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 na is Aiwass, don’t call 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 sothing, “Aiwass, what are you doing here?”

“— He ca to find , Miss Nilim.”

A sowhat weary but still steady voice ca 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 mont, 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 sothing that fundantally can’t be changed — because if you designate ‘Joyous Spirit’ as the scientific na for fairies, then the term they hate would beco ‘Joyous Spirit.’ They simply detest being defined or studied by others.

This was probably the fundantal 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 tis and seeing that Aiwass didn’t budge, Nilim huffed and transford into a gust of wind, slipping into the gaps of Aiwass’s hair.

“Let introduce you, Aiwass.”

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

Yunus, my client.

I am here to help him with so difficulties — and I have asked you to co because this matter might need a priest to resolve.”

That was a man Aiwass had never seen before.

He had a shiny, rounded head like a boiled egg, pale skin, slightly chubby cheeks that made him seem non-threatening, and large, round, child-like bright black eyes.

His face bore a lively, carefree, and optimistic joy.

The most noticeable feature on his face was a pair of black moustaches curled upward at the edges, like a cat’s mouth.

He was an entire head shorter than Sherlock, looking like a small potato.

The mont she saw him, Lily felt a strong hesitation and shock.

She had previously learned from Aiwass that “Yunus’s” real identity was Isabel’s father, Prince Albert.

But this man, who looked comically like he had stepped out of a circus, made it impossible for her to connect him with the frail and beautiful Isabel.

As for Aiwass, he showed no reaction.

Because he knew that this was actually “Yunus’s” face.

Albert had used an Illusion Technique to hide his true appearance, changing himself into the image of his friend Yunus as a way to evade fear and shirk responsibility.

“Ha, ha, ha!”

Yunus let out a rhythmic laugh, his dark eyes shimring as he skillfully strumd the instrunt, effortlessly playing a lively and vibrant tune.

“I am Yunus, Joyful Yunus; esteed bishop, oh no, Archbishop, I have long heard of your na!”

The way Yunus spoke was rather odd.

It wasn’t quite like normal speech, but it wasn’t singing or reciting poetry either.

Though it sotis missed the beat and didn’t rhy, there was this inexplicable feel of “a raw version of rap.” It was like the spoken parts of a musical, filled with emotion.

“It’s the good person with the beautiful singing!”

Upon hearing his voice, Miss Nilim imdiately popped out from Aiwass’s hair, revealing a small head: “I could occasionally hear your singing from ho!

So I ca looking for you!”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

Upon hearing this, Yunus let out a rhythmic three-part laugh, “Such flattery is too generous; I’m flattered; thank you, little Miss, for the praise, I never thought my singing could reach the Land of Joy.”

“Pleasant to listen to—and you should address as Miss Nilim.

I’m almost of age now!”

Nilim contended, and then she began to sing.

Her voice was clear and lodious, like flowing water—if she sang hymns, it could cleanse the soul; and if she sang ballads, it would remind people of the carefree sunshine of the countryside.

And Aiwass and the others imdiately quieted down to listen to her sing.

Contrary to her lodious voice was the song itself…

a rather lancholic and lonely song of a traveler, also completely at odds with the na “Joyful Yunus.” The lyrics spoke of a traveler who couldn’t return ho, longing for his holand whenever he saw the foreign moon.

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

Sohow, the chestnut trees around them had blossod.

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 sa as at ho” 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 dread 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 ca Lily, and lastly was Sherlock, sowhat 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 ters had already blood.

“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 t, 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 na 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 by Isabel, right?

Aiwass trembled slightly within.