When the plot-skips players into the game world Chapter 783

Chapter 783: Chapter 164 “Puppet-Face Manual Chapter 783: Chapter 164 “Puppet-Face Manual Isabel stared into the darkness, those tales surfacing in her heart, fleeting past like bubbly phantoms.

Her consciousness dulled within the illusion, as if dreaming, unable to precisely control her own thoughts.

“…Is there really a correct answer to this question?”

This doubt erged in her heart.

But evidently, that wasn’t the answer.

Hence, after much hesitation, Isabel still cautiously spoke up, “Puppet-Face…

who is it?”

“Heh.”

That deep laughter ca through, “Not bad nor good.

“Insightful yet not mad enough; perceptive but too clear-headed.

...

You are not fit to inherit all of .”

Just like the answer Isabel gave, a humanoid shape appeared within the darkness.

——That was the enchanting and glamorous Serpent Queen from the original tale!

In her hands, she manipulated countless fine threads, and these fine threads were connected to the sagging masks.

From the very beginning, those stories she told “in the future” were all under her control.

As the fine threads in the Serpent Queen’s hands steadily rged, the surrounding pitch-dark scene constricted once again.

The dark and mysterious space transford into an altar amidst a sky filled with yellow sand.

All that surrounded her was an illusion.

Isabel suddenly realized this.

The Serpentfolk stood silently in dense numbers around her, each with a mask on their face.

Only the Serpent Queen standing before Isabel had no mask on her face.

——No, that’s not right!

Isabel was suddenly startled.

She saw the Serpent Queen flash a coquettish smile, suddenly reaching her hands towards her own face.

The Queen removed a pure white faceless mask.

Beneath the mask was another Isabel.

No serpent tail, no white robe, no golden crown, and none of that red eye shadow.

It was another “Isabel” dressed exactly as Isabel was, with an identical face!

The only difference was that that “Isabel” had vivid lipstick on.

Her smile remained captivating, brimming with confidence.

…Then who am I?

“If you are …”

The Isabel from the illusion subconsciously beca puzzled, “Then who am I?”

The “Isabel” across her lightly laughed, affixing the mask onto Isabel’s face.

Her fingernails trailed across Isabel’s face, the sharp nails cutting the skin, gliding from her forehead to the root of her left ear.

It was as if she wanted to peel off Isabel’s face along the contour of this mask.

She whispered softly, “I am you…

“——You are .”

And Isabel, in a flash of realization looking down, saw only a thick serpent tail.

In that instant, an indescribable fear erged in Isabel’s heart, she sharply inhaled, and suddenly woke up.

Isabel was drenched in a cold sweat.

In a daze, she raised her head, only to find herself still sitting at the desk.

She had not beco the Serpent Queen, nor had she ever left Avalon.

——But in her hands, there still quietly lay the pure white faceless mask.

Fresh blood stained one side of the mask, and on the left cheek of Isabel was a faint arc-like mark from a shallow cut.

Under Isabel’s gaze, the blood-stained mask twisted and deford, eventually taking on the downcast look of Isabel herself.

“Is this…

Puppet-Face?”

Isabel muttered softly to herself.

Mimicking the actions of the Serpent Queen from the illusion, she gently released the mask.

The mask fell of its own accord.

As it dropped, an ethereal fine thread suddenly appeared, connecting it to the middle finger of Isabel’s right hand.

In that mont, Isabel felt a mystical connection with the mask.

She looked towards the corner of the study, curious about the two Papal Guards who were looking her way, a thought suddenly arising in her heart.

Isabel beckoned one of them over with a beaming smile, “Ke’er, co here for a mont.”

“How may I serve you, Your Majesty?”

The short-haired elf girl who appeared to be about the sa age as Isabel approached.

“Try on this mask.”

Isabel looked on with anticipation.

“`

…

After knocking on the door and being granted permission, Mycroft Hers hurried into the queen’s study with his briefcase and took his usual seat across from her.

The man, who usually appeared as carefree and corpulent as a blubbery seal, now seed sowhat anxious.

He rubbed his scalp, which was beginning to show signs of severe hair loss, and complained, “Your Majesty, you really should attend to so of these matters yourself—I’m not quite sure about so of these docunts.”

As he spoke, he placed his entire briefcase on the desk and pushed it toward her.

Isabel, sitting across the desk, took the briefcase and looked up, “Where is the item you were supposed to fetch for ?”

“The minister’s gift is also inside—it’s an Elven Harp.”

As Mycroft spoke, Isabel had already taken out the silvery-white harp.

“How beautiful!”

She couldn’t help but exclaim.

The small silvery-white harp was adorned with decorations of leaves and vines, and nestled among them were two deep red flowers—resembling roses.

They were carved from a single block of gemstone.

Above them was an amber gemstone as big as an eyeball.

Near the gemstone hung a blue-and-white silk ribbon.

“Anastasia, may you be well…”

Isabel read the Elvish inscription.

Normally, she would have asked subconsciously, “Who is Anastasia?” However, Aiwass had shared his experiences with her in a dream the previous night.

Therefore, Isabel rely sighed, “That girl’s wish has also been fulfilled, after all, this is the place with the most Gryphons in the whole world…”

She looked at Mycroft and reassured him, “Don’t worry, Lord Hers.

I’ve already finished the Codex Book, and I will take care of the backlog of docunts as quickly as possible.”

“It’s about ti you showed them who’s boss.”

Mycroft, sowhat dissatisfied, said, “Not long after Minister Aiwass left Avalon, those people beca active one by one—now the disputes in the Round Table Hall are more intense than ever.

Or do you plan to maintain the political image that you and Minister Aiwass are enemies?”

“It can’t stay hidden for much longer.”

Isabel said lightly, “Let it be—for now.

When I officially take the throne, everything will beco clear.

I rember you said that only the Knights believe we have a conflict while the public is spreading rumors of our affair?

Then you can instruct the newspapers to intensify that narrative.

As for the argunts…

let them argue.

They always need soone to argue with; it’s better they argue over this ridiculous reason than so intractable problems.”

“There’s no problem on the public’s side, on the contrary, the reaction has been quite good.

As you expected, rather than focusing on complicated political struggles involving many interests, people prefer stories that are artistically written, easy to understand, and simple in plot—a romantic love story.

The novel you anonymously wrote, based on you and Minister Aiwass as the protagonists, has passed the review; without knowing your identity, several editors gave it rather good evaluations, so it’s being prepared for printing.”

“However…”

Mycroft said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his sweat, “Personally, I would suggest that you better not drink too much in public.”

“…What’s wrong?”

Isabel was taken aback, “I rember my grandmother often drank with the people and everyone liked it…

Is my image not approachable enough?

Or do I look too young, not of age to drink?”

“Oh, that’s not the issue.

The main thing is that you never had a habit of drinking before, and ever since Minister Aiwass left, you’ve started drinking daily.”

Mycroft said with a wry smile, wiping his sweat again, “Now, the commonfolk say that you had a falling out with Minister Aiwass, and that’s why he angrily left Avalon to find Miss Aleister in Star Antimony; while you, on the other hand, drown your sorrows in drink daily, having once accidentally said sothing like ‘Drinking too much makes see Aiwass’…”

A wave of numbness washed over Isabel’s scalp, “What is all this nonsense…”

She pondered with a contorted face for a while but couldn’t think of a way to refute the rumors.

“…Forget it, it doesn’t matter.

After all, when Aiwass returns, everything will beco clear.”

Isabel smacked her lips and gave up overthinking it.

Rather than worry about these things, she might as well pray for Aiwass a bit more—perhaps the Silver-Crowned Dragon would hear her!

She looked up at Mycroft with a smile, “Tell , do you see anything odd about ?”

“…Have you applied an Illusion Technique?”

Mycroft imdiately guessed why Isabel would ask such a question.

Though he guessed Isabel’s motives, he looked her over carefully, pondered for a mont, and still shook his head, “I can’t quite tell; there are no obvious inconsistencies.

Could you be more specific?

Which part should I look for a sense of incongruity?”

“To be more specific…”

Isabel said, reaching for her face.

Then, she took off the mask.

Beneath the mask was a short-haired Elf girl, affectionately known as “Ke’er.”

Her features, deanor, clothing, height, and hairstyle had all changed simultaneously.

Ke’er waved at Mycroft with a candid gesture, showing a bright smile that was completely different from Isabel’s.

At that mont, Isabel pushed open the wardrobe door and jumped down from inside the study’s wardrobe.

“…Could you tell she wasn’t ?”

Isabel followed up on her previous question, inquiring.

Seeing this, Mycroft was montarily stunned.

Noticing the genuine astonishnt on his face, Isabel’s lips curved slightly upward.

She smiled contentedly, “In that case, I’ll trouble you to make another trip…

Take this mask to the Cathedral of Candle Master and deliver it to Aiwass.

“—Rest assured, I’ll handle these docunts properly.

Thank you for your trouble.”

“…As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Mycroft rose, resigned to give a courteous bow.

“`