When the plot-skips players into the game world

Chapter 748

Chapter 748: Chapter 133 Yunus: Your necklace looks familiar Chapter 748: Chapter 133 Yunus: Your necklace looks familiar “Then I’ll give you a gift later too!”

Nilim said earnestly, “I’ve got it, my human friend!”

“My name is Aiwass, don’t call me human.

Just like I wouldn’t call you fairy, okay?”

Aiwass held up his palm and spoke seriously to her.

Nilim flew over, hugged Aiwass’s nose, and kissed Aiwass — but Aiwass didn’t feel anything, it was even a bit like being bitten by a mosquito.

“Mm!

Aiwass!”

She said happily, “My friend, Aiwass!”

But Nilim quickly realized something, “Aiwass, what are you doing here?”

“— He came to find me, Miss Nilim.”

A somewhat weary but still steady voice came from inside.

A walking stick tapped against the soft soil, and boots swept over fallen leaves as Sherlock strolled out at a leisurely pace.

In that moment, Nilim’s fur bristled.

...

She disappeared in a flash from the spot and then appeared behind Aiwass.

Her wings flapped noisily as she clutched a strand of Aiwass’s hair and yelled, “It’s the bad guy!

Bad guy Sherlock!”

Aiwass extended a finger subtly and tapped Nilim’s head gently, as if to pat her, while he asked Sherlock, “What did you do to them?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Nothing much, just said the wrong thing — we were having a nice chat, and I misspoke.”@@@@

Aiwass instantly understood.

It must have been Sherlock forgetting the fairy taboo, and a single utterance of “fairy” had set things off.

It’s something that fundamentally can’t be changed — because if you designate ‘Joyous Spirit’ as the scientific name for fairies, then the term they hate would become ‘Joyous Spirit.’ They simply detest being defined or studied by others.

This was probably the fundamental contradiction between the Path of Wisdom and the Path of Beauty.

“Don’t hang out with the bad guy, Aiwass!

I don’t want to play with the bad guy!”

Nilim, puffed up with anger, clung to Aiwass’s hair, trying her best to pull him away.

But no matter how hard she tried, she could at most give Aiwass a very slight tugging sensation — even less significant than a breeze.

After tugging a couple of times and seeing that Aiwass didn’t budge, Nilim huffed and transformed into a gust of wind, slipping into the gaps of Aiwass’s hair.

“Let me introduce you, Aiwass.”

Sherlock spoke and stepped half a pace aside to reveal the person behind him, “This is Mr.

But Yunus didn’t let his smile fade, instead, he accompanied her by playing what was essentially a modified “guitar,” with a quiet and melancholic melody flowing from it.

Somehow, the chestnut trees around them had blossomed.

The strong fragrance of chestnut flowers steeped in the sunlight before the glow gradually faded.

The sky turned to night, and The Sun gave way to the cold Moonlight.

Soon, Yunus was joining in with Nilim’s singing, strumming the guitar while uttering a deep, echoing voice to harmonize.

His lyrics were very simple, repeating “I saw the moon, the same as at home” after every line.

The rest were snippets of his life as a traveler, his experiences and observations—”Today I bought another pancake, but the filling wasn’t as generous as my mother’s”; “I dreamed I was playing chess with my father, perhaps he’s feeling lonely in the Dream Realm”; “I walked for ten hours in the wild today, yet I still couldn’t find a place to stay”—things like that.

They were bittersweet yet mundane lines, unadorned, even vulgar, but they struck a chord with the listener.

Even though Nilim and Yunus hadn’t practiced together before, Nilim instinctively transitioned to the harmony, allowing Yunus to take over as the lead singer.

And Yunus quickly finished the entire song, then once again bowed to the audience with a cheerful laugh.

Aiwass was the first to start clapping, followed by the excited applause of Fairy Nilim.

Then came Lily, and lastly was Sherlock, somewhat reluctant.

Aiwass knew that Sherlock didn’t appreciate this style of folk song much.

He liked the violin, music that conjured images of moonlight, flowing water, lakes, and swans in graceful compositions, or pieces that could make one feel the fiery spirit of defiance.

By now the moon in the sky had turned back into The Sun, and night had reverted to day.

But the chestnut trees in a radius of about twenty meters had already bloomed.

“May I drink wine, Bishop?”

Yunus looked at Aiwass with shining eyes—or more accurately, at the necklace hanging around Aiwass’s neck—extending a respectful and earnest invitation, “Although we have just met, I feel as if we have known each other in a past life!

I wish to dine with you, lunch would do as well.

A young Archbishop like you, I want to hear your stories!”

“Of course, Mr.

Yunus,”

Aiwass bowed slightly in greeting, “My name is Aiwass Moriarty.”

“So you are that Moriarty—I’ve heard your stories, your battles with demons are also in the newspapers; but I have never heard the account from the person themselves, perhaps I might be fortunate enough to write a song for you?”

Yunus eagerly approached Aiwass, bowed slightly, and extended both hands to hold Aiwass’s.

And Aiwass clasped Yunus’s hands in return, responding warmly and earnestly, “You are a well-known Righteous Knight, Mr.

Yunus.

I shall spare no detail.”

That reaction...

he must have recognized the necklace given to me by Isabel, right?

Aiwass trembled slightly within.