When the plot-skips players into the game world

What do you mean by ’whatever I like is fine’?

"This is yours, Aiwass," Isabel murmured softly. Discover more content at novelbuddy

"Yes. Albert’s, Isabel’s, Ligeia’s... I’ve already knitted theirs,"

the old lady said with a smile, handing the neatly folded sweater to Aiwass: "The last one is for you."

"...For me?"

Aiwass was stunned for a moment, subconsciously taking it.

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He unfolded it and found it to be a sleeveless V-neck checkered sweater. Thorns were embroidered along the chest, shoulders, and sleeve cuffs. It was suitable to wear in the spring, with a shirt underneath and a tie allowed as well.

It was indeed not the type Isabel could wear. It was clearly a men’s sweater, and it fit Aiwass just right.

Holding the sweater, Aiwass fell silent for a while.

A special feeling welled up inside him.

It was like the feeling when he was a child, being taught to write by Lily holding his hand, stroke by stroke; it was also like the feeling he had when the reticent Edward bought Aiwass a birthday cake for the first time. Something like an electric current surged up from his tailbone, causing his spine to tingle repeatedly while a warm flow filled him.

Aiwass suddenly realized... the worries he had before no longer existed.

—There was no need to ask about the Queen’s attitude towards this matter.

It was also in this moment he understood that in this world... he had never received a handmade sweater from an elder.

Perhaps his biological mother would have knitted one for him — but she was dead.

If his foster father had had a wife or mother, they might also have knitted one for him — but they too were dead.

And his foster father would not give such a gift.

It’s not that he wouldn’t give gifts. But all the gifts he gave were certainly "useful" and "valuable."

However, this sweater suddenly reminded Aiwass of his mother in his previous life.

He too once had a father, a mother, grandparents.

For the first time, Aiwass felt his nose stinging.

Ever since he arrived in this world, learned to speak, and knew his name... it seemed that he had never cried.

But now, for a moment, he felt like crying.

"Because I think..."

The old lady said softly, her voice a murmur: "You are already a big figure in Avalon, Aiwass. Your future will be hard, and it will get harder. But to me, you are still a child... you’re still young, you’re only eighteen years old...

"I was thinking, what kind of gift could be given to an adult and also given to a child... I think a sweater is best. I thought maybe you had never received such a gift before. But as a child... whatever others have, I think you should have too.

"Sorry, Aiwass. My handiwork might not be very good, after all, I only recently started learning. I’m old, my hands shake a bit, and my eyes aren’t as good. But I think the size should be right, after all, I did study painting before... ah, at times like this, I regret that I goofed off with Meg in the past and didn’t study properly..."

The Queen muttered on. She did not sound like the wise Monarch who had ruled the state for decades, but more like some ordinary, somewhat chatty old lady.

Aiwass felt a warm flow in his heart. It was like drinking hot soup in the winter.

Yet the usually eloquent Aiwass, now holding the sweater, lips slightly pursed, was completely engulfed in silence.

He stood aside, focusing intently, quietly listening. The fiery pride that usually blazed within him seemed to slowly be smoothed over by something.

—From the moment Aiwass entered, Ligeia had been intently staring at Aiwass’s pupils.

Having reached the Third Energy Level, she was acutely aware that Lily had not transcended the Path level.

She also clearly saw, in the dazzling purplish-red reflected in the depths of Aiwass’s eyes, visible only to Transcendent vision, that the purple area, which occupied more than two-thirds, was starting to shrink at a visible rate.

Purple and Red were gradually returning to balance.