When the plot-skips players into the game world

Chapter 782: Chapter 163: I am the Answer, What is the Question?

Chapter 782: Chapter 163: I am the Answer, What is the Question?

In the early morning, sunbeams scattered.

Isabel let out a sudden “hmm” as if startled awake, drifting back to consciousness within her dream.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

She rubbed her face vigorously, trying to remove the lingering warmth with her palms.

“Hmm, hmm, ah…”

She made noises like the whining of a small animal, murmuring something.

But soon, Isabel fell silent again.

She spread her arms wide, lying on the vast bed, gazing blankly at the bedroom’s ceiling adorned with red cloth and silver chandeliers, made of silver and tin.

Involuntarily, Isabel grasped at the air beside her.

She had long prepared a pillow for Aiwass, but so far, he had only slept here once.

—Sometimes, Isabel too wished that upon waking, she would find that familiar person beside her, rather than meeting only in dreams.

But on the other hand…

it is always better to reunite in dreams than to struggle to meet after parting.

At least now, every night before she falls asleep, she could look forward to being embraced by Aiwass in another world.

“…But I still miss you.”

She turned slightly, gazing at the cold, empty space by her side, and whispered softly, “I want to see you.”

Next, Aiwass was about to prepare for a dangerous ritual.

To conserve his energy and adjust his state, Isabel would not see him for at least several nights.

Isabel missed Aiwass deeply, but she didn’t wish to ask him to spare some time to see her at night—although she could control her own desires, content just to hold each other and sleep more peacefully.

Yet she made no such request.

For she was more concerned for Aiwass’s safety than her own loneliness for wanting to see him.

A ritual that even Aiwass deemed “very dangerous” unsettled Isabel just hearing about it.

In her mind, Aiwass was nearly all-powerful—he had saved her from such a desperate situation and tamed the chaotic Avalon like a hunting dog.

Even when facing real demons, he only took them seriously, never showing fear or despair.

—But even Aiwass thought the upcoming action would be perilous.

He even refrained from telling Isabel the details of the ritual.

Isabel understood Aiwass well.

This was because Aiwass believed that knowing the details of the ritual would worry Isabel.

To spare her the anxiety of feeling like a loved one was being pushed into an operating room, he stayed silent.

…But conversely, Aiwass’s silence implied that he thought it would worry Isabel, which made her even more anxious.

But there was nothing Isabel could do.

Let alone what she might accomplish—she was not even by Aiwass’s side.

“…All I can do is pray.”

Isabel said softly.

She took a deep breath, flexed her waist, and sat up from the bed.

Her hands respectfully and devoutly interlocked, she knelt amid the covers.

As she bowed her head, her slightly disheveled light golden hair naturally fell down.

“I beseech the Silver-Crowned Dragon, the God with the sacred number seven.

The God who brooks no defiance, who wears the crown and wields the sword…

“Please protect Aiwass, just as you protect your kingdom…”

In an attempt to ease her inner disquiet, Isabel repeated her low prayers for Aiwass.

…

The sun was high, and Isabel, having finished dressing, sat correctly in the queen’s study, focused on reading the gift sent to her by Aiwass via the church.

The Puppet-Face Manual.

Aiwass had told Isabel that if she managed to master this Codex Book, she might find a way to transcend the limitations of space, appearing in Avalon and the Holy Nation simultaneously.

Although Aiwass did not tell Isabel the true utility of the “Puppet-Face Manual” so as not to influence her learning with preconceived notions, Isabel still dedicated herself to studying this Codex Book over the past few days.

It was not solely for the purpose of “offline” meeting with Aiwass…

but also to shed the shackles of a title known as “queen” from herself.

There was another thin booklet placed beside Isabel, titled “Hell’s Metamorphosis: Puppet Play.” This could be considered a reference book for the “Puppet-Face Manual,” or, in other words, a decryption key.

As a Codex Book of the Path of Beauty, its reading naturally required the reader to have a talent for and an ability to adapt to the Path of Beauty—when Isabel flipped through the book, the text on the pages did not form words that could be normally read.

The book did not tell a story.

Instead, it was a diary.

Isabel had always enjoyed writing diaries, so she immediately immersed herself in it.

And the first owner of this diary seemed to also be a queen…

known as the “Queen of Kings.” She was not human but of the Serpentfolk.

The diary used a poetic and profound language to write some incomprehensible words.

However, upon these sentences, additional languages were superimposed.

The second owner of the diary called herself “Xiaolv,” an “archaeology university student from the empire,” who seemed to be investigating the history of the Serpentfolk.

So, she found the replica of this diary and made extensive annotations, and complained about her daily life.

Its third owner was named “John.” He seemed to be a professor in the literature department of the same university, also researching that period of Serpentfolk history.

He discovered Xiaolv’s diary but did not report her; instead, he chatted with her in the margins.

They expressed different opinions regarding the Serpent Queen’s diary and conversed with each other, sharing feelings, exchanging secrets.

But this Codex Book in the Elvish Language had mixed these three different texts together.

Isabel initially thought that the translator had not done a good job, having read the book for two days without understanding it.

It wasn’t until she had a headache from reading that this morning, while flipping through “Hell’s Metamorphosis: Puppet Play” casually…

after a while, a sudden inspiration struck her.

Isabel suddenly realized—it wasn’t that the translator hadn’t done a good job; he had done it too well.

The initial version of this Codex Book must have been a mix of three different handwritings on the same book, and the translator combined them with the same font.

She looked at the slim picture album, searching for each item.

Then, using these individual items to seek words identical to the original text, and starting from that word to read onward.

Consequently, it turned into a completely different sentence with a whole new meaning.

Every sentence was a question; each was a riddle.@@novelbin@@

Though she completely failed to understand the meaning of these riddles, Isabel felt a captivating mysterious attraction.

And as Isabel gazed, entranced, she suddenly understood the incomprehensible words of the “Queen of Kings.”

The incomprehensible words turned out to be the answers to the riddles posed by the “reference book.”

“—The very riddles that initially composed the riddle’s face were, in fact, the answers to the riddle itself!”

Isabel had an epiphany.

And in the moment Isabel fully grasped the secrets of this book, she felt a distortion.

As if breaking free from an illusion—the world around her shattered like a broken windowpane.

Her consciousness was pulled into the Codex Book.

Inside, she saw the alluring Serpent Queen, the naive and romantic university student Xiaolv, the serious yet tender professor John, and many others…

They were part of many stories revolving around this book, narrating the “Serpent Queen’s” tale.

Then they became stories, and afterward, stories developed around this storybook in a perpetual cycle.

Finally, the scene shifted—

—from the very beginning, there were no people at all!

It was merely a collection of masks with different expressions, dancing around the stage.

As the scene danced inwardly, it transformed into the content of another book, with yet more masks appearing on the outside; and then the scene shrank once again…

Within the cycle of one book after another, all masks were connected by transparent thin threads, trailing into the darkness above.

“I ask you, my successor.

“If I am the answer.”

A layered voice echoed in Isabel’s ears: “Then, what is the question?”