the report as she continued.

"With the current projections... not only can we fully recover the losses from recent incidents, but we will also have enough surplus to..."

She hesitated for just a second.

"...to distribute bonuses across all staff levels."

That—

That finally broke the silence.

Murmurs spread across the hall almost instantly.

Low at first.

Then louder.

Disbelief turning into excitent.

Relief.

Because for the first ti in a while—

They weren’t thinking about losses.

They weren’t thinking about damage control.

They were thinking about growth.

About opportunity.

About just how far this montum could go if it kept building.

At the head of the table, one of the executives leaned forward slightly, fingers interlocked as a slow smile ford on his face.

"...This festival..."

His voice was quiet—but carried weight.

"...might just be the most profitable decision this academy has ever made."

And judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces—

No one disagreed.

"Our data suggests that most of this profit can be linked to the recent interview proposal Principal Leilah implented,"

Alia continued, flipping to the next page, though at this point she barely needed to read it.

"Public response has been... overwhelming. The interviews between contestants before their official matches have gained significant traction—especially those where there’s visible tension between participants."

A few people in the room exchanged glances.

They knew exactly which interviews she was referring to.

Alia adjusted her glasses slightly and went on,

"It’s not just within the academy either. Our outreach proposals to other academies and even foreign institutions have been well received. Several of them are already expressing interest in future collaborations... particularly for live broadcast rights."

A small pause.

"And the Luminaria Group’s largest trading branch has also requested a formal eting with us."

That—

That drew a visible reaction.

Even among the higher-ups.

Dean Gale, seated among the departnt heads, frowned slightly as he leaned back in his chair. His arms crossed loosely as he processed what he just heard.

The scale was growing.

Faster than expected.

This wasn’t just a successful event anymore—this was turning into sothing international.

His gaze shifted to the side, landing on the one person responsible for pushing this direction in the first place.

Leilah Grace.

The principal.

"...So it really all started from that idea, huh..." he muttered quietly to himself.

anwhile, Alia finished her report, straightening slightly.

"That concludes the current summary. Additionally, with the finals scheduled to resu tomorrow, we can expect another spike in revenue." She glanced down briefly. "Though... we may need to allocate funds for increased security personnel to maintain order."

She paused, then looked up.

"However, given our current standing, even that can be covered without issue."

A small breath.

"...What would you like us to do next, Principal Leilah?"

All eyes shifted.

At the head of the table sat Leilah Grace.

Despite her age, there was nothing frail about her presence. As one of the continent’s few archmages, her appearance remained that of a youthful, elegant woman. Her long hair rested neatly over her shoulders, and her violet eyes carried a quiet authority as they swept across the room.

For a mont, she said nothing.

Just observed.

asured.

Then—

She smiled.

A calm, almost effortless smile.

"What do you an, what should we do?" she said lightly.

A few people straightened instinctively.

"We proceed as planned."

Alia blinked.

"But... the budgeting—"

Leilah waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing aside sothing trivial.

"We can ignore most of that now, can’t we?" she said. "At this point, we’re no longer constrained the way we were before."

Her gaze settled on Alia, steady but not unkind.

"I’ve already entrusted you with full authority over those areas. As my right hand, you don’t need to hesitate."

Alia stiffened slightly.

"T-that’s..."

She trailed off, clearly caught off guard.

Because what Leilah was saying wasn’t just reassurance.

It was responsibility.

Complete trust.

And in a room filled with the academy’s highest authorities... that kind of trust carried weight.

Leilah’s smile softened just a little.

"Handle it however you see fit," she added calmly. "You’ve done more than enough to earn that much."

As the room slowly filled with voices—relief, excitent, disbelief all mixing together—there was one person holding herself together more than anyone else.

Leilah.

On the outside, she sat composed, fingers lightly resting against the table, her usual calm smile in place.

On the inside—

Ahh... what is this...

Her eyes softened just a little as she listened to the numbers being thrown around again and again.

...this feeling...

It almost didn’t feel real.

Has all that work... finally paid off?

For a mont, she nearly laughed.

Not a light chuckle.

Sothing far more unrestrained.

Because no one in this room truly understood just how much she had put into keeping this academy afloat.

The endless etings.

The forced smiles.

The shaless negotiations with foreign leaders who thought they could take advantage of the academy’s situation. The constant pressure of maintaining reputation while scandals kept piling up one after another.

And the worst part—

Begging.

Not directly, of course.

But close enough.

Lowering herself just enough in every conversation to secure funding, to keep things running, to make sure everything didn’t collapse under its own weight.

Day after day.

Without pause.

There were tis she genuinely considered walking away from it all.

Leaving the position.

Letting soone else deal with the ss.

...It was exhausting.

And yet—

Now?

All of it felt like it had led to this mont.

A complete turnaround.

A blessing she hadn’t even dared to expect this soon.

...Maybe I can finally breathe a little.

The thought alone almost made her laugh again.

Almost.

But she held it in.

Because no matter how good things looked, she wasn’t the type to get carried away.

And more importantly—

She wasn’t shaless enough to take all the credit.

As the conversations in the room grew louder, Leilah lifted her hand slightly.

"Ahem."

The simple sound was enough.

The room quieted almost imdiately.

Her gaze moved across everyone, calm and steady.

"Everyone, we’ve had a very successful run with this year’s event," she began, her tone smooth and composed. "I would like to see similar results next year as well."

A few nods followed.

"We don’t need to overcomplicate things. Proper managent and consistency will be more than enough." Her eyes softened slightly. "I trust all of you to handle that."

There was a brief pause before she added,

"And please... don’t direct too much praise toward ."

That caught a few people off guard.

"While I did implent the broadcasting initiative, the original idea didn’t co from ."

A small smile touched her lips.

"It was Princess Snow who brought it to my attention."

A few murmurs spread through the room.

"If anything, she deserves the recognition—not ."

Leilah then turned her attention to Alia.

"Alia, allocating five to ten percent of our current profit won’t affect our operations, correct?"

Alia nodded after a quick calculation.

"Yes, it won’t pose any issues."

"Good." Leilah leaned back slightly. "Then transfer that amount to the royal treasury of the Germonia Empire."

A few heads lifted at that.

"And make sure His Majesty is properly inford," she continued calmly. "Fra it clearly as a gesture of gratitude... toward his daughter."

Alia straightened.

"Understood, Principal."

Leilah gave a small nod, her expression settling back into its usual calm.

"Well then, I’m sure you all have plenty more to discuss," she said, rising from her seat. "But I’ll be taking my leave first. Please, make yourselves comfortable—even without ."

A few people tried to say sothing, but she was already moving. Clean, efficient, no hesitation. The mont she stepped out of the hall, the noise behind her faded, replaced by the quiet of the corridor.

And just like that—

The weight lifted.

By the ti she reached her office, she didn’t bother with appearances anymore. The door shut behind her, and she walked straight to her desk before dropping into her chair.

Then—

A smile spread across her face.

Wide.

Unrestrained.

"...Hah."

It slipped out before she could stop it.

Everything that had just happened... it still felt unreal. The numbers, the reactions, the shift in atmosphere—it was all too clean, too perfect.

"...This is actually happening..."

She leaned back slightly, letting herself sink into the chair, one hand coming up to cover her eyes for a mont.

After everything—

The stress.

The pressure.

The constant balancing act just to keep the academy standing—

This felt like a miracle.

"With this much..." she muttered under her breath, the smile still there, softer now but no less satisfied, "maybe I can finally resign comfortably..."

The thought lingered.

Tempting.

"...All I need is a proper protégé, right?"

Soone capable enough to take over.

Soone she wouldn’t have to worry about leaving things to.

Soone—

—that might already exist.

Her smile deepened slightly at that thought.

But before she could sink any further into it—

The door opened.

Abrupt.

Without warning.

"Hello. Sorry for the sudden intrusion, Principal... it’s been a while."

Leilah blinked.

Then sat up almost instantly.

"P-Princess Snow?"

The shift in her tone was imdiate.

"You’re back? Where have you been?"

Snow stepped in casually, as if nothing was out of place, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"I’ll explain that in a bit," she said, waving it off lightly. "More importantly..."

She stepped forward and placed a set of docunts onto the desk.

"I stopped by the student council room earlier this morning."

Her eyes lifted, eting Leilah’s.

"These..."

A small pause.

"...are they real?"

Leilah glanced down at the papers.

Then back up.

"Yes."

That was all she said.

But the way her lips curved—

The way her shoulders relaxed just slightly—

It said more than enough.

For a split second, she looked like she might burst out laughing right there.

"A revenue of over a billion..."

Snow’s eyes moved calmly across the docunts, her expression barely changing, though there was a faint hint of interest in her voice.

"That’s... impressive. And a bit surprising."

She flipped a page, scanning through the numbers again.

"It seems the academy managed quite well without my involvent. Financially speaking, at least."

Leilah let out a small, awkward laugh, still riding the high from earlier.

"Y-Yes, things have been going rather smoothly lately," she said, trying to keep her composure. "Actually, since you were the one who proposed the idea in the first place... if you’d like, you can take a few more days off from your student council duties."

Snow didn’t even look up.

"It’s fine, Principal. I don’t mind working."

She placed the docunts down neatly on the desk.

"Anyway, that’s not why I ca."

Leilah’s smile faltered just slightly.

"...Oh?"

Snow lifted her gaze.

"We need to talk about the procedural transfer of profit from our last contract agreent."

"...C-Contract?"

Snow tilted her head slightly.

"Don’t you rember?"

She reached into her folder and pulled out a single sheet, placing it in front of Leilah with a soft tap.

"When I pitched the idea to you... I had you sign this."

Leilah’s eyes dropped.

Then widened.

"It clearly states that I hold ninety percent of the total earnings from live broadcast revenue," Snow continued calmly. "Your signature is here. Mine as well. I believe you were given a copy at the ti."

"W-Wait... when did I—"

Her voice trailed off.

Because she did rember.

That day.

The conversation.

Snow bringing up the broadcasting idea with that sa calm tone. The proposal sounding interesting—but not this significant. And the paper...

Leilah had signed it.

Casually.

Without thinking too much about it.

Because at the ti, the festival was just another attempt to recover losses.

There was no way she could’ve predicted this outco.

No way she thought it would turn into this.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the docunt.

"...You..."

Snow didn’t react to her expression.

Instead, she spoke just as calmly as before.

"Please transfer my share to my personal account."

A small pause.

"Not the royal treasury."

"...W-What?"

The words barely left Leilah’s mouth.

And in that mont—

It felt like sothing cracked.

That perfect sense of victory she had just been enjoying—

Gone.

And just like that—

Leilah’s world fell apart.