In the Mirror Domain, there is no concept of swaddling clothes. Perhaps other Mirror Domains in the Mirror World have it, but this one does not.
However, this doesn’t mean that Laplace is unaware of swaddling clothes.
In the Sea of Void Mirror, countless reflections float and sink, including scenes from ordinary families, where baby swaddlings are naturally not uncommon.
Laplace looked seriously at the mural changing in light and shadow, pondering for a long time.
At first, when Angel mentioned swaddling, she couldn’t make the connection with the mural. But as time went on, the concept of swaddling became more and more ingrained in her mind, and when she looked at the mural again, it seemed... there really was an outline of swaddling.
This feeling is like interpreting constellations. Even if ordinary people know the coordinates of a constellation, it’s hard for them to make any complex associations. But when astrologers explain seriously, connecting these points and adding their own imagination, the image of the constellation immediately becomes three-dimensional.
The change in light and shadow before her was the same; before being pointed out, it seemed to resemble nothing.
But once the concept of "swaddling" emerged in her mind, she couldn’t see any other image in the light and shadow. No matter how she looked or at what time she observed, it was all swaddling.
Laplace didn’t think this was due to the limitations of her own thinking. Since her mind could only conjure swaddling, perhaps Angel was indeed right, and this was a pattern of swaddling.
But then, why would there be a mural of swaddling at the top of the tree?
Laplace thought carefully but found nothing, so she could only place her hopeful gaze on Angel.
Angel scratched the Wood Spirit on his arm, letting it loosen its grip slightly, and then said, "I just said it casually; I can’t be sure it’s really swaddling. But if it is, it could be understood as a symbol of birth, perhaps this was once the birthplace of some creatures."
When Angel mentioned this, he couldn’t help but recall those stories from the Earth novels in his holographic tablet, which recorded the Trees of the Elves.
No one knows what inspired Earth’s authors, but many of them describe the birth of elves as asexual reproduction, or simply as fruits borne from the Trees of the Elves, giving birth to elves.
And once the Tree of the Elves shows signs of withering, the number of elves begins to decline.
If this tree is truly seen as a Tree of the Elves, and some "elves" once lived here, then perhaps this was the place where those elves were born. Or, where they were baptized after being born.
Of course, this is purely Angel’s imagination; with only this one mural, he couldn’t ascertain much.
Most importantly, Angel doesn’t feel that his interpretation of "swaddling" is absolutely correct.
Angel maintained a casual attitude, but Laplace took it seriously. She didn’t truly believe in Angel; she believed in herself, believed in Glaipnir’s interpretation.
Glaipnir is her, she is Glaipnir. Glaipnir gave no reaction to Angel’s mention of "swaddling," and coupled with the fact that her own mind was filled with swaddling and no other images, it wasn’t normal. It was somewhat like... inspiration, or a premonition?
Given this, Laplace was convinced this was swaddling.
"Birthplace... it might make some sense, but it’s still lacking more information." Laplace looked at Angel: "Are you interested in looking at the other murals here?"
In Laplace’s view, since Angel could uncover the truth of the mural at the tree’s top, perhaps the other murals could also offer him some insight.
Angel: "Of course, I’m interested. Speaking of which, I also have some questions that need Lady Laplace’s answers."
"What questions?"
Angel: "It’s unrelated to these murals."
Laplace: "Then... is it related to the Sweet Dreams? Has your research made progress?"
Angel hesitated for a moment: "It is related to Sweet Dreams, but the research plan still needs time; I just need some questions answered."
"Then what doubts do you have; you can ask now."
Angel: "No hurry; since we’re going to look at the murals, we can talk as we walk."
Laplace nodded noncommittally, her figure turned, and she flew to the edge of a branch. Seeing this, Angel didn’t hesitate and immediately followed.
Laplace glanced back at Angel, releasing the Art of Flying, and began free-falling towards the ground.
Angel also followed without hesitation.
A few seconds later, Laplace and Angel returned to the base of the giant tree.
This time, instead of flying up as before, they walked slowly up along the winding tree trunk like a small path.
Laplace finally touched the ground, her long silver hair cascading onto the trunk, creating a beautiful flowing light as the two advanced.
From afar, with the surrounding environment—the ancient wood, the dense foliage, and the dappled light and shadow—Laplace seemed like an elven queen about to ascend the throne.
Angel’s presence seemed somewhat diminished before Laplace.
However, Angel didn’t intend to compete for presence; besides, in a true test of strength, he couldn’t match Laplace, so it was normal for her aura to be stronger.
Angel quickly walked in front of Laplace, overtaking by about half a body length. Not because being behind felt like a lackey, but purely because walking behind Laplace, he feared stepping on the several-meter-long hair trailing on the ground.
"Aren’t you planning to ask?" Laplace looked at Angel.
Angel: "I want to ask a potentially private question: Lady Laplace, do you dream?"
Laplace: "Are you asking if I am influenced by the Sweet Dreams?"
Angel waved his hand: "No. I’m just curious whether a being like Laplace, born within mirrors, sleeps and dreams."
Though Laplace didn’t understand why Angel asked this, she still answered seriously: "I do sleep, but dreaming... besides being influenced by Sweet Dreams, I’ve only dreamed a long, long time ago."
"A long time ago?"
Laplace: "Perhaps two thousand, or maybe three thousand years ago... such trivial matters aren’t something I remember."
Angel was a bit puzzled: "So afterwards you’ve never slept again, or you’ve slept but never dreamed again?"
Laplace: "My true body is still in slumber now."
In other words, Laplace can sleep but has never dreamed again.