Chapter 118: Red Moon [4]
Ever since that day, Margaret Illenia had one lingering question.
How did Vanitas Astrea find her?
She had been hiding in a secluded forest. A place even the common citizens of Illenia struggled to navigate.
And yet, an eight-year-old boy—a foreigner, a mere visitor—found her, saved her, and guided her to the refugees.
It was as if he already knew his way around Illenia.
And yet, she never dared to ask.
When they reunited after ten years, the boy she remembered didn’t seem to recall her at all.
——You are?
Those were his words that day. The bright, lively boy she once knew had become someone sunken and cold.
But yesterday, he had called her something different.
——Princess Illenia.
It wasn’t a secret that she was once a princess. But it wasn’t something of great importance either.
Yet coming from Vanitas, those words carried weight.
Could it be…?
Margaret had long suspected that he had been avoiding the topic, pretending not to remember saving her or meeting her that day.
After all, there had been moments in the past where she had caught him watching her.
Times when she was mocked for her rigid, unconventional swordsmanship—the very style she had admired from the Illenia Knights as a child.
And then, on one particular day, Vanitas Astrea had simply appeared.
——You think you people are any better?
His words cut through the whispers of the knights who ridiculed her.
A man from the Magic Department, already well-known in their first year for his childhood achievements, now standing in defense of someone he supposedly had no connection to.
——Clowns tripping over their own shoes but laughing at someone else’s misstep. Tell me, does it feel good to stand together and sneer at someone who’s actually doing something, while you cower behind tradition and mediocrity?
Perhaps she couldn’t blame the rumors that spread about her and Vanitas. Their supposed “special relationship” had been a common misconception during their second year.
He had never addressed it. Neither had she.
But when asked, Margaret always made sure to clear it up. ‘We’re just acquaintances. No, actually, we aren’t even that close.’
Something that went like that.
“….”
Margaret glanced at Vanitas, who stood against the wall with his arms crossed.
Around her, knights and mages fixed their gazes on the horizon. Some, experiencing their first Red Moon suppression, held looks of unease. The veterans, however, remained composed.
For Margaret, this was her sixth.
Yet, amid the tense atmosphere, Vanitas was different.
“….”
He wasn’t watching the distance. He wasn’t preparing like the others. Instead, his gaze was lowered with his finger tapping absently against his arm.
——Everyone, look up!
A streak of crimson cut across the sky as the moon bled into the night.
“….”
Still, Vanitas didn’t lift his head.
Margaret’s attention never left him. As others marveled or braced themselves for what was to come, she watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
“Ah.”
Margaret’s eyes widened in realization.
She had seen that object before. Just a few days ago, Karina had handed Vanitas something before he sent her away. Some kind of heirloom, perhaps.
She could still recall their exchange.
——Before I go, I’d like to give you this, Professor.
——What is it?
——It’s a protective seal. I crafted it myself. Even if I’m not here, I want to help you in some way.
Margaret watched as Vanitas stared at the seal for a moment, as if he was thinking of Karina to give him strength before slipping it back into his coat pocket. Then, he took out his pocket watch.
“Ah, so that’s how it is….”
She had suspected it before. Vanitas, who always maintained a cold and distant demeanor, acted a bit differently around Karina.
Whenever he spoke to her, there was a certain gentleness in his tone. As if he was careful not to hurt her in any way possible.
Perhaps it was something imperceptible to others with how subtle it was, but Margaret couldn’t help but notice it whenever she saw it.
“….”
Her lips pulled into a small smile.
Perhaps that was what Vanitas needed. Someone unburdened by the past. Someone who didn’t have to carry old wounds, who could embrace the person he was now.
She could never be that person for him.
It was clear. From the moment they had ascended the wall, Vanitas Astrea had never once looked her way.
“….”
Even so, he had been kind and professional to her. Maybe distant, but never cruel. They had played League of Spirits occasionally together, exchanged words in the university halls, ate lunch together with the faculty, and so on.
But beyond that, Vanitas had always been busy.
He had never truly looked her way.
“….”
Margaret turned toward the distance.
The knights and mages stood tense, gripping their weapons as they held their breaths, watching the silhouettes approaching.
Some were nervous, others were resolute. Meanwhile, the veterans braced themselves.
At that moment.
——♬♫♪♩
“Huh?”
“Ah?”
A wave of confusion spread as heads turned toward the sound.
“….”
….Vanitas Astrea was singing.
* * *
There was a specific strategy developed by players once the moon turned red and the clock struck midnight.
I had spent the entire time reconfiguring and double-checking the necessary circuits for the battle ahead. Maybe it was just my natural tendency to be overly cautious, but it never hurt to triple-check.
“….”
However, in my focus, I almost missed the timing when I accidentally pulled out the protective seal Karina had given me instead of my pocket watch.
In my defense, they were the same size and shape. Maybe it was my fault for habitually stuffing things into my right coat pocket without thinking.
Regardless, back to the strategy.
When the clock struck midnight, the timing had to be perfect.
Even the smallest fraction of a second mattered. That’s where the strategy came in.
If the final syllable aligned exactly with the activation sequence, the timing would be flawless.
The problem?
A song had to be sung by the player in real time, and the song happened to be a well-known track from a Western artist in my old world.
I had considered whispering it out of sheer embarrassment, but that would only invite questions and distractions. The last thing I needed was people pestering me for orders while I was trying to concentrate.
That couldn’t happen.
So, to drown out any interruptions, there was only one option left.
I had to sing loudly.
“Hoo….”
So, with a deep breath, I stepped forward and opened my mouth.
“3…. 2…. 1….”
The clock struck twelve.
“I just woke up from a dream~”
I had done my fair share of stand-up singing in bars, clubs, hotels, and so on while infiltrating as a musician. I wasn’t particularly good, but I had studied techniques enough to pass.
The problem was, this body wasn’t the one I was used to. The diaphragm was different. The voice box was different. Vanitas Astrea’s voice was deeper than my original one.
“Wherever you go, that’s where I follow~”
Still, I kept singing. Not to show off, not because I had any real talent, but because I wanted to live. I wanted to survive this mission and claim my quest rewards.
So I sang my heart out.
——♬♫♪♩
I ignored the incredulous expressions around me. They were probably questioning my sanity, wondering why this stern, calculating, and commanding professor had suddenly broken into song.
“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you~”
To them, it was probably terrifying.
“I’d wanna hold you, just for a while~”
Honestly, the lyrics were cringe. Under normal circumstances, I’d be dying of embarrassment.
But this was the song with the most precise timing needed for the strategy to work. If even a miniscule of a second was delayed, the demons would be able to breach past regardless.
To put things into perspective, I wanted everything to be flawless.
And really, now that I think about it, why should I care about perceptions?
——♬♫♪♩
I’m Vanitas Astrea.
“Right next to you~”
In the distance, layers upon layers of massive magic circles flared to life, overlapping perfectly on top of each other.
I had spent the last three days setting this up, pouring my mana into it whenever I had a free moment to prepare for this exact moment.
As the final syllable left my lips, I snapped my fingers.
“Collapse.”
Flick—!
The demons that had surged forward, breaking through the ground at the specific locations under my magic circuits’ coverage.
They never even had the chance to react.
Boom———!
They perished instantly under my Grandmaster spell.
* * *
Speechless.
That was the only way to describe the reaction of everyone present.
No one could utter a single word. Goosebumps crept up their spines. It wasn’t just the shock of hearing their professor sing, but the gravity of what had just happened.
The magic circuits had been carefully placed. Every formation, every layer, had been set in locations where the demons had no chance to run, breach, escape, or push through.
Even after five minutes, not a single demon had broken past the barren, cleared land.
Everyone simply stood there on standby, frozen, eyes wide with horror and disbelief.
“So, are you just going to stand there?”
But the silence was soon broken by Vanitas Astrea, who continued manipulating the circuits.
“Go. Suppress them. I’ve wiped out enough of their initial wave for you not to struggle, even with your poor coordination.”
“I….”
Commander Albrecht swallowed hard before steeling his expression. He turned forward and gripped his sword tightly.
“Move! Go!”
His voice rang out like a battle cry, snapping the knights and mages out of their daze.
At that moment, screams echoed from below as horses galloped forward, knights charging like a cavalry.
Meanwhile, the mages stood atop the walls. Their voices rose in unison as incantations filled the air. Magic circuits flared to life, and spells lashed out toward the advancing demons.
Surprisingly, the mages were a lot more synchronized than Vanitas had expected. They spoke their chants in perfect unison.
——O light that burns away the abyss, sever the shadows that crawl upon the land. Bring forth the dawn of annihilation—Solar Flare!
A blinding explosion of golden fire erupted across the battlefield, swallowing the enemy ranks in a sea of flames.
More magic followed. Ice, wind, fire, water, shadow, and earth—each element intertwining as spells rained down upon the demons.
On the ground, knights maneuvered their horses, outpacing and outmaneuvering the swarm of demons.
“Wow….”
Even Commander Albrecht was taken aback. In his twenty years of suppressing the Blood Moon, never had he witnessed cavalry used so effectively against demons.
This was the first time he had seen horses integrated into frontline combat against such creatures.
The sight was breathtaking. Part of him longed to charge into battle alongside them, but as commander, his duty was to remain at his post.
“….”
His gaze shifted to Vanitas Astrea. Beads of sweat formed on the professor’s forehead as his fingers danced. It looked as if he was orchestrating the battlefield like a grand chess match.
Unlike the mages unleashing their spells in real-time, Vanitas relied on pre-embedded spells—God only knew when he had even prepared them.
Commander Albrecht exhaled, watching the spectacle unfold.
“Insane….”
Indeed, Vanitas Astrea wasn’t just talk.
* * *
“You have to admit it, Clevius,” Johanna said as she rode forward, slashing through demons in her path.
Slash—!
“Admit what?” Clevius frowned, cutting down another enemy.
“Vanitas Astrea’s changed. No, Senior Vanitas.”
“The hell…?”
Slash—!
Clevius scowled but didn’t respond immediately.
In truth, he couldn’t deny it.
The strategy wasn’t unfounded. It had been two hours since the battle began, yet thanks to the horses, their stamina remained strong.
“That spell… no, that singing,” Johanna muttered, almost in disbelief. Then, with a sigh, she added, “God, why does his voice sound so good?”
“….”
She sounded like a fangirl at this point.
Boom! Boom!
Some horses had fallen to demonic attacks, but whenever a knight fell on the ground, mages covered their retreat while fresh mounts were cycled in.
But how long could this last?
The Blood Moon wasn’t a single night. It was a two-week suppression event. There weren’t enough horses to maintain this pace forever.
And to those who remembered, an unsettling thought lingered in their minds.
Just like what happened that day with their seniors and peers if things went awry.
“….”
….Would Vanitas Astrea abandon them too?
“䖥 㧛䛶䩎㒭 䁮䞺䁮 㽊䘴 㒭㧛㯚 㽊䘴䝁㾬䁮䟇 㝆㽊䁮㒭 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬㮎 㒷㯚㟧 㽊䘴 䖥’䲬㾬 䘴㽊䞺䁮 䣜㾬䶁㧛㗕㾬䟇 䖥 䘴㟧㗕㧛䛶㾈䩎㒭 䣜㾬䩎䞺㾬䲬㾬 㒭㧛㯚 䘴㾇㧛㯚䩎䁮䛶’㟧 䣽㾬㾬㟧 㾇䞺䣽㮎”
䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 䘴䏑䞺㗕䩎㾬䁮 㟧㾇㾬 䏑䞺䛶㾬 䞺䛶 㾇㾬㗕 㾈㧛䣜䩎㾬㟧 㽊䘴 䘴㾇㾬 㾈㽊㴊㾬䁮 㽊㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㗕䞺䣽䘴㧛䛶 䣽㧛㧛䛶 㽊䣜㧛䲬㾬㮎
㽱㾇㾬 䃧㾬䁮 䯆㧛㧛䛶 㧛䶁 㳇㯚㟧㯚䣽䛶 䏑㽊䘴 㽊 䣽㽊㩘㧛㗕 䞺䛶䔪㧛䛶䲬㾬䛶䞺㾬䛶䔪㾬 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㾇㧛䘴㾬 䞺䛶䲬㧛䩎䲬㾬䁮䟇 䏑㾇䞺䔪㾇 䁮㗕㽊䞺䛶㾬䁮 㗕㾬䘴㧛㯚㗕䔪㾬䘴䟇 㟧䞺䣽㾬䟇 㽊䛶䁮 䣽㽊䛶䋱㧛䏑㾬㗕㮎 㒷㯚㟧 䶁㧛㗕 㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕䘴䟇 䞺㟧 䏑㽊䘴 㩘㯚䘴㟧 㽊 㗕㽊㗕㾬 㾬䲬㾬䛶㟧 䏑㾇㾬㗕㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䣽㧛㧛䛶 㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮 㗕㾬䁮 㽊䛶䁮 㟧㾇㾬 䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧䘴 㾈㗕㾬䏑 䩎㧛䛶㾈㾬㗕㮎
“㧱㧛䏑 䏑㾇㽊㟧 㽊䣽 䖥 䘴㯚䋱䋱㧛䘴㾬䁮 㟧㧛 䁮㧛㲗” 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 㾬䣻㾇㽊䩎㾬䁮䟇 䘴㾬㟧㟧䞺䛶㾈 㾇㾬㗕 㾈㧛䣜䩎㾬㟧 䁮㧛䏑䛶㮎 “䄱㾬 䣽㽊㒭 㾇㽊䲬㾬 䘴㽊䞺䁮 㾇㾬 䏑㾬㗕㾬 㟧㧛 䣽㾬㾬㟧 䣽㾬䟇 䣜㯚㟧 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㩘㯚䘴㟧 㽊 䋱㗕㾬㟧㾬䛶䘴㾬 㟧㧛 㾈㾬㟧 㗕䞺䁮 㧛䶁 㒭㧛㯚㲗”
㳇㟧 㟧㾇㾬 㟧䞺䣽㾬䟇 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 㾇㽊䁮 䞺䛶䘴㟧㗕㯚䔪㟧㾬䁮 䲿䞺㽊 㟧㧛 䶁㧛㗕䣽㽊䩎䩎㒭 䞺䛶䲬䞺㟧㾬 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㳇䘴㟧㗕㾬㽊 㟧㧛 䣽㾬㾬㟧 㾇㾬㗕㮎
䒱㾬䘴䟇 䘴㾇㾬 㾇㽊䁮 䶁㧛䩎䩎㧛䏑㾬䁮 㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕䘴䟇 䣜㯚㟧 䛶㧛㟧 䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䏑㽊㒭 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 㾇㽊䁮 䞺䛶㟧㾬䛶䁮㾬䁮㮎
䲿䞺㽊’䘴 㾬䣻䔪㯚䘴㾬㲗
䪹㾇㾬 㗕㾬䶁㯚䘴㾬䁮 㟧㧛 䩎㾬㟧 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 䣽㾬㾬㟧 㽊 䣽㽊䛶 䏑㾇㧛䟇 䞺䛶 㾇㾬㗕 䏑㧛㗕䁮䘴䟇 㾇䞺䁮 䣜㾬㾇䞺䛶䁮 㽊 䣽㽊䘴䝁—䛶㧛㟧 㩘㯚䘴㟧 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕䘴䟇 䣜㯚㟧 㾬䲬㾬䛶 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㾇䞺䘴 㧛䏑䛶 䘴䞺䘴㟧㾬㗕㮎
“䪹㟧䞺䩎䩎䟇 㾇䞺䘴 䞺䛶䞺㟧䞺㽊㟧䞺䲬㾬䘴 㽊㗕㾬 䞺䛶㟧㾬㗕㾬䘴㟧䞺䛶㾈䟇” 䖥㗕㾬䛶㾬 䣽㯚䘴㾬䁮㮎 “㧱㧛㟧 䘴㯚㗕㾬 㾇㧛䏑 㟧㾇㾬㒭 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 䣜㾬䛶㾬䶁䞺㟧 㳇㾬㟧㾇㾬㗕䞺㧛䛶… 䣜㯚㟧 㟧㾇㾬 㽱㾇㾬㧛䔪㗕㽊䔪㒭 㾇㽊䘴 䛶㧛 䛶㾬㾬䁮 䶁㧛㗕 䘴㯚䔪㾇 㽊䣜䘴㯚㗕䁮䞺㟧㒭㮎”
“㒷㒭 㟧㾇㾬 㜶㽊㟧㾇㾬㗕䟇 㟧㾇㾬 䪹㧛䛶䟇 㽊䛶䁮 㟧㾇㾬 䄱㧛䩎㒭 䪹䋱䞺㗕䞺㟧䟇 㽊䛶 㳉䣽䋱䞺㗕㾬 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䘴㟧㽊䛶䁮䘴 㽊䘴 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㽊䛶㾬 㧛䶁 㽊䩎䩎 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶䘴 䁮㧛㾬䘴 䛶㧛㟧 䣜㾬䛶䁮 䞺㟧䘴 䶁㽊䞺㟧㾇 䘴㧛 㾬㽊䘴䞺䩎㒭㮎”
㵔㾇㒭 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 㟧㾇㾬㒭㲗
㽱㾇㾬 䪹䏑㧛㗕䁮 䪹㽊䞺䛶㟧䟇 㳇䘴㟧㧛䛶 㧱䞺㾬㟧㴊䘴䔪㾇㾬㮎
㲚㟧㾇㾬㗕䏑䞺䘴㾬 䝁䛶㧛䏑䛶 㽊䘴 㝴㽊㗕䁮䞺䛶㽊䩎 㧱䞺㾬㟧㴊䘴䔪㾇㾬㮎
㳉䲬㾬䛶 䞺䶁 䞺㟧 䣽㾬㽊䛶㟧 䣜㾬㟧㗕㽊㒭䞺䛶㾈 㾇㾬㗕 㧛䏑䛶 㗕㧛㧛㟧䘴㮎
㭟 㭟 㭟
㳇䣽䞺䁮䘴㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㽊㟧㟧䩎㾬䶁䞺㾬䩎䁮䟇 䘴㯚㗕㗕㧛㯚䛶䁮㾬䁮 䣜㒭 䋱䞺䩎㾬䘴 㧛䶁 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶 䔪㧛㗕䋱䘴㾬䘴䟇 䘴㟧㧛㧛䁮 㽊 䣽㽊䛶 䏑䞺㟧㾇 䞺䲬㧛㗕㒭 㾇㽊䞺㗕 㽊䛶䁮 㾬㒭㾬䘴 䩎䞺䝁㾬 䩎㽊䋱䞺䘴 䩎㽊㴊㯚䩎䞺㮎
䄱䞺䘴 䘴䏑㧛㗕䁮 㾈䩎㾬㽊䣽㾬䁮 㯚䛶䁮㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㗕䞺䣽䘴㧛䛶 䘴䝁㒭㮎 䄱䞺䘴 䏑㾇䞺㟧㾬 䔪㽊䋱㾬 䣜䞺䩎䩎㧛䏑㾬䁮 䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㗕㾬㾬㴊㾬 㽊㾈㽊䞺䛶䘴㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䣜䩎㽊䔪䝁 㽊䛶䁮 䏑㾇䞺㟧㾬 㧛䶁 㾇䞺䘴 䔪㽊㗕䁮䞺䛶㽊䩎 㗕㧛䣜㾬䘴㮎
㽱㾇㾬䛶䟇 㽊䘴 䞺䶁 㽊 䘴䏑䞺㟧䔪㾇 㾇㽊䁮 䶁䩎䞺䋱䋱㾬䁮䟇 㾇䞺䘴 㾬䣻䋱㗕㾬䘴䘴䞺㧛䛶 䘴㧛䶁㟧㾬䛶㾬䁮㮎 䄱䞺䘴 㟧㧛䛶㾬 䘴㾇䞺䶁㟧㾬䁮 㟧㧛 䘴㧛䣽㾬㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈 㽊䩎䣽㧛䘴㟧 䞺䛶䛶㧛䔪㾬䛶㟧㮎
——䪹㟧㧛䋱 㒭㽊䋱䋱䞺䛶㾈 㽊䛶䁮 㾈㾬㟧 䣽㧛䲬䞺䛶㾈 㽊䩎㗕㾬㽊䁮㒭㮎 䒱㧛㯚’䲬㾬 䣜㾬㾬䛶 䁮㾬䋱䩎㧛㒭㾬䁮 㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䏑㾬䘴㟧㾬㗕䛶 䣜㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕㮎 䖥䶁 㒭㧛㯚 㗕㾬㽊䩎䩎㒭 䏑㽊䛶㟧 㟧㧛 䘴㾬㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䪹㽊䞺䛶㟧㾬䘴䘴䟇 㟧㾇㾬䛶 㾇㯚㗕㗕㒭 㯚䋱㻣
“䯆㯚䘴㟧 㒭㧛㯚 㽊䩎䏑㽊㒭䘴 㗕㯚䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䣽㧛㧛䁮䟇 㝴㽊㗕䁮䞺䛶㽊䩎 䖥㴊㴊㽊㲗” 㾇㾬 䘴䞺㾈㾇㾬䁮㮎
——㵔㾇㽊㟧㲗 㽱㾇㾬 㝆㽊䁮㒭 䪹㽊䞺䛶㟧㾬䘴䘴 䞺䘴 䏑㽊䞺㟧䞺䛶㾈 䶁㧛㗕 㯚䘴㮎 㳇㗕㾬 㒭㧛㯚 㾈㧛䞺䛶㾈 㟧㧛 䝁㾬㾬䋱 㾇㾬㗕 䏑㽊䞺㟧䞺䛶㾈㲗
——㽱㾇㾬 䘴㧛㧛䛶㾬㗕 䏑㾬 䔪䩎㾬㽊㗕 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䏑㽊䲬㾬䟇 㟧㾇㾬 䶁㽊䘴㟧㾬㗕 䏑㾬 㾈㧛 㾇㧛䣽㾬㮎
“䒱㾬㽊㾇䟇 㒭㾬㽊㾇䟇 䛶㧛䏑 䘴㟧㧛䋱 㟧㽊䩎䝁䞺䛶㾈㮎 䖥—”
䪹䏑㧛㧛䘴㾇—㻣
䄱㾬 䶁䩎䞺䔪䝁㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 㾇㾬㽊䁮 㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䘴䞺䁮㾬 㽊䛶䁮 䘴䏑㯚䛶㾈 㾇䞺䘴 䘴䏑㧛㗕䁮 䞺䛶 㽊 䔪㗕㾬䘴䔪㾬䛶㟧 㽊㗕䔪㮎 㳇 䣽㧛䣽㾬䛶㟧 䩎㽊㟧㾬㗕䟇 㟧㾇㾬 䘴㧛㯚䛶䁮 㧛䶁 䣜䩎㧛㧛䁮 䘴䋱䩎㽊㟧㟧㾬㗕䞺䛶㾈 䶁䞺䩎䩎㾬䁮 㟧㾇㾬 㽊䞺㗕㮎
——㧱㽊㾇䟇 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䏑㽊䘴 䣽㒭 䣜㽊䁮㮎 䜌㧛㟧 㟧㧛㧛 䋱㗕㾬㧛䔪䔪㯚䋱䞺㾬䁮…㮎 㳇䛶䁮 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㽊 䊈㯚䩎䩎㽊㾇㽊䛶㲗
“䖥 㟧㾇䞺䛶䝁 䘴㧛㲗 㧱㧛㟧 䩎䞺䝁㾬 䞺㟧 䣽㽊㟧㟧㾬㗕䘴㮎 䒱㧛㯚 䁮㧛䛶’㟧 㾇㽊䲬㾬 㟧㧛 㽊䋱㧛䩎㧛㾈䞺㴊㾬 䶁㧛㗕 㾬䲬㾬㗕㒭㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈䟇 㝴㽊㗕䁮䞺䛶㽊䩎 䖥㴊㴊㽊㮎 㵔㾬’䲬㾬 䣜㾬㾬䛶 䋱㽊㗕㟧䛶㾬㗕䘴 䶁㧛㗕 䩎㧛䛶㾈 㾬䛶㧛㯚㾈㾇㮎”
㳇䘴㟧㧛䛶 䘴䔪㧛䶁䶁㾬䁮㮎 “䖥 䘴㟧䞺䩎䩎 䁮㧛䛶’㟧 㾈㾬㟧 㒭㧛㯚㗕 䘴㾬䛶㟧䞺䣽㾬䛶㟧䘴䟇 䣜㯚㟧 䏑㾇㽊㟧㾬䲬㾬㗕㮎 㧱㧛䏑 䘴㟧㧛䋱㮎 㶓㾬㧛䋱䩎㾬 㽊㗕㾬 㽊䩎㗕㾬㽊䁮㒭 䩎㧛㧛䝁䞺䛶㾈 㽊㟧 䣽㾬 䩎䞺䝁㾬 䖥’䣽 䞺䛶䘴㽊䛶㾬㮎”
䄱㾬 㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮䟇 㾇䞺䘴 㾈㽊㴊㾬 䘴䏑㾬㾬䋱䞺䛶㾈 㧛䲬㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 㾈㽊㟧㾇㾬㗕㾬䁮 䋱㽊䩎㽊䁮䞺䛶䘴㮎
“䖥’䩎䩎 䩎㾬㽊䲬㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䔪䩎㾬㽊䛶㯚䋱 㟧㧛 㽊䩎䩎 㧛䶁 㒭㧛㯚㮎 䪹㯚㗕㾬䩎㒭䟇 㒭㧛㯚 䔪㽊䛶 㾇㽊䛶䁮䩎㾬 䏑㾇㽊㟧㾬䲬㾬㗕 䶁㧛䩎䩎㧛䏑䘴 䛶㾬䣻㟧㮎”
䄱㾬 㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮 㽊䏑㽊㒭㮎
㵔䞺㟧㾇 㟧㾇㽊㟧䟇 㳇䘴㟧㧛䛶 䏑㽊䩎䝁㾬䁮 䞺䛶㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䁮䞺䘴㟧㽊䛶䔪㾬䟇 㟧㾇㾬 䃧㾬䁮 䯆㧛㧛䛶’䘴 㾈䩎㧛䏑 䔪㽊䘴㟧䞺䛶㾈 䞺㟧䘴 䔪㗕䞺䣽䘴㧛䛶 䩎䞺㾈㾇㟧 㧛䲬㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 䣜䩎㧛㧛䁮㴝䘴㧛㽊䝁㾬䁮 䣜㽊㟧㟧䩎㾬䶁䞺㾬䩎䁮㮎
㽱㽊䝁㮎 㽱㽊䝁——㻣
㭟 㭟 㭟
㳇 䔪㧛䣽䣽㧛䛶 䣽䞺䘴䔪㧛䛶䔪㾬䋱㟧䞺㧛䛶 䏑㽊䘴 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㽊䩎䩎 䜌㗕㾬㽊㟧 㶓㧛䏑㾬㗕䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 䶁㧛㗕䣽䞺䁮㽊䣜䩎㾬 䶁䞺㾈㯚㗕㾬䘴䟇 䣜㯚㟧 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㾬䛶㟧䞺㗕㾬䩎㒭 㟧㗕㯚㾬㮎
㽱㽊䝁㾬 㝆㽊䛶䔪㾬 㳇䣜㾬䩎㟧㧛䛶䟇 㟧㾇㾬 䪹䔪㾇㧛䩎㽊㗕 㧛䶁 㵔䞺䘴䁮㧛䣽䟇 䶁㧛㗕 㾬䣻㽊䣽䋱䩎㾬㮎
䄱㾬 㾇㽊䁮 䣽㽊䘴㟧㾬㗕㾬䁮 䋱㧛䏑㾬㗕䶁㯚䩎 䘴䋱㾬䩎䩎䘴 㽊䛶䁮 䔪㧛㯚䩎䁮 䔪㽊䘴㟧 㟧㾇㾬䣽 䏑䞺㟧㾇㧛㯚㟧 㽊 䣜㾬㽊䁮 㧛䶁 䘴䏑㾬㽊㟧 䶁㧛㗕䣽䞺䛶㾈㮎
㵔㾇㽊㟧 㟧㗕㯚䩎㒭 㾬㽊㗕䛶㾬䁮 㾇䞺䣽 㟧㾇㾬 㟧䞺㟧䩎㾬 㧛䶁 䜌㗕㾬㽊㟧 㶓㧛䏑㾬㗕 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㾇䞺䘴 䣽㽊㾈䞺䔪䟇 䣜㯚㟧 㾇䞺䘴 䔪㧛䛶㟧㗕䞺䣜㯚㟧䞺㧛䛶䘴 㟧㧛 䝁䛶㧛䏑䩎㾬䁮㾈㾬㮎 䄱㾬 㾇㽊䁮 䔪㧛䣽䋱䩎㾬㟧㾬䁮 㽊䛶䁮 䋱㯚䣜䩎䞺䘴㾇㾬䁮 䔪㧛㯚䛶㟧䩎㾬䘴䘴 㯚䛶䶁䞺䛶䞺䘴㾇㾬䁮 㟧㾇㾬䘴㾬䘴 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㟧㾇㾬 䋱㽊䘴㟧 㽊䛶䁮 䘴㧛䩎䞺䁮䞺䶁䞺㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 䩎㾬㾈㽊䔪㒭 㟧㧛䁮㽊㒭㮎
㲚䶁 䔪㧛㯚㗕䘴㾬䟇 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㽊䘴㾬 䶁㧛㗕 㾬䲬㾬㗕㒭㧛䛶㾬㮎
㒷㾬䔪㽊㯚䘴㾬 㧛䶁 㟧㾇䞺䘴䟇 㽊 㧱㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶㽊䩎 㵔㾬㽊䋱㧛䛶 䩎䞺䝁㾬 䪹㧛䩎䞺㾬㟧㟧㾬 䊈㧛䣽䞺䛶䞺䉺㯚㾬 䏑㽊䘴 䘴㾬䛶㟧 㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㾬㾈䞺㧛䛶 䏑䞺㟧㾇 㟧㾇㾬 㾇䞺㾈㾇㾬䘴㟧 䔪㧛䛶䔪㾬䛶㟧㗕㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶 㧛䶁 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶䞺䔪 㾬䛶㾬㗕㾈㒭—䶁㽊㗕 䣜㾬㒭㧛䛶䁮 㟧㾇㾬 㳇㾬㟧㾇㾬㗕䞺㧛䛶 㳉䣽䋱䞺㗕㾬䟇 㧛㯚㟧䘴䞺䁮㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕䘴 㧛䶁 㟧㾇㾬 䶁㧛㯚㗕 㾈㗕㾬㽊㟧 㾬䣽䋱䞺㗕㾬䘴㮎
㶓㗕㧛䶁㽊䛶㯚䘴㮎
㳇䶁㟧㾬㗕 㽊䩎䩎䟇 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 䣜㧛㗕䛶 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㟧㾇㾬 䲬㾬㗕㒭 㾬䘴䘴㾬䛶䔪㾬 㧛䶁 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䣽䞺㽊䘴䣽㽊㮎
䊈㾬䣽㧛䛶䞺䔪 䣽䞺㽊䘴䣽㽊—㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕䏑䞺䘴㾬 䝁䛶㧛䏑䛶 㽊䘴 㟧㾇㾬 㒷䩎㽊䔪䝁 䊈㗕㽊㾈㧛䛶’䘴 㟧㗕㽊䔪㾬䘴㮎
㽱㾇㽊㟧 䣜㾬䞺䛶㾈 䘴㽊䞺䁮䟇 䪹㧛䩎䞺㾬㟧㟧㾬 䊈㧛䣽䞺䛶䞺䉺㯚㾬 䋱㗕㾬䘴䘴㾬䁮 㧛䛶 䏑䞺㟧㾇 㾇㾬㗕 䣽䞺䘴䘴䞺㧛䛶䟇 䩎㾬㽊䁮䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 䘴㯚䋱䋱㗕㾬䘴䘴䞺㧛䛶 㾬䶁䶁㧛㗕㟧 㽊䩎㧛䛶㾈䘴䞺䁮㾬 䣽㽊㾈㾬䘴 䏑㾇㧛 䔪㧛㯚䩎䁮 䝁㾬㾬䋱 㯚䋱 䏑䞺㟧㾇 㾇㾬㗕㮎
“䪹䔪㽊㟧㟧㾬㗕㮎”
㳉䣻䔪㾬䋱㟧 䶁㧛㗕 㧛䛶㾬㮎
㽱㾇㾬 䪹䏑㧛㗕䁮 䪹㽊䞺䛶㟧㮎
㳇䶁㟧㾬㗕 㽊䩎䩎䟇 䏑㾇㧛 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 䁮㽊㗕㾬 䔪㧛䣽䣽㽊䛶䁮 㽊 䣽㽊䛶 䏑㾇㧛 䔪㧛㯚䩎䁮 㾬㗕㽊䘴㾬 㽊䛶 㾬䛶㟧䞺㗕㾬 䳞䞺䛶㾈䁮㧛䣽 䏑䞺㟧㾇 䛶㧛㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈 䣜㯚㟧 㽊 䘴䏑㧛㗕䁮㲗
㭟 㭟 㭟
㳉䣻㽊䔪㟧䩎㒭 㾬䞺㾈㾇㟧 䁮㽊㒭䘴 㾇㽊䁮 䋱㽊䘴䘴㾬䁮 䘴䞺䛶䔪㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䘴㟧㽊㗕㟧 㧛䶁 㟧㾇㾬 䃧㾬䁮 䯆㧛㧛䛶 㧛䶁 㳇㯚㟧㯚䣽䛶㮎
䊈㾬䘴䋱䞺㟧㾬 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㽊䛶䁮 㟧㾇㾬 㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕䘴’ 䔪㽊㗕㾬䶁㯚䩎 䋱㗕㾬䋱㽊㗕㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶䘴䟇 䘴㯚䋱䋱䩎䞺㾬䘴 㾇㽊䁮 㗕㯚䛶 䁮㽊䛶㾈㾬㗕㧛㯚䘴䩎㒭 䩎㧛䏑㮎 䖥㟧 䏑㽊䘴 㾬䣻䋱㾬䔪㟧㾬䁮㮎 㽱㾇䞺䘴 㽊䩎䏑㽊㒭䘴 㾇㽊䋱䋱㾬䛶㾬䁮 䁮㯚㗕䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 䃧㾬䁮 䯆㧛㧛䛶㮎
㝆䞺䲬㾬䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 䩎㧛䘴㟧㮎 㲚㟧㾇㾬㗕䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 䞺䛶㩘㯚㗕㾬䁮㮎 㽱㾇㽊㟧䟇 㟧㧛㧛䟇 䏑㽊䘴 㾬䣻䋱㾬䔪㟧㾬䁮㮎 㽱㾇㾬㗕㾬 䏑㽊䘴 䛶㧛 䘴㯚䔪㾇 㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈 㽊䘴 㽊 䋱㾬㗕䶁㾬䔪㟧 䋱䩎㽊䛶㮎 㒷㯚㟧 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㾇㧛䘴㾬 䏑㾇㧛 㾇㽊䁮 䣜㾬㾬䛶 㽊䘴䘴䞺㾈䛶㾬䁮 㟧㧛 㳇䣽㾬䘴㟧䞺䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴 䣜㾬䶁㧛㗕㾬䟇 㧛䛶㾬 㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈 䏑㽊䘴 䔪㾬㗕㟧㽊䞺䛶—
㽱㾇䞺䘴 㒭㾬㽊㗕 㾇㽊䁮 㟧㾇㾬 䩎㧛䏑㾬䘴㟧 䔪㽊䘴㯚㽊䩎㟧㒭 䔪㧛㯚䛶㟧 䞺䛶 㧛䲬㾬㗕 䶁䞺䲬㾬 䁮㾬䔪㽊䁮㾬䘴㮎
㽱㾇㾬䞺㗕 㾬㒭㾬䘴 㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮 㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䣽㽊䛶 䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㧛㗕䛶㾬㗕䟇 䁮㗕䞺䛶䝁䞺䛶㾈 䏑㽊㟧㾬㗕 䞺䛶䘴㟧㾬㽊䁮 㧛䶁 㾬㽊㟧䞺䛶㾈㮎
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㳇䘴㟧㗕㾬㽊㮎
䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 㽊䋱䋱㾬㽊㗕㾬䁮 䣜㾬䘴䞺䁮㾬 㾇䞺䣽䟇 㾇㧛䩎䁮䞺䛶㾈 㧛㯚㟧 㽊 䋱䞺㾬䔪㾬 㧛䶁 䣜㗕㾬㽊䁮㮎
“䖥㟧’䘴 䶁䞺䛶㾬䟇” 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䘴㽊䞺䁮㮎 “㽱㾇㾬 䝁䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧䘴 䛶㾬㾬䁮 䶁㧛㧛䁮 䣽㧛㗕㾬 㟧㾇㽊䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䣽㽊㾈㾬䘴㮎 㽱㾇㾬㗕㾬 䞺䘴䛶’㟧 㾬䛶㧛㯚㾈㾇 䶁㧛㗕 㾬䲬㾬㗕㒭㧛䛶㾬 㟧㧛 㾇㽊䲬㾬 㾬䲬㾬䛶 㟧䏑㧛 䣽㾬㽊䩎䘴 㽊 䁮㽊㒭㮎”
“䖥’䣽 䣽㽊䛶㽊㾈䞺䛶㾈㮎 㝴䞺㗕䔪㯚䩎㽊㟧䞺䛶㾈 䣽㒭 䣽㽊䛶㽊 䘴㯚䋱䋱㗕㾬䘴䘴㾬䘴 㟧㾇㾬 䶁㾬㾬䩎䞺䛶㾈 㧛䶁 㾇㯚䛶㾈㾬㗕㮎”
“㽱㾇㽊㟧 䁮㧛㾬䘴䛶’㟧 㗕㾬䋱䩎㽊䔪㾬 㽊䔪㟧㯚㽊䩎 䛶㯚㟧㗕䞺㾬䛶㟧䘴㮎”
“㳇㟧 䩎㾬㽊䘴㟧 㾬㽊㟧 㟧㾇䞺䘴㮎 㧱㧛 㧛䛶㾬’䘴 㾈㧛䞺䛶㾈 㟧㧛 䣜䩎㽊䣽㾬 㒭㧛㯚 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㽊䝁䞺䛶㾈 㽊 䘴䞺䛶㾈䩎㾬 䣽㾬㽊䩎㮎”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㾬䣻㾇㽊䩎㾬䁮 䉺㯚䞺㾬㟧䩎㒭 䣜㯚㟧 䁮䞺䁮䛶’㟧 㟧㽊䝁㾬 䞺㟧㮎 “䖥䶁 䖥 㾬㽊㟧䟇 䘴㧛䣽㾬㧛䛶㾬 㾬䩎䘴㾬 㾬㽊㟧䘴 䩎㾬䘴䘴㮎 䖥㟧’䘴 䘴䞺䣽䋱䩎㾬 䣽㽊㟧㾇㮎”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䁮䞺䁮䛶’㟧 㗕㾬䘴䋱㧛䛶䁮㮎 䖥䛶䘴㟧㾬㽊䁮䟇 㾇㾬 䣽㯚㟧㟧㾬㗕㾬䁮 㽊 䔪㾇㽊䛶㟧䟇 䔪㽊䘴㟧䞺䛶㾈 㽊 䏑㽊㟧㾬㗕 䘴䋱㾬䩎䩎 㟧㧛 䶁䞺䩎䩎 㾇䞺䘴 䔪㯚䋱㮎
㳇㟧 䩎㾬㽊䘴㟧 䏑㽊㟧㾬㗕 䏑㽊䘴 䛶㾬䲬㾬㗕 㽊 䋱㗕㧛䣜䩎㾬䣽㮎
㳇䛶䁮 䞺㟧 䣽㽊䁮㾬 䘴㾬䛶䘴㾬㮎 㽱䏑㧛 䁮㽊㒭䘴 㽊㾈㧛䟇 㽊 䩎㾬㟧㟧㾬㗕 㾇㽊䁮 㽊㗕㗕䞺䲬㾬䁮䟇 䞺䛶䘴㟧㗕㯚䔪㟧䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬䣽 㟧㧛 㗕㾬㟧㗕㾬㽊㟧 㽊䛶䁮 䩎㾬㟧 㳇䣽㾬䘴㟧䞺䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴 䶁㽊䩎䩎㮎 䒱㾬㟧 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㾇㽊䁮 㗕㾬䶁㯚䘴㾬䁮䟇 䞺䛶䘴䞺䘴㟧䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬㒭 䘴㟧㽊䛶䁮 㟧㾇㾬䞺㗕 㾈㗕㧛㯚䛶䁮㮎
㜶㧛㗕 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㗕㾬㽊䘴㧛䛶䟇 㳇䣽㾬䘴㟧䞺䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴’䘴 䘴㯚䋱䋱䩎㒭 䘴㾇㧛㗕㟧㽊㾈㾬 䏑㽊䘴 㧛䣜䲬䞺㧛㯚䘴㮎 㽱㾇㾬䞺㗕 䋱㗕㧛䲬䞺䘴䞺㧛䛶䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 䣜㾬䞺䛶㾈 䔪㯚㟧 㧛䶁䶁 㧛䛶 䋱㯚㗕䋱㧛䘴㾬㮎
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 䏑㾬䩎䩎㴝䲬㾬㗕䘴㾬䁮 䞺䛶 䘴㯚䔪㾇 䣽㽊㟧㟧㾬㗕䘴䟇 䣜㯚㟧 㾇㾬 䘴㯚䘴䋱㾬䔪㟧㾬䁮 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䶁䞺㗕䘴㟧 㟧䞺䣽㾬 㳇䣽㾬䘴㟧䞺䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴 䏑㽊䘴 㽊䣜㽊䛶䁮㧛䛶㾬䁮㮎
䯆㽊㒭䣜㾬 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䣜㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕 䏑㽊䘴 㗕㾬㾈㯚䩎㽊㗕䩎㒭 䘴㽊䔪㗕䞺䶁䞺䔪㾬䁮 䏑㾇㾬䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䃧㾬䁮 䯆㧛㧛䛶 㾬䲬㾬䛶㟧 䛶㾬㽊㗕㾬䁮 䞺㟧䘴 㾬䛶䁮㮎
㒷㯚㟧 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮䛶’㟧 㽊䩎䩎㧛䏑 䞺㟧㮎
㳉䲬㾬䛶 䞺䶁 䘴㯚䋱䋱䩎䞺㾬䘴 䁮䏑䞺䛶䁮䩎㾬䁮 䣜㒭 㟧㾇㾬 䁮㽊㒭䟇 㾇㾬 㟧㽊䋱䋱㾬䁮 䞺䛶㟧㧛 㾇䞺䘴 㧛䏑䛶 䶁䞺䛶㽊䛶䔪㾬䘴 㟧㧛 䝁㾬㾬䋱 㾬䲬㾬㗕㒭㧛䛶㾬 䶁㾬䁮㮎
䖥䶁 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䘴㯚䔪䔪㾬㾬䁮㾬䁮䟇 㾇䞺䘴 㗕㾬䋱㯚㟧㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶䟇 㽊䛶䁮 㟧㾇㯚䘴 㾇䞺䘴 “䣽㽊㗕䝁㾬㟧 䲬㽊䩎㯚㾬䟇” 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 䘴䝁㒭㗕㧛䔪䝁㾬㟧䟇 䩎䞺䝁㾬䩎㒭 䁮㗕㽊䏑䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 㽊㟧㟧㾬䛶㟧䞺㧛䛶 㧛䶁 㳉䣽䋱㾬㗕㧛㗕 䊈㾬䔪㽊䁮䞺㾬䛶㮎
“䖥 䣽㾬㗕㾬䩎㒭 㾈㽊䲬㾬 㧛㯚㟧 㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕䘴㮎 䖥 㾇㽊䲬㾬 䛶㾬䲬㾬㗕 㾬䲬㾬䛶 䘴㟧㾬䋱䋱㾬䁮 䶁㧛㧛㟧 㧛䛶㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㽊㟧㟧䩎㾬䶁䞺㾬䩎䁮㮎 䖥㟧’䘴 㧛䛶䩎㒭 䛶㽊㟧㯚㗕㽊䩎 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㾬䘴㧛㯚㗕䔪㾬䘴 㾈㾬㟧 㽊䩎䩎㧛䔪㽊㟧㾬䁮 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䏑㽊㒭䟇” 㾇㾬 䘴㽊䞺䁮㮎
䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 䶁㾬䩎䩎 䘴䞺䩎㾬䛶㟧㮎
㽱㾇㽊㟧 䏑㽊䘴䛶’㟧 㾬䛶㟧䞺㗕㾬䩎㒭 㟧㗕㯚㾬 㽊㟧 㽊䩎䩎㮎
“㮎㮎㮎㮎”
㳉䲬㾬䛶 䘴㧛䟇 䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 䁮䞺䁮䛶’㟧 䋱㯚䘴㾇 㽊䛶㒭 䶁㯚㗕㟧㾇㾬㗕㮎 䪹㾇㾬 䘴䞺䣽䋱䩎㒭 䏑㽊㟧䔪㾇㾬䁮 㽊䘴 㾇㾬 䏑㽊䩎䝁㾬䁮 㽊䏑㽊㒭㮎 䖥䶁 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䏑㽊䘴 䏑㾇㽊㟧 㾇㾬 䏑㽊䛶㟧㾬䁮䟇 䏑㾇㧛 䏑㽊䘴 䘴㾇㾬 㟧㧛 䶁㧛㗕䔪㾬 㾇䞺䣽㲗
㽱㾇㾬 㽊䛶䛶㧛㯚䛶䔪㾬䣽㾬䛶㟧 㾬䔪㾇㧛㾬䁮 㟧㾇㗕㧛㯚㾈㾇 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㽊䣽䋱䟇 䔪㽊㗕㗕䞺㾬䁮 䣜㒭 㽊 䏑㾬㽊㗕㒭 㧛䶁䶁䞺䔪㾬㗕 䘴㟧㽊䛶䁮䞺䛶㾈 㽊㟧㧛䋱 㽊 䘴㯚䋱䋱䩎㒭 䔪㗕㽊㟧㾬㮎
䯆㾬㽊䛶䏑㾇䞺䩎㾬䟇 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㽊䁮㩘㯚䘴㟧㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 䔪㧛䩎䩎㽊㗕 㽊䛶䁮 䋱㯚䩎䩎㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 䔪㧛㽊㟧 㟧䞺㾈㾇㟧㾬㗕㮎 㽱㾇㾬 㽊䞺㗕 䏑㽊䘴 䔪㧛䩎䁮㾬㗕 㟧㾇㽊䛶 㯚䘴㯚㽊䩎 㟧㧛䁮㽊㒭㮎
“䄱㧛㧛…㮎”
䄱㾬 䏑㽊䩎䝁㾬䁮 䶁㧛㗕䏑㽊㗕䁮 㽊䘴 㾇䞺䘴 㾈㽊㴊㾬 䘴䏑㾬䋱㟧 㧛䲬㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 䩎䞺䶁㾬䩎㾬䘴䘴 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶 䔪㧛㗕䋱䘴㾬䘴 䘴㟧㗕㾬䏑䛶 㽊䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴 㟧㾇㾬 㾈㗕㧛㯚䛶䁮㮎
㳉䲬㾬䛶㟧㯚㽊䩎䩎㒭䟇 㾇㾬 䘴㟧㧛䋱䋱㾬䁮 㽊㟧 㽊 䋱㽊㗕㟧䞺䔪㯚䩎㽊㗕 䘴䋱㧛㟧㮎
“䖥’䲬㾬 䶁㽊䞺䩎㾬䁮 䘴㧛䣽㾬 㧛䶁 㒭㧛㯚䟇” 㾇㾬 䣽㯚㗕䣽㯚㗕㾬䁮㮎 “㒷㯚㟧 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㾇㧛䘴㾬 䘴㟧䞺䩎䩎 㽊䩎䞺䲬㾬㮎 㜶㧛㗕 㟧㾇㧛䘴㾬 䏑㾇㧛 㗕㾬䣽㽊䞺䛶㾬䁮 㽊䛶䁮 䔪㧛䛶㟧䞺䛶㯚㾬 㟧㧛 䶁䞺㾈㾇㟧 䁮㾬䘴䋱䞺㟧㾬 䣽㒭 䘴㾬䩎䶁䞺䘴㾇䛶㾬䘴䘴䟇 㒭㧛㯚 䏑䞺䩎䩎 㽊䩎䩎 㾇㽊䲬㾬 䣽㒭 䶁㽊䲬㧛㗕 㧛䛶䔪㾬 䖥 䣜㾬䔪㧛䣽㾬 䊈㯚䝁㾬㮎”
“䪹㧛 䋱㾬㗕䘴䞺䘴㟧㮎 㶓㾬㗕䘴䞺䘴㟧 䶁㧛㗕 䣽㾬㮎 䖥 䏑䞺䩎䩎 䛶㧛㟧 㽊䋱㧛䩎㧛㾈䞺㴊㾬 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㾇㾬 䁮㾬㽊䁮䟇 䣜㯚㟧 䖥 䏑䞺䩎䩎 䛶㧛㟧 㽊䣜㽊䛶䁮㧛䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䩎䞺䲬䞺䛶㾈㮎”
㜶䩎䞺䔪䝁—㻣
㳉㽊䔪㾇 䔪䞺㗕䔪㯚䞺㟧 㾇㽊䁮 㽊 䶁䞺䣻㾬䁮 䁮䞺㽊䣽㾬㟧㾬㗕 㽊䛶䁮 䘴䋱㽊䔪䞺䛶㾈䟇 㾬䛶䘴㯚㗕䞺䛶㾈 䣽㽊䛶㽊 䏑㽊䘴 㯚䘴㾬䁮 㾬䶁䶁䞺䔪䞺㾬䛶㟧䩎㒭 䏑㾇䞺䩎㾬 䔪㧛䲬㾬㗕䞺䛶㾈 㽊䘴 䣽㯚䔪㾇 㾈㗕㧛㯚䛶䁮 㽊䘴 䋱㧛䘴䘴䞺䣜䩎㾬㮎
㳇䶁㟧㾬㗕 䛶䞺䛶㾬 㾇㧛㯚㗕䘴 㧛䶁 㗕㾬䋱㾬㽊㟧䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 䋱㗕㧛䔪㾬䘴䘴䟇 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㗕㾬㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮 㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 䶁㧛㗕㟧㗕㾬䘴䘴㮎
㳇䘴 㾇㾬 䏑㽊䩎䝁㾬䁮 㟧㾇㗕㧛㯚㾈㾇 㟧㾇㾬 㾇㽊䩎䩎䘴䟇 㽊 䔪㧛䣽䣽㧛㟧䞺㧛䛶 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㟧㾇㾬 䏑㽊㗕 㗕㧛㧛䣽 䔪㽊㯚㾈㾇㟧 㾇䞺䘴 㽊㟧㟧㾬䛶㟧䞺㧛䛶㮎
——䄱㾬’䘴 䔪䩎㾬㽊㗕䩎㒭 䋱㗕㧛䲬㾬䛶 㾇䞺䣽䘴㾬䩎䶁㻣 䪹㧛 䏑㾇㒭 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 㒭㧛㯚 䩎㾬㽊䲬㾬 䛶㧛䏑䟇 㽊䶁㟧㾬㗕 䔪㧛䣽䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䶁㽊㗕㲗 㝴㽊䛶’㟧 㒭㧛㯚 䘴㾬㾬 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㾬䏑㽊㗕䁮䘴 㟧㾇㽊㟧’䩎䩎 䔪㧛䣽㾬 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㟧㾇䞺䘴㲗
——䒱㧛㯚 㟧㾇䞺䛶䝁 䞺㟧’䘴 㽊䛶㒭 䁮䞺䶁䶁㾬㗕㾬䛶㟧 䶁㧛㗕 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㾬䘴㟧 㧛䶁 㯚䘴㲗㻣
䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 䏑㽊䘴 㽊㗕㾈㯚䞺䛶㾈 䏑䞺㟧㾇 㽊 㾈㗕㧛㯚䋱 㧛䶁 䝁䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧䘴㮎 䪹㧛䣽㾬 䏑㽊䛶㟧㾬䁮 㟧㧛 䩎㾬㽊䲬㾬䟇 䁮㾬䘴䋱䞺㟧㾬 㟧㾇㾬 㾇䞺㾈㾇 䔪㾇㽊䛶䔪㾬 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㟧㾇䞺䘴 䏑㧛㯚䩎䁮 䣜㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䶁䞺䛶㽊䩎 䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧㮎
“㒷㧛㧛㮎”
“㮎㮎㮎㮎㲗”
“㵔㾬 䶁䞺䛶䞺䘴㾇㾬䁮 㧛㯚㗕 䞺䛶䲬㾬䘴㟧䞺㾈㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶䘴 㾬㽊㗕䩎䞺㾬㗕䟇” 䘴㾇㾬 䘴㽊䞺䁮㮎 “㽱㾇㾬㗕㾬’䘴 㽊 㾇䞺㾈㾇 䔪㾇㽊䛶䔪㾬 㽊 䊈㯚䩎䩎㽊㾇㽊䛶 䏑䞺䩎䩎 㽊䋱䋱㾬㽊㗕 㟧㧛䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧㮎 㽱㾇㽊㟧’䘴 䏑㾇㒭 㟧㾇㾬㒭’㗕㾬 㗕㾬䘴㟧䩎㾬䘴䘴㮎”
“䖥䘴 㟧㾇㽊㟧 䘴㧛㲗”
“㵔㾇㽊㟧 㽊㗕㾬 㒭㧛㯚 㾈㧛䞺䛶㾈 㟧㧛 䁮㧛㲗” 䘴㾇㾬 㽊䘴䝁㾬䁮㮎
“䖥䘴 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㾬䲬㾬䛶 㽊 䉺㯚㾬䘴㟧䞺㧛䛶㲗”
“䊈㧛 䏑㾇㽊㟧㾬䲬㾬㗕 㒭㧛㯚 䏑㽊䛶㟧䟇” 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䘴㽊䞺䁮䟇 㽊䩎㗕㾬㽊䁮㒭 䏑㽊䩎䝁䞺䛶㾈 䋱㽊䘴㟧 㾇㾬㗕㮎 “㳇䘴 䩎㧛䛶㾈 㽊䘴 㟧㾇㾬㒭 䁮㧛䛶’㟧 㾈㾬㟧 䞺䛶 䣽㒭 䏑㽊㒭㮎”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䣽㽊䁮㾬 㾬䛶㟧㾬㗕㾬䁮 㟧㾇㾬 䏑㽊㗕 㗕㧛㧛䣽䟇 䏑㾇㾬㗕㾬 䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧䟇 㝴㧛䣽䣽㽊䛶䁮㾬㗕 㳇䩎䣜㗕㾬䔪㾇㟧 㽊䛶䁮 䘴㾬䲬㾬㗕㽊䩎 㾇䞺㾈㾇㴝㗕㽊䛶䝁䞺䛶㾈 㧛䶁䶁䞺䔪㾬㗕䘴 䏑㾬㗕㾬 㽊䩎㗕㾬㽊䁮㒭 㾈㽊㟧㾇㾬㗕㾬䁮 㽊㗕㧛㯚䛶䁮 㽊 䩎㽊㗕㾈㾬 䣽㽊䋱 㧛䶁 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㾬㾈䞺㧛䛶㮎
㽱㾇㾬 㟧㾬䛶䘴䞺㧛䛶 䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㧛㧛䣽 䏑㽊䘴 䋱㽊䩎䋱㽊䣜䩎㾬㮎
“㽱㾇㾬 㗕㾬䋱㧛㗕㟧䘴 㽊㗕㾬 䔪㧛䛶䘴䞺䘴㟧㾬䛶㟧䟇” 㽊 䜌㗕䞺䣽㗕㾬㽊䋱㾬㗕 䖥䛶䘴䋱㾬䔪㟧㧛㗕 䘴㽊䞺䁮㮎 “㽱㾇㾬 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶䞺䔪 䣽䞺㽊䘴䣽㽊 䞺䘴 䔪㧛䛶䔪㾬䛶㟧㗕㽊㟧䞺䛶㾈 䛶㾬㽊㗕 㟧㾇㾬 䏑㾬䘴㟧㾬㗕䛶 㧛㯚㟧䋱㧛䘴㟧㮎 䖥䶁 㽊 䊈㯚䩎䩎㽊㾇㽊䛶 䣽㽊䛶䞺䶁㾬䘴㟧䘴䟇 䞺㟧’䩎䩎 䣜㾬 㟧㾇㾬㗕㾬㮎”
“㝴㾇㽊䛶㾈㾬 㧛䶁 䋱䩎㽊䛶䘴䟇” 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䘴㽊䞺䁮 㽊䘴 㾇㾬 䘴㟧㾬䋱䋱㾬䁮 䞺䛶㟧㧛 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㧛㧛䣽㮎
㳇䩎䩎 㾇㾬㽊䁮䘴 㟧㯚㗕䛶㾬䁮 㟧㧛䏑㽊㗕䁮 㾇䞺䣽㮎
㳇 䣽㯚㗕䣽㯚㗕 䘴䋱㗕㾬㽊䁮 㽊䣽㧛䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 㧛䶁䶁䞺䔪㾬㗕䘴㮎
“䖥䶁 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㟧㾇䞺䛶㾈 㗕㾬㽊䔪㾇㾬䘴 㟧㾇㾬 䣽㽊䞺䛶 䣜㽊㟧㟧䩎㾬䶁䞺㾬䩎䁮䟇 䞺㟧’䩎䩎 䶁㧛㗕䔪㾬 㾬䲬㾬㗕㒭㧛䛶㾬 㟧㧛 䘴㾇䞺䶁㟧 㟧㾇㾬䞺㗕 䶁㧛䔪㯚䘴 㟧㧛 䞺㟧䟇” 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㾬䣻䋱䩎㽊䞺䛶㾬䁮㮎 “㳇䛶䁮 䏑㾇㾬䛶 㟧㾇㽊㟧 㾇㽊䋱䋱㾬䛶䘴䟇 㟧㾇㾬 㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕 䁮㾬䣽㧛䛶䘴 䏑䞺䩎䩎 㟧㽊䝁㾬 㽊䁮䲬㽊䛶㟧㽊㾈㾬 㧛䶁 㟧㾇㾬 㧛䋱㾬䛶䞺䛶㾈㮎 㵔㾬’䩎䩎 䘴㯚䶁䶁㾬㗕 㯚䛶䛶㾬䔪㾬䘴䘴㽊㗕㒭 䩎㧛䘴䘴㾬䘴㮎”
“䒱㾬䘴㮎 䖥䶁 䏑㾬 䝁㾬㾬䋱 䞺㟧 䶁㗕㧛䣽 㗕㾬㽊䔪㾇䞺䛶㾈 㟧㾇㾬 䣜㧛㗕䁮㾬㗕䟇 䏑㾬 㽊䲬㧛䞺䁮 㽊 䘴䞺㟧㯚㽊㟧䞺㧛䛶 䏑㾇㾬㗕㾬 㧛㯚㗕 䶁㧛㗕䔪㾬䘴 㽊㗕㾬 㧛䲬㾬㗕䏑㾇㾬䩎䣽㾬䁮 㧛䛶 㟧䏑㧛 䶁㗕㧛䛶㟧䘴㮎”
㽱㾇㾬 㧛䶁䶁䞺䔪㾬㗕䘴 㾬䣻䔪㾇㽊䛶㾈㾬䁮 㾈䩎㽊䛶䔪㾬䘴䟇 䋱㧛䛶䁮㾬㗕䞺䛶㾈 㧛䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䘴㟧㗕㽊㟧㾬㾈㒭㮎
“䖥’䩎䩎 㾬䲬㽊䩎㯚㽊㟧㾬 㟧㾇㾬 䔪㽊䛶䁮䞺䁮㽊㟧㾬䘴 䣽㒭䘴㾬䩎䶁䟇” 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㗕㾬䋱䩎䞺㾬䁮㮎
㳇 䘴䞺䩎㾬䛶䔪㾬 䶁㾬䩎䩎 㧛䲬㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 㗕㧛㧛䣽 䣜㾬䶁㧛㗕㾬 㳇䩎䣜㗕㾬䔪㾇㟧 䶁䞺䛶㽊䩎䩎㒭 䘴䋱㧛䝁㾬㮎 “㽱㾇㾬䛶 䏑㾇㧛 㽊㗕㾬 㒭㧛㯚 㟧㽊䝁䞺䛶㾈㲗”
“㵔㽊䞺㟧…㮎 䘴㧛 㒭㧛㯚’㗕㾬 䔪㧛䣽䞺䛶㾈 㽊䩎㧛䛶㾈䟇 㶓㗕㧛䶁㾬䘴䘴㧛㗕㲗” 䘴㧛䣽㾬㧛䛶㾬 㽊䘴䝁㾬䁮㮎 “㽱㾇㾬䛶 䏑㾇㽊㟧 㽊䣜㧛㯚㟧 㟧㾇㾬 㟧㗕㽊䋱䘴 㒭㧛㯚 䘴㾬㟧㲗 㳇䛶䁮… 䏑㾇㧛 䏑䞺䩎䩎 䩎㾬㽊䁮 㯚䘴㲗”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㾈䩎㽊䛶䔪㾬䁮 㽊㟧 㳇䩎䣜㗕㾬䔪㾇㟧㮎 “㵔㾇㧛 㾬䩎䘴㾬㲗 䒱㧛㯚㗕 䔪㧛䣽䣽㽊䛶䁮㾬㗕㮎 䖥’䩎䩎 䘴㟧㽊㒭 䏑䞺㟧㾇䞺䛶 㗕㽊䛶㾈㾬 㟧㧛 㽊䔪㟧䞺䲬㽊㟧㾬 㟧㾇㾬 㟧㗕㽊䋱䘴 㽊䛶䁮 䋱㗕㧛䲬䞺䁮㾬 䘴㯚䋱䋱㧛㗕㟧 䏑㾇䞺䩎㾬 㽊䘴䘴䞺䘴㟧䞺䛶㾈 䞺䛶 㟧㾇㾬 䶁䞺㾈㾇㟧 㽊㾈㽊䞺䛶䘴㟧 㟧㾇㾬 䊈㯚䩎䩎㽊㾇㽊䛶㮎”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 䔪㾇㯚䔪䝁䩎㾬䁮㮎 䖥㟧 䏑㽊䘴 䘴㯚㗕䋱㗕䞺䘴䞺䛶㾈 㾇㧛䏑 䘴㧛䣽㾬 䋱㾬㧛䋱䩎㾬’䘴 㽊㟧㟧䞺㟧㯚䁮㾬䘴 㟧㧛䏑㽊㗕䁮 㾇䞺䣽 㾇㽊䁮 䔪㾇㽊䛶㾈㾬䁮㮎 “䊈㧛䛶’㟧 䏑㧛㗕㗕㒭䟇 䖥—”
㒷㾬䶁㧛㗕㾬 㾇㾬 䔪㧛㯚䩎䁮 䶁䞺䛶䞺䘴㾇䟇 㾇䞺䘴 䣜㧛䁮㒭 䘴㯚䁮䁮㾬䛶䩎㒭 㾈㽊䲬㾬 㧛㯚㟧㮎
“㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴㻣”
“…㲗”
“㳇㾇䟇 㒭㧛㯚㗕 䛶㧛䘴㾬㮎…” 䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧’䘴 䲬㧛䞺䔪㾬 㾇㾬䩎䁮 䔪䩎㾬㽊㗕 䔪㧛䛶䔪㾬㗕䛶㮎
䄱㾬 㟧㧛㯚䔪㾇㾬䁮 䣜㾬䛶㾬㽊㟧㾇 㾇䞺䘴 䛶㧛䘴㟧㗕䞺䩎䘴 㽊䛶䁮 㗕㽊䞺䘴㾬䁮 㽊 䣜㗕㧛䏑 㽊㟧 䏑㾇㽊㟧 㾇㾬 䘴㽊䏑㮎
㒷䩎㧛㧛䁮㮎
㜭㯚䞺䔪䝁䩎㒭䟇 㾇㾬 䏑䞺䋱㾬䁮 䞺㟧 㽊䏑㽊㒭 䏑䞺㟧㾇 㾇䞺䘴 䘴䩎㾬㾬䲬㾬 㽊䛶䁮 㟧㗕䞺㾬䁮 䘴㟧㾬㽊䁮㒭䞺䛶㾈 㾇䞺䘴 䲬䞺䘴䞺㧛䛶㮎
“䖥’䣽 䶁䞺䛶㾬㮎”
“㧱㧛䟇 㒭㧛㯚’㗕㾬 䛶㧛㟧䟇” 䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 䘴㽊䞺䁮䟇 㽊㗕䣽䘴 䔪㗕㧛䘴䘴㾬䁮㮎 “䒱㧛㯚 㾇㽊䲬㾬䛶’㟧 㾬㽊㟧㾬䛶 䞺䛶 䁮㽊㒭䘴䟇 㽊䛶䁮 㒭㧛㯚’䲬㾬 䣜㾬㾬䛶 㧛䲬㾬㗕㯚䘴䞺䛶㾈 㒭㧛㯚㗕 䣽㽊䛶㽊㮎 䖥 䁮㧛䛶’㟧 㟧㾇䞺䛶䝁 䖥’䲬㾬 㾬䲬㾬䛶 䘴㾬㾬䛶 㒭㧛㯚 䘴䩎㾬㾬䋱㮎 䄱㽊䲬㾬 㒭㧛㯚 䣜㾬㾬䛶 䋱㗕㾬䋱㽊㗕䞺䛶㾈 㟧㗕㽊䋱䘴 㽊䩎䩎 㟧㾇㾬 㟧䞺䣽㾬㲗 䖥㟧’䘴 䔪㽊㟧䔪㾇䞺䛶㾈 㯚䋱 㟧㧛 㒭㧛㯚㮎”
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㾬䣻㾇㽊䩎㾬䁮 䘴䩎㧛䏑䩎㒭㮎 “䚚㯚䘴㟧 㾈䞺䲬㾬 䣽㾬 㽊 䘴㾬䔪㧛䛶䁮㮎”
䄱㾬 䘴㟧㗕㽊䞺㾈㾇㟧㾬䛶㾬䁮 㽊䛶䁮 䘴㟧㾬㽊䁮䞺㾬䁮 㾇䞺䣽䘴㾬䩎䶁㮎
䯆㽊㗕㾈㽊㗕㾬㟧 䩎㧛㧛䝁㾬䁮 㯚䛶䔪㧛䛶䲬䞺䛶䔪㾬䁮䟇 䣜㯚㟧 䘴㾇㾬 䁮䞺䁮䛶’㟧 㽊㗕㾈㯚㾬㮎 䖥䛶䘴㟧㾬㽊䁮䟇 㳇䩎䣜㗕㾬䔪㾇㟧 䔪䩎㾬㽊㗕㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 㟧㾇㗕㧛㽊㟧㮎
“㽱㾇㾬䛶 䩎㾬㟧’䘴 䛶㧛㟧 䏑㽊䘴㟧㾬 㟧䞺䣽㾬㮎”
㽱㾇㾬 䝁䛶䞺㾈㾇㟧䘴 䘴㟧㧛㧛䁮 㗕㾬㽊䁮㒭 䣜㾬䩎㧛䏑㮎 䪹㧛䣽㾬 䣽㧛㯚䛶㟧㾬䁮䟇 㧛㟧㾇㾬㗕䘴 㧛䛶 䶁㧛㧛㟧㮎 䄱㧛㗕䘴㾬䘴 㾇㽊䁮 䣜㾬䔪㧛䣽㾬 䘴䔪㽊㗕䔪㾬䟇 䣜㯚㟧 㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴’䘴 䘴㟧㗕㽊㟧㾬㾈䞺䔪 䔪㧛䣽䋱㗕㧛䣽䞺䘴㾬䘴 㾇㽊䁮 䝁㾬䋱㟧 㟧㾇㾬䣽 㽊䩎䞺䲬㾬 㟧㾇㯚䘴 䶁㽊㗕㮎
㶲㽊䛶䞺㟧㽊䘴 㗕㯚䣜䣜㾬䁮 㾇䞺䘴 㟧㾬䣽䋱䩎㾬 䣜㾬䶁㧛㗕㾬 䘴㟧㾬䋱䋱䞺䛶㾈 䶁㧛㗕䏑㽊㗕䁮䟇 㾇䞺䘴 㾈㽊㴊㾬 䘴䏑㾬㾬䋱䞺䛶㾈 㧛䲬㾬㗕 㟧㾇㾬 㽊㗕㾬㽊㮎
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