When renowned game developer Giri meets his untimely end, he awakens as twelve-year-old Vel in the magical realm of Aeonalus-his own creation. Five hundred years have passed since he crafted the world, and Vel finds himself in the village of Oakhave...
A few minutes later, the door creaked open. Bright morning light spilled across the threshold.
Landre emerged first, tugging her worn shawl close around her shoulders with practiced ease as the fabric settled into familiar folds. Vel followed, the door's lock clicking into place behind them.
She immediately took his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his. Vel felt a momentary awkwardness - he hadn't held hands with anyone in years. Then he remembered: this was Landre, his sister. Like Hanna. His expression softened imperceptibly.
They started walking down a well-worn path. Their boots left shallow prints in the damp earth.
"Come on," Landre beckoned, already a few steps ahead.
Vel glanced back at their house—a simple, rectangular structure of roughly hewn logs and daub. The thatched roof looked uneven, patched in several places.
"Watch your step." Landre pointed at a particularly muddy patch.
Vel sidestepped the puddle, his gaze drawn to the bustling movement visible at the alley's end. People crossed back and forth through the gap like shadows in a puppet show, their forms cut off by the narrow walls.
The air carried a mix of scents - wet earth, fresh straw, something cooking nearby. Each breath filled his lungs with the raw reality of this place.
"Where did you want to go?" Landre's voice cut through his thoughts.
Vel suddenly felt a pang of restriction as he looked at the rain barrel and woven baskets lining the path. A loss of the freedom he was used to. But then he reminded himself: he was in a child's body now. He had to adapt.
He stayed silent, mind racing through possibilities. What could he do in this situation? But this was also an opportunity. Landre, as his sister, would likely know more about this world - his world - better than anyone.
"Landre, what's the history of our village?"
She stopped walking, turning to face him with widened eyes.
"What's gotten into you, Vel?" Her voice carried a note of concern. "Why... why aren't you calling me 'Lan-neechan' anymore? Are you... still upset?"
Morning light caught her features, and Vel found himself staring. Her blonde hair formed an intricate crown of braids that gleamed golden. She wore an outfit similar to their mother's - white long-sleeved undershirt beneath a blue dress, with leather covering her torso. The craftsmanship showed in detailed stitching, cinched at her waist by a leather belt. His heart stuttered at the sight, caught between aesthetic appreciation and an uncomfortable awareness.
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[Landre - Concept Art]
""Sorry, I guess I haven't fully recovered from... what happened. It seems some memories are still finding their way back."
