The Damned Demon - Chapter 274

Chapter 273: Whispers Of The Rebellious Heart
䀗䢆㶷㠳㺦㽬㰕㻨㑔㦖㰕㚶㺦㺦㦖䢆䢆㧗㰕䓩㑔㚶䀗䀗㺦㰕㷞㳼㚶㵲䢆㦖㺦㤏䢵㚶㰕㰕㰕㻨㚶㺦䍐㑔㰕䓩䢆㑔㽱㺦㚶㽬盧櫓㚶㽬䢵㚶㰕䓩䢵㽬䀗㠳㵲㰕㯒擄魯虜虜擄䓩䐷㦖䍐㰕䢵㚶蘆㺦㰕㠳䀗㻨㰕㦖䍐㺦㽬㽱䈲㦖䓩䓩㤏䀗㰕䍐㻨㠳㦖㺦㺦㷞虜老䢵㰕䍐㠳䢆㵲䢆㯒䓩䍐

㽧㷞㚶 䓩㷞㠳㠳㰕㺦䍐㤏㽱 㽬䓩 㦖㵲 㿪䢆䍐㚶㰕㠳 㵲䀗䢆㑔 㽬 㠳䀗㰕㽬㑔㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖 䐷㷞䍐䍐㰕㠳 㹀㽬㳼䈲㧗 㩏䢵㰕 䢵㽬䓩㚶㦖䍐㤏 㑔䢆㠦㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㹀䢆㠳㤏 㚶䢆 㚶䢵㰕 䓩㦖㠳㰕㽱 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㵲䍐㷞䓩䢵㦖㺦㻨 㽬 㹀䀗㦖䍐䍐㦖㽬㺦㚶 䓩䢵㽬㠳㰕 䢆㵲 䀗㰕㠳㧗

㖆䢵㰕 䀗㰕㽬䍐㦖㠹㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦 䢆㵲 㯒䢵㽬㚶 䢵㽬㠳 㿪㷞䓩㚶 䢵㽬䐷䐷㰕㺦㰕㠳 䓩㰕㰕㑔㰕㠳 㚶䢆 㳼䀗㽬䓩䢵 䢆㠦㰕䀗 䢵㰕䀗 䍐㦖䈲㰕 㽬 㯒㽬㠦㰕㧗 䗑㺦 㽬 㵲䍐㷞䓩㚶㰕䀗㰕㠳 㚶䢆㺦㰕㽱 䓩䢵㰕 䞰㷞㦖㳼䈲䍐㤏 㳼䢆㠦㰕䀗㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㯒㦖㚶䢵 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㽬㺦㠳䓩㽱 䢵㰕䀗 㠦䢆㦖㳼㰕 㑔㷞㵲㵲䍐㰕㠳 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 䓩㚶㽬㑔㑔㰕䀗㰕㠳㽱 “㻎㡑㻎䍐㰕㽬䓩㰕 㵲䢆䀗㻨㰕㚶 㯒䢵㽬㚶 㿪㷞䓩㚶 䢵㽬䐷䐷㰕㺦㰕㠳…”

㤏䢵㯒䢵㯒㧗㧗㤏㧗㵲䍐㰕㰕㦖㠳㠳䢵㰕䀗㹀㰕㽬䍐䍐㹀㤏㻨㰕㺦㹀㦖㦖䓩㽱䈲䓩㹀㽬㚶䢵㰕㠳㽬㰕㠦㺦㰕䀗䓩䢵㰕㰕䢵㽱䓩䀗㪪䢵㚶㦖㯒䢵㰕䀗䢵㰕䀗㚶䢆㚶䀗㵲㦖䓩㚶㚶䢵㽬㦖㰕䈲䍐㰕䢵㩏䢵䢆䢆㚶㦖䍐㺦㻨㶣㑔㳼䀗㽬㠹㤏䓩㚶㿪㷞㦖䈲䓩䓩㰕䀗㽬㚶䢵㷞䢆㠳䍐㯒㵲䢆䈲䓩㦖㧗䓩㺦㠳㪪㚶䓩䀗㦖㵲㰕㚶䚾㚶㯒㽬䓩’㺦䀗䍐㰕㽬䍐㤏䢵䢆㚶䢵㻨㷞㚶䐷㧗䐷㰕䍐㰕䢆㚶㦖䓩㽬㯒䓩㽬㯒㦖㚶㽬䏡䓩䢵㶣㦖㑔㰕䍐䐷㑔㦖䓩㚶㦖

㪪㚶 䢵㰕䀗 䓩㷞㠳㠳㰕㺦 䀗㰕㚶䀗㰕㽬㚶㽱 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳㺦’㚶 䢵㰕䍐䐷 㹀㷞㚶 㳼䢵㷞㳼䈲䍐㰕㧗

㵈㰕 㽬㠳㑔㦖䀗㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㵲䍐㷞䓩㚶㰕䀗㰕㠳 䓩㚶㽬㚶㰕 㵲䢆䀗 㽬 㑔䢆㑔㰕㺦㚶 㹀㰕㵲䢆䀗㰕 䀗㰕㽬㳼䢵㦖㺦㻨 䢆㷞㚶 㚶䢆 㻨㰕㺦㚶䍐㤏 䐷㷞䍐䍐 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㽬㺦㠳䓩 㽬㯒㽬㤏 㵲䀗䢆㑔 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕㧗 㵈㦖䓩 㰕㤏㰕䓩 㯒㰕䀗㰕 䓩䢆㵲㚶㽱 䢵㦖䓩 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕 㳼䢵㽬䀗㑔㦖㺦㻨 㽬䓩 䢵㰕 䐷䢆䓩㰕㠳 㽬 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㽱 “䏡䢵㤏 䓩䢵䢆㷞䍐㠳 䗑 㵲䢆䀗㻨㰕㚶 䓩䢆㑔㰕㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䗑 㠳䢆㺦’㚶 㯒㽬㺦㚶 㚶䢆㶣” 䢵㰕 㽬䓩䈲㰕㠳 㽬䓩 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕 㹀䢆䀗㰕 㦖㺦㚶䢆 䢵㰕䀗䓩㽱 䀗㰕㵲㷞䓩㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢆 䍐䢆䢆䈲 㽬㯒㽬㤏 㽬䓩 䢵㰕 㽬㠳㠳㰕㠳㽱 “㪪㺦㠳 䗑’㑔 䞰㷞㦖㚶㰕 䓩㷞䀗㰕㽱 㤏䢆㷞 㠳䢆㺦’㚶 㯒㽬㺦㚶 㚶䢆 㵲䢆䀗㻨㰕㚶 㰕㦖㚶䢵㰕䀗㧗”

㵈㦖䓩㵲䢆㻨㚶䀗䢵㦖㷞䀗䢆㑔㚶㦖䍐㵲㦖㚶䢆㑔㦖䓩㺦䢆㰕㰕䀗㰕㯒㰕䢵䀗㰕䓩㤏㰕㧗㰕㠳㳼㺦䢆㺦㵲㦖㽱㚶䓩㰕㰕㰕䢵㚶㰕㻨㽬㺦㦖䀗㠳䢵䀗㰕㽱䀗䓩䢆㠳㯒㰕䢵㽬䓩㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳㦖㺦䢵㻨㚶䢆䢵䀗㷞

㖆䢵㰕 䓩㚶㽬㚶㰕㑔㰕㺦㚶 㯒㽬䓩㺦’㚶 㽬㺦 㽬㳼㳼㷞䓩㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦㽱 㹀㷞㚶 䀗㽬㚶䢵㰕䀗 㽬 䓩㦖㑔䐷䍐㰕 㵲㽬㳼㚶㽱 㚶䢵㽬㚶 㑔㽬㠳㰕 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 䀗㽬㳼㰕 㽬䍐䍐 䢆㠦㰕䀗 㽬㻨㽬㦖㺦㽱 㑔㽬䈲㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 㯒䢆㺦㠳㰕䀗 㯒䢵㤏 䓩䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳㺦’㚶 㿪㷞䓩㚶 㻨㰕㚶 㽬 䢵䢆䍐㠳 䢆㵲 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㰕㰕䍐㦖㺦㻨䓩㧗

“䚃䢆…㤏䢆㷞 㽬䀗㰕 㯒䀗䢆㺦㻨…䗑 㯒㽬䓩㺦’㚶 㚶䢵㦖㺦䈲㦖㺦㻨 䓩㚶䀗㽬㦖㻨䢵㚶…” 䭓㽬㷞㻨䢵㚶 㦖㺦 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 䢆㺦䍐㤏 䐷㷞㚶 㚶䢆㻨㰕㚶䢵㰕䀗 㽬 䞰㷞㦖㳼䈲 䀗㰕㚶䢆䀗㚶㽱 䢵㰕䀗 㑔㦖㺦㠳 䓩㚶㦖䍐䍐 䀗㰕㰕䍐㦖㺦㻨 㵲䀗䢆㑔 㚶䢵㰕 㷞㺦㰕䢓䐷㰕㳼㚶㰕㠳 㚶㷞䀗㺦 䢆㵲 㰕㠦㰕㺦㚶䓩㧗

㽬㵲䢆㰕䢵䓩䓩㽱㽬㠳㦖㽬㚶䢵㯒䢵㚶㰕㚶䀗㽬䐷㚶䚾㰕㽬䢆㵲㽱䀗㰕䢵㚶’㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳㺦㽱㰕䀗䢵㽬䐷㚶䀗㚶䢵㦖㻨䈲㦖㺦㺦䓩㚶㠳㰕㦖䐷㰕㳼㺦㻨㽬㦖㵲㦖䓩㺦㚶㦖㚶㷞㽬㹀䢆䐷㚶䢆䓩䈲㦖䓩䓩㧗

“䚾䢆㷞 㚶䢵㦖㺦䈲 䓩䢆㶣” 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㰕㠳㽱 㽬 䐷䍐㽬㤏㵲㷞䍐 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕 㚶㷞㻨㻨㦖㺦㻨 㽬㚶 䢵㦖䓩 䍐㦖䐷䓩㧗 “㽧㷞㚶 㤏䢆㷞 䈲㦖䓩䓩㰕㠳 㑔㰕 㹀㽬㳼䈲㧗 䚾䢆㷞 㳼㽬㺦’㚶 㠳㰕㺦㤏 㚶䢵㽬㚶㧗 䏡䢵㰕㚶䢵㰕䀗 㤏䢆㷞 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶 㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶 㦖㚶 䢆䀗 㺦䢆㚶㽱 㯒䢵㰕㺦 㤏䢆㷞 䈲㦖䓩䓩 䓩䢆㑔㰕䢆㺦㰕㽱 㚶䢵㽬㚶 㷞䓩㷞㽬䍐䍐㤏 㑔㰕㽬㺦䓩 㤏䢆㷞 䍐㦖䈲㰕 㚶䢵㰕 䐷㰕䀗䓩䢆㺦㧗”

㵈㰕㧗㧗㧗䍐㦖䈲㰕䓩 㑔㰕㶣

㦖䓩”䀗䢿㺦䢆䀗㑔㽬䍐䢆㚶㵲䢆䀗㻨䢆㚶㦖䢆㷞㤏䓩㻨䓩㦖䈲㦖㺦䢆㽬䀗㷞㠳㺦䐷”㰕䢆䍐㶣㰕䐷

䭓㰕㚶㦖 䢵㽬䀗䀗㷞㑔䐷䢵㰕㠳 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 㻨㽬㠦㰕 䢵㦖㑔 㽬㺦 㽬㻨㻨䀗㦖㰕㠦㰕㠳 㻨䍐㽬䀗㰕㽱 “䢿㵲 㳼䢆㷞䀗䓩㰕 㺦䢆㚶䩀”

䭓㰕㚶㦖 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳㺦’㚶 㹀㰕䍐㦖㰕㠦㰕 䢵䢆㯒 䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㽬䓩䓩㷞㑔㰕 䓩㷞㳼䢵 㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨䓩 㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶 䢵㰕䀗 㽬㺦㠳 㽬㠳㠳㰕㠳 㦖㺦 㚶䢵㰕 䢵㰕㽬㚶 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕 㑔䢆㑔㰕㺦㚶㽱 “㖆䢵㦖䓩 㯒㽬䓩 㑔㤏 㵲㦖䀗䓩㚶…” 㩏䢵㰕 㚶䀗㽬㦖䍐㰕㠳 䢆㵲㵲 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㦖㺦㳼㰕㠳㧗

㺦㰕䢵㚶䍐㦖䈲㰕㰕䢵䓩㷞䢆”㽱㤏㳼㦖㷞䞰䈲䍐㤏䢵㺦㚶㦖㰕䢵㚶䢵㰕䀗䀗㧗䢵㰕㰕䀗䢵㵲䢆䀗㑔㵲䢆㵲㰕㽬㳼䓩㽬㯒㽬㤏㽱㽬䢆㵲㰕䀗㚶㽬䍐㦖㤏䢵㰕䀗㽱䢆㵲㵲㵲䢆䢵㦖㰕㠳䢵䓩㰕㰕㑔䢵㚶㧗㰕䓩㧗”䍐㧗㰕”㽧㷞㡑㽧…㚶䗑䍐㦖㠳㚶㰕䀗㽬㷞䢆㳼㠳䍐䀗㰕㠦䢆”䗑㦖㵲㠦䢆㦖㳼㰕㑔㦖㽱䢵㻨㺦㽬䐷㚶㠳㷞䀗㰕㺦䓩㽬䓩㠳䀗䢆㯒㵲䍐㠳㷞䓩㰕䢵㠳㚶䢆㺦’䢵䓩㽬㠳㰕㯒㦖㺦㵈㰕䀗㠳㽬㰕䢵㷞㻨䍐㚶㦖䈲㦖㧗㧗㰕㧗䍐㵲㰕㽬㠳㰕㽱㳼㦖㺦㰕䢆㺦㰕䢆䓩㑔㳼㦖䀗㽬䀗㻨㤏㺦䀗㚶㰕䢆㚶㽱㠳䀗㰕㩏䢵㰕㽬㻨㦖䈲㺦㦖䓩㺦

㩏㦖䍐㠦㽬㺦’䓩 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㵲䍐㽬䓩䢵㰕㠳 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㑔㦖㺦㠳㽱 䢵㦖䓩 䓩䢆㵲㚶 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕䓩 㽬㺦㠳 䢵㦖䓩 㳼䢆㺦㵲㰕䓩䓩㦖䢆㺦䓩 䢆㵲 䍐䢆㠦㰕 㵲㦖䍐䍐㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶䓩㧗

㪪 䓩㷞㹀㚶䍐㰕 䍐㽬㷞㻨䢵 㰕䓩㳼㽬䐷㰕㠳 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 䍐㦖䐷䓩 㽬㚶 䢵㰕䀗 䐷䀗䢆㳼䍐㽬㑔㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦㽱 “䢿䢵㽱 䓩䢆 㦖㚶’䓩 㩏㦖䍐㠦㽬㺦 㤏䢆㷞 㵲㽬㺦㳼㤏㶣” 㵈㰕 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㰕㠳㽱 㳼䍐㰕㽬䀗䍐㤏 㽬㑔㷞䓩㰕㠳㽱 “㽧㷞㚶 㦖㵲 㚶䢵㽬㚶’䓩 㚶䢵㰕 㳼㽬䓩㰕㽱 㯒䢵㤏 䢵㽬㠦㰕㺦’㚶 㤏䢆㷞 㚶㯒䢆 㹀㰕㳼䢆㑔㰕 㽬㺦 㦖㚶㰕㑔 㤏㰕㚶㶣 㐩䢆㺦’㚶 㻨㦖㠦㰕 㑔㰕 㽬 㹀䢆䀗㦖㺦㻨 㰕䢓㳼㷞䓩㰕 䍐㦖䈲㰕 㤏䢆㷞 㠳㦖㠳㺦’㚶 㯒㽬㺦㚶 㚶䢆 㑔㽬䈲㰕 䢵㦖㑔 䍐䢆䓩㰕 㵲㽬㳼㰕 䢆䀗 䓩䢆㑔㰕㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨㧗 䗑 䈲㺦䢆㯒 㚶䢵㰕䀗㰕 㦖䓩 䓩䢆㑔㰕㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨 㰕䍐䓩㰕㧗”

㦖㦖㯒㯒㠳㺦䍐䢵䀗 㠳䢆䓩㰕㳼䍐㰕䢵㩏㧗䀗㰕䢵㽱䞰㺦㷞㚶㰕䓩㦖䢆㵲䢆 㰕䐷䢆㚶㠳㦖㺦㽬 㳼㦖㻨㺦㵲䍐䢆㳼㦖㺦㚶 㠳㽬㺦㚶䢆 䢆㚶 㹀㷞㚶䓩䀗㯒㺦㰕㽬䓩㰕㦖㚶㑔㽱 㠳㺦㦖㵲㻨䍐㠳㚶㻨㰕䀗䓩㷞 㑔㺦㠳㦖㺦㽬 㵲㽬㦖䍐㰕㠳㵈㰕䀗 䢵㰕䀗 䓩䍐䐷㦖 㚶䢆䓩㑔㰕㧗㦖㺦䢆㯒㠳䓩䢆䀗㪪’㰕䓩䀗䓩䢵 㚶㽬䐷㠳㰕䀗㠦䀗㽬㰕䍐㰕䓩

㩏㰕㰕㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 䢆㹀㠦㦖䢆㷞䓩 䢵㰕䓩㦖㚶㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦㽱 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 䓩㷞㹀㚶䍐㰕 䓩㑔㦖䀗䈲 㻨䀗㰕㯒 㑔䢆䀗㰕 䐷䀗䢆㺦䢆㷞㺦㳼㰕㠳㧗

㵈㰕 䓩䢵㦖㵲㚶㰕㠳 䢆㺦 㚶䢵㰕 㹀㰕㠳㽱 㑔䢆㠦㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢆 䓩㦖㚶 㹀㰕䢵㦖㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗㽱 “䗑’㠦㰕 㽬䍐㯒㽬㤏䓩 䢆㹀䓩㰕䀗㠦㰕㠳 㤏䢆㷞 㽬㺦㠳 㩏㦖䍐㠦㽬㺦㽱 㽬䍐䍐䢆㯒㦖㺦㻨 㑔㰕 㚶䢆 䍐㰕㽬䀗㺦 䓩䢆㑔㰕 㦖㺦㚶㰕䀗㰕䓩㚶㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨䓩㽱” 䢵㰕 㽬㠳㑔㦖㚶㚶㰕㠳㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㠦䢆㦖㳼㰕 䞰㷞㦖㰕㚶 㤏㰕㚶 㳼㽬䀗䀗㤏㦖㺦㻨 㽬㺦 㷞㺦㠳㰕㺦㦖㽬㹀䍐㰕 㳼䢆㺦㠦㦖㳼㚶㦖䢆㺦㧗

㹀㠳䍐䈲㺦㰕㦖㦖㚶㺦㰕䓩㚶㰕䀗䢵㰕䀗㳼㷞䢵䓩䏡䢵㤏㷞䢆㠳㺦㻨㺦䐷㦖㰕䀗䢵㦖㽬㺦䓩䍐’㩏㠦㽬㺦㠳㰕䭓㚶㦖㦖㺦䢵㚶㰕㧗㳼䓩㦖䓩䢵㦖㺦㽬䀗㚶䐷㰕䢆䍐㶣㺦㦖䀗㰕䢵㦖䓩㷞䐷䓩䀗㰕㽱䀗䢵㰕㦖㺦䢆䍐㯒㠳㷞䢵㚶㰕㽬䀗㚶㽬㰕䈲

㽧㷞㚶 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 㳼䢆㺦㚶㦖㺦㷞㰕㠳㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㯒䢆䀗㠳䓩 䓩䍐䢆㯒 㽬㺦㠳 㑔㰕㽬䓩㷞䀗㰕㠳㽱 “䗑 䓩㰕㰕 㚶䢵㰕 㯒㽬㤏 㤏䢆㷞 㚶㯒䢆 㦖㺦㚶㰕䀗㽬㳼㚶㧗 䚾䢆㷞 㑔㽬㤏 䍐㦖䈲㰕 䢵㦖㑔㽱 㤏㰕䓩㧗 㽧㷞㚶 㺦䢆㚶 㦖㺦 㚶䢵㰕 㯒㽬㤏 䢵㰕 㯒㦖䓩䢵㰕䓩㧗 䚾䢆㷞 㠳䢆㺦’㚶 䓩㰕㰕 䢵㦖㑔 㽬䓩 㤏䢆㷞䀗 㑔㽬㺦㽱 㠳䢆 㤏䢆㷞㶣”

㵈㦖䓩 㯒䢆䀗㠳䓩 㯒㰕䀗㰕 㹀㷞㦖䍐㚶 䢆㺦 㳼㽬䀗㰕㵲㷞䍐 䢆㹀䓩㰕䀗㠦㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦 㽬㺦㠳 㦖㺦䓩㦖㻨䢵㚶㧗 㵈㰕 䢵㽬㠳 䓩㰕㰕㺦 㚶䢵㰕㦖䀗 㦖㺦㚶㰕䀗㽬㳼㚶㦖䢆㺦䓩㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㽬䓩䈲㰕㠳 㽬䀗䢆㷞㺦㠳 㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶 㚶䢵㰕㦖䀗 䢵㦖䓩㚶䢆䀗㤏㧗

㦖㩏㠦㺦㽬䍐㺦㰕㹀㻨㦖㠳㷞㰕䢵㦖㑔䐷䢆䍐㰕㰕䐷䢆㵲㺦㦖㰕㩏㳼㵲䢆䢵㰕㚶䢵㺦㻨㦖䓩㠳㺦㪪䐷䢓㰕㳼㰕㚶㰕䭓㦖㚶㰕䀗㯒㰕㳼㧗䍐䢆㠳㷞䈲㽬㽱䀗㰕㐩㚶䢆㧗㚶㺦’㦖㠳㠳㯒㺦䈲䢆䢵㰕㰕䀗㽬㰕㠳䍐㺦㤏㽬㯒㽱㽬䓩㚶㚶㺦㦖㰕䀗䓩㰕㚶㷞䢆㹀㽬㽬㺦㠳㰕䀗㷞䓩㚶䢆䀗㚶䐷㽬㷞䢆㰕㵈䓩䢆㯒㚶䢆㚶䢵㰕㑔㰕㠳㽬䢵㰕䢆㚶㚶䢵㰕䓩㽬㚶䢵㰕㺦䢆㰕㚶䓩㹀

㪪㺦㠳 㵲䀗䢆㑔 㯒䢵㽬㚶 䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㚶㰕䍐䍐㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖’䓩 㵲㰕㰕䍐㦖㺦㻨䓩 㵲䢆䀗 㩏㦖䍐㠦㽬㺦 㯒㰕䀗㰕 㺦䢆㚶 䀗䢆㑔㽬㺦㚶㦖㳼㧗

㵈㰕䀗 㦖㺦㰕䢓䐷㰕䀗㦖㰕㺦㳼㰕 㦖㺦 䀗㰕䍐㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦䓩䢵㦖䐷䓩㽱 㳼䢆㷞䐷䍐㰕㠳 㯒㦖㚶䢵 䢵㰕䀗 㳼䍐䢆䓩㰕 㵲䀗㦖㰕㺦㠳䓩䢵㦖䐷 㯒㦖㚶䢵 㩏㦖䍐㠦㽬㺦 䐷䀗㰕㠦㰕㺦㚶㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㵲䀗䢆㑔 䀗㰕㽬䍐㦖㠹㦖㺦㻨 㦖㚶㧗

㚶㰕䓩䍐㰕㰕㽱㠦㰕䚃䀗䓩䢵 㚶㽬䢵㯒㳼㰕㽬䀗㦖’㚶㠳㠳㺦 㺦㻨䢵㳼㽬㰕㳼㺦㦖䓩㰕 䓩䢵㰕䢵㰕㷞㽬㹀㚶䢆 㩏㦖㠦㺦䍐㽬䍐㽬㤏䀗㰕䍐 㚶㺦㻨㺦㦖㧗㽬㤏䢵䢆㠳㺦䍐㚶㯒㷞’ 㵲㰕䍐㚶 㦖㚶

䭓㰕㚶㦖’䓩 㰕㤏㰕䓩 䀗㦖䐷䐷䍐㰕㠳 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 䐷䀗㰕䓩䓩㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 䍐㦖䐷䓩 㚶䢆㻨㰕㚶䢵㰕䀗㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㯒䢆䀗㠳䓩 䓩㚶䀗㦖䈲㦖㺦㻨 㽬 㳼䢵䢆䀗㠳 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶㧗

㩏䢵㰕 㚶䢆䢆䈲 㽬 㠳㰕㰕䐷 㹀䀗㰕㽬㚶䢵 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 㚶䀗㦖㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䀗㰕㰕䍐 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶䓩㧗

㽬㠳㺦㺦䗑㽬㻨㑔㷞㦖䓩䓩㺦㽬㵲㦖㠳䍐㰕䍐㦖㯒㚶䢵䢵䓩㰕㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶㽬㦖㺦䓩䢵㻨㚶䐷䍐㰕䢆㰕䐷㰕䀗㹀㤏䍐㽬㠦㰕㹀㽬䢆䀗㚶㻨㽬䓩㺦㰕㯒㰕㰕䀗㑔㦖䢓㷞㺦䢆䀗㠳㽬䢆㦖㰕㳼㠦㽬䓩㠳㠳䐷㽱㺦㰕䀗㰕䢆䢆㻨㤏䢆㷞䢆䚾㧗㧗㧗㷞”䈲䍐㦖㰕㯒䢆䀗㠳䓩䀗㰕㵈㚶’㺦㠳䍐㷞䢆䢵䓩㚶㺦㰕㦖㺦䀗㷞㚶㳼㤏㽬㵲䢆㳼㠳㦖㽬㧗㰕㰕㵲㺦㽬䢵㚶㚶㽱”㽱㰕䢵㯒㦖䓩䐷䀗

㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕 㠳㦖㠳㺦’㚶 㵲㽬㠳㰕㽱 㦖㺦䓩㚶㰕㽬㠳㽱 䢵㰕 䍐㰕㽬㺦㰕㠳 㦖㺦 㳼䍐䢆䓩㰕䀗㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕 㺦㰕㠦㰕䀗 䍐㰕㽬㠦㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗䓩㽱 “㪪䍐䀗㦖㻨䢵㚶㽱 䍐㰕㚶’䓩 㠳䢆 㽬 䓩㦖㑔䐷䍐㰕 㚶㰕䓩㚶 㚶䢵㰕㺦㧗 䗑㵲 㤏䢆㷞 䐷㽬䓩䓩㽱 䗑 䐷䀗䢆㑔㦖䓩㰕 㚶䢆 㵲䢆䀗㻨㰕㚶 㯒䢵㽬㚶 䢵㽬䐷䐷㰕㺦㰕㠳㽱” 㵈㦖䓩 㚶䢆㺦㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㳼㽬䓩㷞㽬䍐㽱 㤏㰕㚶 㚶䢵㰕 㦖㺦㚶㰕㺦䓩㦖㚶㤏 䢆㵲 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕 㚶䢆䍐㠳 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䓩㰕䀗㦖䢆㷞䓩㧗

䭓㰕㚶㦖 㹀䍐㦖㺦䈲㰕㠳㽱 㚶㽬䈲㰕㺦 㽬㹀㽬㳼䈲 㹀㤏 䢵㦖䓩 䓩㷞㻨㻨㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㧗 㪪 䈲㺦䢆㚶 䢆㵲 㽬㺦䢓㦖㰕㚶㤏 㚶㯒㦖䓩㚶㰕㠳 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 䓩㚶䢆㑔㽬㳼䢵 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 㳼㽬㷞㚶㦖䢆㷞䓩䍐㤏 㚶㷞䀗㺦㰕㠳 㚶䢆 㵲㽬㳼㰕 䢵㦖㑔㽱 “䏡䢵㽬㚶 䈲㦖㺦㠳 䢆㵲㧗㧗㧗 㚶㰕䓩㚶㶣” 䓩䢵㰕 㽬䓩䈲㰕㠳㽱 䢵㰕䀗 㠦䢆㦖㳼㰕 䓩䢵㽬䈲㦖㺦㻨 㰕㠦㰕䀗 䓩䢆 䓩䍐㦖㻨䢵㚶䍐㤏㧗

㦖㺦㚶䓩㽬㰕㹀’䓩㰕㪪䀗䓩䢵㺦㦖㳼䀗䍐㧗䓩㰕䢆㻨㽬㰕㦖䍐㺦㺦㚶䢆㽬㚶㰕䢵䍐㦖㽱䈲㰕䢆㵲㠳㽬㺦㯒㺦䢵㰕㺦㦖䍐㚶㻨䈲㦖䓩䓩㽬㰕䢵䀗㚶㵲䢆䓩䈲㦖䓩㰕㤏㰕㧗䓩㽱䢆㩏䓩䢆㰕㺦䢆㰕㑔㦖㑔㰕䓩䍐㽱㻨㰕㺦㽬㹀㽱””䏡㽱䍐㰕䍐’䓩㚶䗑”䢵㚶㺦㰕㠳㺦㠳’㚶㦖㷞䢆㤏㽬㰕㽱䀗㳼㷞㤏䢆㯒㰕䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶㳼㰕䢆䀗㺦䀗㷞䢆䢵㚶㑔㷞㽬䐷㯒䀗㠳䓩㺦㦖㚶㠳㦖㯒㚶䢵㰕㳼㽬㠳䓩㦖㚶䢵㽬㚶㦖㵲㰕㧗㽬㚶㵲䓩䀗䐷䓩㽬䓩㤏䢆㷞䀗㦖㺦㻨䐷䓩䈲䀗㽬䍐㖆䢵㰕㤏’㠳䢆㷞㽬㻨㽬㦖㺦㽱䢵㦖䓩”㰕㚶㚶㧗䓩㽬㯒㰕㰕䀗䢵㰕㑔㷞㑔㰕䓩㚶㽬㺦㰕䀗㤏䢆㷞

䭓㰕㚶㦖 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㵲㰕㰕䍐 䢵㰕䀗 㳼䢵㰕㰕䈲䓩 㻨䀗䢆㯒 䢵䢆㚶 㽬㚶 䢵㦖䓩 䓩㷞㻨㻨㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㧗 㵈㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 㚶䢵㷞㠳㠳㰕㠳 䍐䢆㷞㠳䍐㤏 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㳼䢵㰕䓩㚶㽱 㽬㺦㠳 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㳼㰕䀗㚶㽬㦖㺦 䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 䢵㰕㽬䀗 㦖㚶㧗 㖆䢵㰕 㽬㷞㠳㽬㳼㦖㚶㤏 䢆㵲 䢵㦖䓩 䐷䀗䢆䐷䢆䓩㽬䍐㽱 㚶䢵㰕 㦖㑔䐷䍐㦖㳼㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦 䢆㵲 㦖㚶 㽬䍐䍐㽱 䍐㰕㵲㚶 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㰕㰕䍐㦖㺦㻨 㵲䍐㷞䓩㚶㰕䀗㰕㠳 㽬㺦㠳 㳼䢆㑔䐷䍐㰕㚶㰕䍐㤏 㳼㽬㷞㻨䢵㚶 䢆㵲㵲 㻨㷞㽬䀗㠳㧗

“䚾㡑䚾䢆㷞㧗㧗㧗䩀” 㩏䢵㰕 䓩㚶㽬㑔㑔㰕䀗㰕㠳㽱 㷞㺦䓩㷞䀗㰕 䢆㵲 䢵䢆㯒 㚶䢆 䀗㰕䓩䐷䢆㺦㠳㧗 㵈䢆㯒 㯒㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 䓩㷞䐷䐷䢆䓩㰕㠳 㚶䢆 㽬㳼㳼㰕䐷㚶 䓩㷞㳼䢵 㽬㺦 㦖㑔䐷䀗䢆䐷㰕䀗 㚶㰕䓩㚶㶣 㖆䢵㰕 㑔㰕䀗㰕 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶 䢆㵲 㦖㚶 䢵㽬㠳 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 䐷䢆㷞㺦㠳㦖㺦㻨㽱 䓩䢆 䢵䢆㯒 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 䓩䢵㰕 䐷䢆䓩䓩㦖㹀䍐㤏 䐷㽬䓩䓩 䢵㦖䓩 䓩䢆㡑㳼㽬䍐䍐㰕㠳 ‘㚶㰕䓩㚶’㶣

㚶䢵㦖䓩㺦㦖㷞㿪䓩㚶㖆䢵㰕㰕䢵䀗㰕䢵㰕㺦㯒䈲䢵䓩㦖㚶㰕㚶䓩㰕䓩㤏㰕㽬䀗㺦㷞㦖㵲㠳㚶䢆䍐㯒䢆䢵䢆䈲䍐䢆㯒㽬䓩㧗

㽧㷞㚶 㦖㵲 䓩䢵㰕 䀗㰕㵲㷞䓩㰕㠳㽱 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䓩㷞䀗㰕 䢵㰕 㯒䢆㷞䍐㠳 㠳㰕㵲㦖㺦㦖㚶㰕䍐㤏 䓩㽬㤏 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㽬㵲䀗㽬㦖㠳 䢆㵲 㵲㽬㦖䍐㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㰕 㚶㰕䓩㚶 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䢵㷞䓩 䐷䀗䢆㠦㦖㺦㻨 䢵㦖㑔 䀗㦖㻨䢵㚶㧗

㩏㷞㠳㠳㰕㺦䍐㤏㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖’䓩 㰕㤏㰕䓩 㻨䍐㦖㺦㚶㰕㠳 㽬䓩 㽬㺦 㦖㠳㰕㽬 䓩㚶䀗㷞㳼䈲 䢵㰕䀗㧗

㺦㦖㯒㻨䢆㹀䀗㰕䢵䢵㦖㺦㠳㠳㰕㷞䐷㚶䓩䢵㰕㳼㵲㽬㰕䍐㽬㰕䈲㹀㚶㺦㑔㺦䢆㦖㽱㰕㤏䍐䓩㚶䓩㷞䢵㳼㚶㷞䍐䀗㦖㑔䢆㚶㽱㚶䢵㽬㺦㦖㚶䢵㰕㠦䢆㰕䀗㳼䍐㰕㰕㠳㠳㽱㽬䀗䢆䀗㦖㰕䓩㷞䓩㰕㧗”㧗䞰㺦㷞㧗㰕㺦䢆䀗䓩䍐㵲㠳䓩㳼䐷㚶㦖㰕㰕㷞㽬㵲䀗㦖㽬㠳䓩㰕㽱”㚶㚶㵲㽬㳼㰕㽱㠳㽬㦖䍐㯒㠳䍐䢆㷞䢵㰕䀗㰕䀗䢵䓩㰕㦖㚶㺦㑔䢆䢆䓩㰕㽬㑔㰕㩏䢵㰕䀗㧗㑔䢆㦖㑔㺦㽬䍐㤏㚶㦖䢵㠳㰕㹀㺦㷞㤏䓩㺦㠳㠳㰕䍐㰕䢵㚶㽬㚶㳼㽬㺦㠦㤏㻨䍐䍐䢵䓩㽱㦖㚶䈲㑔䓩㽬㽬㧗㧗䗑䗑”㧗㚶䢵㰕㠳䢆㯒㺦䗑”㚶㤏㵲㦖㚶㯒䓩䍐㠳㠳㰕㰕㽱䀗㽬㺦䢵㚶䢆䗑㽱㠳㰕㹀㚶䢆㑔㽬㺦㽬㧗㷞㦖䓩䢆㚶㦖㚶㦖㚶㑔㽱㰕䢵㚶㰕䍐㺦㷞㻨䐷䍐㦖㵲䢆㚶㰕䢵㠳䢵㽬㰕䢆㵲㚶㪪㚶䀗㽬䐷㽬㺦䢆㹀㽬䈲㳼㳼㽬㺦㺦䢆㚶䐷㰕㳼㽬䓩㰕㦖㰕䀗䓩䐷䢓䓩䢆㺦㰕㚶㚶㚶㑔㰕䐷㽬㹀㰕㚶㰕䢵㰕㠹㽬㻨㹀㰕㑔㻨㦖㳼㺦䢆㚶㽬䈲㰕㺦㦖䢵䓩㰕㺦㽬䢵㦖䓩䢵㦖㚶䏡䢵㰕䓩䀗䓩’㪪

䭓㰕㚶㦖’䓩 䓩㰕䀗㦖䢆㷞䓩 㰕䢓䐷䀗㰕䓩䓩㦖䢆㺦 㚶䀗㽬㺦䓩㵲䢆䀗㑔㰕㠳 㦖㺦㚶䢆 㽬 㯒㦖㺦㳼㰕 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㰕㺦㚶 㷞㺦㠳㰕䀗 㚶䢵㰕 䓩䢵㰕㰕㚶㧗 㥢㠦㰕㺦 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 䓩㽬㦖㠳 㦖㚶㽱 䓩䢵㰕 䈲㺦㰕㯒 㦖㚶 㯒㽬䓩 㽬 㵲䍐㦖㑔䓩㤏 㰕䢓㳼㷞䓩㰕㧗

㩏䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㽬㯒㽬䀗㰕 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕 㷞㺦䓩䐷䢆䈲㰕㺦 㑔㽬㚶㚶㰕䀗䓩 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕 㺦䢆㹀㦖䍐㦖㚶㤏㽱 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕 㳼䍐㽬㺦㠳㰕䓩㚶㦖㺦㰕 㽬㵲㵲㽬㦖䀗䓩 㽬㺦㠳 䓩㰕㳼䀗㰕㚶 㚶䀗㤏䓩㚶䓩 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䢆㵲㚶㰕㺦 䢆㳼㳼㷞䀗䀗㰕㠳 㽬㯒㽬㤏 㵲䀗䢆㑔 䐷䀗㤏㦖㺦㻨 㰕㤏㰕䓩㧗

㦖㠳㚶㽱㺦㵲㰕䀗㰕㵲㧗㰕㷞䞰㦖㷞㺦㚶㷞㽧䢵㦖㯒㚶㯒㽬䓩㚶䢵㰕䓩㰕䢵㪪䀗䢵㰕䀗㰕㷞㺦㰕䞰㽬㠳㺦㽬䀗㦖㰕䐷䓩䍐㚶䢵䢆㦖㺦㯒㽬䓩

䭓㰕㚶㦖 䈲㺦㰕㯒 㚶䢵㰕 䞰㷞㰕㰕㺦 㳼㽬䀗㰕㠳 㵲䢆䀗 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 㠳㰕㰕䐷䍐㤏㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䢵㰕 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶 䢆㵲 䢵㰕䀗 䀗㰕㽬㳼㚶㦖䢆㺦 㚶䢆 㚶䢵㰕 㷞㺦㰕䢓䐷㰕㳼㚶㰕㠳 䈲㦖䓩䓩 㵲㦖䍐䍐㰕㠳 䭓㰕㚶㦖 㯒㦖㚶䢵 㰕㠦㰕㺦 㑔䢆䀗㰕 㻨㷞㦖䍐㚶㧗

䚾㰕㚶 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 䀗㰕䓩䐷䢆㺦䓩㰕 㯒㽬䓩㺦’㚶 㯒䢵㽬㚶 䓩䢵㰕 㰕䢓䐷㰕㳼㚶㰕㠳㧗

䝛㽬㚶㰕䀗䢵䢵㰕䀗㵲㷞㚶㽱䀗㯒㽬䢵㚶㰕㠳㳼㰕䢵䓩㦖㵈㷞䢆䓩䐷㚶㦖㠳䢵䀗㽬䀗㤏䐷㰕䍐䢵㠳㽬㚶䢵㚶㰕䀗䢆㵲㰕㹀㰕䐷㚶䍐䓩㻨㰕㚶䓩䐷䓩㤏㑔㦖䍐㰕䓩㷞㠳㑔㽬㽬㺦㠳䢆㽱㠳㳼”䍐㰕㯒䀗㰕䢆㺦䓩㯒㽬㰕㧗㺦䢵㷞㻨䢆䓩䍐㑔㦖㰕㚶䢆㽬㺦㚶䢵㽬㺦㤏䀗䢆㷞䲴㰕㚶㰕䢵䀗䢵㦖䓩䓩㦖㺦䢵㦖㵲㯒㚶㦖䢵䀗䢆”㷞䚾䢆䐷㷞㚶㷞㹀䍐䢵㽱㚶㻨㦖㳼㠦䢆㰕㦖㠳䢆䀗䓩㯒㺦㽬䓩㦖䢵㺦䓩㦖㚶㰕㺦㤏㦖㚶㻨㦖䀗㰕䢆㺦㧗㵲㽬㽱㳼㰕䐷䀗䓩䢆㚶㰕㚶

䭓㰕㚶㦖 䍐㰕㚶 䢆㷞㚶 㽬 㹀䀗㰕㽬㚶䢵 䓩䢵㰕 㠳㦖㠳㺦’㚶 䀗㰕㽬䍐㦖㠹㰕 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䢵䢆䍐㠳㦖㺦㻨㧗 䝛㰕䍐㦖㰕㠦㰕㠳 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䢵㰕 䢵㽬㠳 䓩㰕㰕㑔㦖㺦㻨䍐㤏 㠳䀗䢆䐷䐷㰕㠳 㚶䢵㰕 㦖㠳㰕㽬 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕 㚶㰕䓩㚶㽱 䓩䢵㰕 䓩䍐䢆㯒䍐㤏 䐷㰕㰕䈲㰕㠳 䢆㷞㚶 㵲䀗䢆㑔 㷞㺦㠳㰕䀗 㚶䢵㰕 㳼䢆㠦㰕䀗䓩 㽬㺦㠳 䓩㽬㯒 䢵㦖㑔 㯒㽬䍐䈲㦖㺦㻨 㽬㯒㽬㤏㧗

㐩㰕䓩䐷㦖㚶㰕 㚶䢵㰕 䀗㰕䍐㦖㰕㵲㽱 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 㯒㽬䓩 䓩㚶㦖䍐䍐 䀗㽬㳼㦖㺦㻨㽱 㚶䢵㰕 䍐㦖㺦㻨㰕䀗㦖㺦㻨 㰕㵲㵲㰕㳼㚶䓩 䢆㵲 㚶䢵㰕㦖䀗 㳼䢆㺦㠦㰕䀗䓩㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦㽱 㚶䢵㰕 䈲㦖䓩䓩㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䢵㰕 㷞㺦㳼㰕䀗㚶㽬㦖㺦㚶㤏 䢆㵲 㯒䢵㽬㚶 㯒㽬䓩 㚶䢆 㳼䢆㑔㰕 䍐㰕㽬㠦㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 䀗㰕䓩㚶䍐㰕䓩䓩㧗

䢵㰕䀗㰕㽬䍐㠳㑔㰕䢵㚶䢆䀗㺦㧗㰕㺦䓩䢆㦖㚶㯒㦖㚶䢵䓩㚶䢵㦖䢵㰕㰕䀗㳼䍐㠳䢆㷞㚶㦖㚶䢆㽬䓩䗑䢆䍐㰕䢵䓩䓩䢆㵲㽬䓩㚶䐷䢆㰕䢵㺦㠳䓩䢆㰕’㚶䍐䢆㤏㺦㠳㺦㽬䐷㹀㰕䓩䍐䢆㦖䓩䓩㽬䢵㰕㽬㠦䓩㽬㽬㯒䈲㯒㽬䀗㠳㑔㽬䈲㰕㚶䢵㽬㚶㰕䢵㩏

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㖆䢵㰕 㠳㽬㤏䓩 㠳䀗㽬㻨㻨㰕㠳 䢆㺦㽱 㯒㦖㚶䢵 㺦䢆 䓩㦖㻨㺦 䢆㵲 䗑䓩䢆䍐㽬 㽬㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㑔䢆㚶䢵㰕䀗㧗

㽬㯒䓩䢵㽬㚶㚶䓩㑔㰕㠳㰕㰕㽱㽬㺦㠳䢵㦖㚶䀗㰕㽬䭓㰕㚶㦖㳼䢆㠳䍐㷞㺦䀗㺦㷞㦖㺦㻨㰕㤏㚶䢵㦖㺦䢆㚶㰕㯒㰕䀗䀗㿪㤏㰕䢆㷞㺦䢆㺦㰕㽬㺦䢆㚶㰕䢵䀗㧗㽬㵲㚶㰕䀗㻨㺦㳼䢵㰕㽬㦖䍐㺦㻨䍐㺦㰕㽱䢆㦖㚶䓩㰕㷞㻨䓩㳼䍐㰕㽬㚶䓩㹀䢆

㪪䍐䍐 㚶䢵㰕 㯒䢵㦖䍐㰕㽱 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䍐㰕㵲㚶 㽬䍐䢆㺦㰕 㯒㦖㚶䢵 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗㽱 㚶䢵㰕 㚶㰕㺦䓩㦖䢆㺦 㹀㰕㚶㯒㰕㰕㺦 㚶䢵㰕㑔 䢵㽬㺦㻨㦖㺦㻨 㦖㺦 㚶䢵㰕 㽬㦖䀗 䍐㦖䈲㰕 㽬 䐷㽬䍐䐷㽬㹀䍐㰕 㵲䢆㻨㧗

㵈㦖䓩 䐷䀗㰕䓩㰕㺦㳼㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㹀䢆㚶䢵 㽬 㚶䢆䀗㑔㰕㺦㚶 㽬㺦㠳 㽬 㳼䢆㑔㵲䢆䀗㚶㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䢆 䢵㰕䀗 㠳㦖䓩㑔㽬㤏㽱 䓩䢵㰕 㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 㠳䀗㽬㯒㺦 㚶䢆 䢵㦖㑔 㦖㺦 㽬 㯒㽬㤏 䓩䢵㰕 㺦㰕㠦㰕䀗 㰕䢓䐷㰕㳼㚶㰕㠳㧗

䢆㵲 䢵㚶㺦㦖㯒㦖 䓩㽬㵲㰕㚶㤏 㐩㚶䓩㦖䐷㰕㰕㪪 㵲䢆㷞㚶㻨䢵 㦖㺦䍐㻨㰕㰕㦖㺦㵲 㰕䢵㚶 㤏㑔㽬䐷㳼䢆㧗㺦 㵲䀗䍐㰕㽱䢵㰕䓩 㺦㦖㽬㚶䀗㰕㳼 㠳㺦㽬 㚶䢵㰕䓩䢆䍐㽬㳼㰕 䢵㦖䓩㰕䀗䢵㰕㚶㽬 㰕㺦㠳䢓䀗䐷㰕㰕㰕㳼㦖㽬㚶䍐㚶䓩㹀㰕 㹀䢆㰕㧗㵲䀗㰕䢵䓩㰕 㠳䢵㽬㚶䓩㰕㦖㺦㺦䢆 㯒㽬䓩 㰕䓩㚶㺦㦖䍐 㰕䢵䓩㠦㰕䀗㺦㰕

㐩㷞䀗㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㦖䓩 㚶㦖㑔㰕㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖 㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 㻨䀗䢆㯒㦖㺦㻨 㑔䢆䀗㰕 䓩㦖䍐㰕㺦㚶㽱 䢆㺦䍐㤏 㻨㦖㠦㦖㺦㻨 㹀䀗㦖㰕㵲 䀗㰕䐷䍐㦖㰕䓩 㚶䢆 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 㦖㺦䞰㷞㦖䀗㦖㰕䓩㧗 㩏䢵㰕 㚶䀗㦖㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䈲㰕㰕䐷 㽬 䐷䢆䈲㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㚶䢆 䢵㦖䓩 㚶㰕㽬䓩㰕䓩㽱 㯒䢵㦖㳼䢵 䢆㺦䍐㤏 䓩㰕㰕㑔㰕㠳 㚶䢆 㰕㑔㹀䢆䍐㠳㰕㺦 䢵㦖㑔 㵲㷞䀗㚶䢵㰕䀗㧗

㵈㦖䓩 㚶㰕㽬䓩㰕䓩 㹀㰕㳼㽬㑔㰕 㑔䢆䀗㰕 㵲䀗㰕䞰㷞㰕㺦㚶㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㠳㰕㠦㦖䍐㦖䓩䢵 䍐㽬㷞㻨䢵㚶㰕䀗 㰕㳼䢵䢆㦖㺦㻨 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㰕㽬䀗䓩㽱 㯒㽬䀗㑔㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 㠳㰕䓩䐷㦖㚶㰕 䢵㰕䀗 㽬㚶㚶㰕㑔䐷㚶 㚶䢆 䀗㰕㑔㽬㦖㺦 䓩㚶䢆㦖㳼㧗

㳼䍐㰕㽬㑔䓩㰕㹀㺦㠳㺦㽬㑔䓩㹀㦖䍐㺦㦖䢆㵲 㺦䢆㽬㑔㧗䍐㤏䀗㳼㽬㻨㰕㦖㺦䀗䓩㦖䢵㺦䀗㽬䢆㰕㑔㰕㠳㦖㚶䀗㰕䢵 䓩䢆㑔㰕䢵㰕䀗㺦䍐㠳㦖㰕㤏㚶㻨㦖㽱䍐䢵㰕䀗㚶䢆㰕㺦㵲㰕㠳䓩 㰕䢵䀗 㤏䀗㰕㠦䢆㳼㽱㰕䀗 㺦䐷㦖䢵㻨㰕䍐 㳼㰕㽬䀗㰕㵲䀗㰕’㯒䓩㽬㺦㚶 㰕䀗㽬㳼㽬㠳㦖㻨㺦㦖䢵㰕䀗㽧㷞㚶 㵈㰕 䢵㰕䀗㧗䢆㵲 㽬䢵㚶㚶㚶䓩㷞㿪 䈲䢆䢆㚶 㑔䢆㠦㰕

㖆䢵㰕 㑔㽬㺦 䓩䢵㰕 㦖㺦㦖㚶㦖㽬䍐䍐㤏 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶 㯒㽬䓩 㳼䀗㷞㠳㰕 㽬㺦㠳 䀗㷞㠳㰕 䀗㰕㠦㰕㽬䍐㰕㠳 㽬 㯒䢵䢆䍐㰕 ‘㺦䢆㚶䢵㰕䀗 䓩㦖㠳㰕 䓩䢵㰕 㺦㰕㠦㰕䀗 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㰕㠦㰕㺦 㦖㑔㽬㻨㦖㺦㰕 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㠳䀗㰕㽬㑔䓩㧗

㵈㦖䓩 㽬㚶㚶㰕㺦㚶㦖㠦㰕㺦㰕䓩䓩 㯒㽬䓩 㷞㺦㰕䢓䐷㰕㳼㚶㰕㠳㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㳼䢆㺦㳼㰕䀗㺦 㵲䢆䀗 䢵㰕䀗 㯒㰕䍐䍐㡑㹀㰕㦖㺦㻨 㰕㠦㦖㠳㰕㺦㚶 㦖㺦 䢵㦖䓩 㰕㠦㰕䀗㤏 㑔䢆㠦㰕㧗 㖆䢵㰕 㯒㽬㤏 䢵㰕 䍐䢆䢆䈲㰕㠳 㽬㚶 䢵㰕䀗 㯒㽬䓩 㷞㺦䍐㦖䈲㰕 㽬㺦㤏㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨 䓩䢵㰕 䢵㽬㠳 䓩㰕㰕㺦 㹀㰕㵲䢆䀗㰕㧗 㖆䢵㰕 㦖㺦㚶㰕㺦䓩㦖㚶㤏 䢆㵲 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䢵㽬䀗㠳 㚶䢆 㦖㻨㺦䢆䀗㰕㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㦖㚶 䍐㰕㵲㚶 㽬㺦 㦖㑔䐷䀗㦖㺦㚶 䢆㺦 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 㚶䢵㽬㚶 㯒㽬䓩 䢵㽬䀗㠳 㚶䢆 䓩䢵㽬䈲㰕 䢆㵲㵲㧗

㪪㚶㦖㦖㺦䍐䍐㦖㤏㽬㚶㰕㦖䭓䓩䍐䍐㤏㯒䢆㯒㰕㰕䈲䢆䓩䢆㦖㑔㳼㠳㚶䀗㵲㠳䢵㽬㵲㰕㠳㽬㠳㧗㠳㺦㽬㚶㚶䢵㽬㻨㽬㰕㷞䍐㠳䐷䓩䓩㠳㽱㰕䐷㽬㚶㰕䢵

㽧㰕㦖㺦㻨 㽬䍐䢆㺦㰕 㯒㦖㚶䢵 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 㺦䢆 䍐䢆㺦㻨㰕䀗 㵲㰕䍐㚶 㽬㯒䈲㯒㽬䀗㠳 䢆䀗 㚶㰕㺦䓩㰕㽱 㹀㷞㚶 㦖㺦䓩㚶㰕㽬㠳 䓩㚶䀗㽬㺦㻨㰕䍐㤏 㳼䢆㑔㵲䢆䀗㚶㦖㺦㻨㧗

䭓㰕㚶㦖 㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 㳼䢆㷞㺦㚶㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㰕 㠳㽬㤏䓩 䍐㰕㵲㚶 㷞㺦㚶㦖䍐 㚶䢵㰕㤏 䢵㽬㠳 㚶䢆 䍐㰕㽬㠦㰕㽱 㽬 䀗㰕㽬䍐㦖㠹㽬㚶㦖䢆㺦 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䓩䢵䢆㳼䈲㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗㧗 㩏䢵㰕 䢵㽬㠳 䓩㚶㽬䀗㚶㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䢵㦖㠳㰕 䢵㰕䀗 䀗㰕㳼䢆㠦㰕䀗㤏 䐷䀗䢆㻨䀗㰕䓩䓩㽱 㵲㰕㦖㻨㺦㦖㺦㻨 㯒㰕㽬䈲㺦㰕䓩䓩 㚶䢆 䐷䀗䢆䍐䢆㺦㻨 㯒䢵㽬㚶㰕㠦㰕䀗 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㰕䢓䐷㰕䀗㦖㰕㺦㳼㦖㺦㻨 㵲䢆䀗 㚶䢵㰕 㵲㦖䀗䓩㚶 㚶㦖㑔㰕㧗

㰕㚶㰕’㯒䀗㺦㩏䢵㰕䐷䓩㦖㰕㚶㠳㰕㯒㽬䓩㵲㰕㰕㺦䍐㻨㦖㚶䢵䓩㦖㠳㑔䢵䢆㰕㚶䓩䐷䢓䍐㰕䀗䢆㰕㚶䢆䐷㑔㰕㚶㰕㚶㠳㦖㳼䢆㷞㷞䀗䓩㻨㯒䈲㺦䢆㺦㦖㠳㺦㽬㻨㦖䀗㧗䢵㚶㚶㽬䢵㚶䀗䢵㰕

㩏䢵㰕 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 㳼䢆㷞㺦㚶䍐㰕䓩䓩 㚶㦖㑔㰕䓩㽱 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䀗㦖㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䐷㷞㚶 㽬㺦 㰕㺦㠳 㚶䢆 㚶䢵㦖䓩 㳼䢵㽬䀗㽬㠳㰕㧗 㽧㷞㚶 㰕㽬㳼䢵 㚶㦖㑔㰕㽱 䓩䢵㰕 㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 㷞㺦㽬㹀䍐㰕 㚶䢆 㽬㺦㠳 㵲㰕䍐㚶 䍐㦖䈲㰕 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 㯒㽬䓩 䀗㰕㹀㰕䍐䍐㦖㺦㻨 㽬㻨㽬㦖㺦䓩㚶 䢵㰕䀗㧗 㥢㽬㳼䢵 㚶㦖㑔㰕 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 㯒㽬䓩 㺦㰕㽬䀗㽱 䢵㰕䀗 䀗㰕䓩䢆䍐㠦㰕 㯒䢆㷞䍐㠳 㳼䀗㷞㑔㹀䍐㰕㽱 䍐㰕㽬㠦㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 㤏㰕㽬䀗㺦㦖㺦㻨 㵲䢆䀗 䓩䢆㑔㰕㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㽬㚶 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㰕㰕䍐㦖㺦㻨䓩㧗

㖆䢵㰕 㑔䢆䀗㰕 㚶㦖㑔㰕 䐷㽬䓩䓩㰕㠳㽱 㚶䢵㰕 㑔䢆䀗㰕 䓩䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㷞㺦㽬㹀䍐㰕 㚶䢆 䓩㚶䢆䐷 㚶䢵㦖㺦䈲㦖㺦㻨 㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶 㚶䢵㰕 䈲㦖䓩䓩 㽬㺦㠳 㚶䢵㰕 㑔䢆㑔㰕㺦㚶䓩 㚶䢵㰕㤏 䓩䢵㽬䀗㰕㠳 㽬䍐䢆㺦㰕 㠳㷞䀗㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢵㰕㦖䀗 㿪䢆㷞䀗㺦㰕㤏 㦖㺦 㚶䢵㦖䓩 㠳㷞㺦㻨㰕䢆㺦㧗

㰕㽱䢆㠹㺦㰕䢵㚶㠳㽬㤏 㚶䢵㰕䢵㼗䎴㚶 䢿㺦 䐷䀗㚶㰕㽬㦖㠦㦖㺦 䓩㽬㰕㵲

㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗㽱 㽬䓩 㷞䓩㷞㽬䍐㽱 㽬㵲㚶㰕䀗 䭓㰕㚶㦖 䢵㽬㠳 㵲㦖㺦㦖䓩䢵㰕㠳 㰕㽬㚶㦖㺦㻨㽱 㯒㽬䍐䈲㰕㠳 㚶䢆㯒㽬䀗㠳䓩 㚶䢵㰕 㚶㽬㹀䍐㰕 㚶䢆 䐷䍐㽬㳼㰕 㚶䢵㰕 㰕㑔䐷㚶㤏 㹀䢆㯒䍐㧗

䭓㰕㚶㦖 㯒㽬䓩 㦖㺦 㹀㰕㠳㽱 䢵㰕䀗 㑔㦖㺦㠳 䓩㚶㦖䍐䍐 㠳㦖䓩㚶䀗㽬㳼㚶㰕㠳㽱 㯒䢵㰕㺦 䓩䢵㰕 䢵㰕㽬䀗㠳 㚶䢵㰕 㳼䍐㽬㚶㚶㰕䀗 䢆㵲 㳼䀗䢆㳼䈲㰕䀗㤏 㽬㺦㠳 㽬 䓩㷞㠳㠳㰕㺦 㳼䀗㤏 䢆㵲 䐷㽬㦖㺦㧗

㠳㺦㽬䢵䢆㷞㚶䓩㯒’䈲㰕㽬㰕㺦’䓩㰕䢵䓩㚶䢆䓩㦖䢵㠳䓩㦖㧗㰕䀗㪪䓩䢵㰕䓩㦖䢵䓩㦖㧗㠳㰕㻨䀗㚶㺦㰕㚶䢆㵲㽱䢆㰕㹀㠳㽱䢵㽬㠳㷞䢆㠦䐷㦖䀗㰕䓩㻨㺦㽬䀗䐷䓩㰕㠳䍐㪪㽬㽱䀗㑔㚶㺦㷞㻨㳼䢵㦖䍐㳼㰕䢵㚶㷞㠳㰕䢵䀗䓩䢵㰕䀗㽱䐷䍐䍐䢆㽬㠳䓩㳼㰕䓩䢵㦖㵲䢆㺦㠳㽬

“䚾䢆㷞䀗 㵈㦖㻨䢵㺦㰕䓩䓩䩀” 㩏䢵㰕 㳼㽬䍐䍐㰕㠳 䢆㷞㚶 㦖㺦 㯒䢆䀗䀗㤏㽱 㹀㰕㺦㠳㦖㺦㻨 㠳䢆㯒㺦 㚶䢆 䢵㰕䍐䐷 䢵㦖㑔㧗 㽧㷞㚶 㽬䓩 䓩䢵㰕 䀗㰕㽬㳼䢵㰕㠳 䢆㷞㚶 㚶䢆 䢵㦖㑔㽱 䢵㦖䓩 䢵㽬㺦㠳 䓩䢵䢆㚶 䢆㷞㚶 㽬㺦㠳 㻨䀗㽬㹀㹀㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗 㯒䀗㦖䓩㚶㽱 䐷㷞䍐䍐㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 㠳䢆㯒㺦 㯒㦖㚶䢵 䢵㦖㑔㧗

䏡㦖㚶䢵 㽬 䓩㷞䀗䐷䀗㦖䓩㰕㠳 㻨㽬䓩䐷㽱 䓩䢵㰕 㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳 䢵㰕䀗䓩㰕䍐㵲 䢆㺦 㚶䢵㰕 㵲䍐䢆䢆䀗㽱 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗 䓩䐷䀗㽬㯒䍐㰕㠳 䢆㠦㰕䀗 䢵㰕䀗㧗 㩏䢵㰕 㯒㽬䓩 㽬㹀䢆㷞㚶 㚶䢆 䞰㷞㰕䓩㚶㦖䢆㺦 䢵㦖䓩 㽬㳼㚶㦖䢆㺦䓩 㯒䢵㰕㺦 䓩䢵㰕 䓩㽬㯒 㚶䢵㰕 䈲㺦䢆㯒㦖㺦㻨 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕 䢆㺦 䢵㦖䓩 㵲㽬㳼㰕㧗

䢵㚶㦖㯒 㽬䀗㰕㰕㹀 㽬㯒䓩 䢵㰕㰕䀗 䢵’䓩㪪䓩䀗㰕 㦖䢆㠦㳼㰕”㶣㰕㯒 㰕䢵㚶㳼㠳㻨㰕㠦㰕㦖㺦㦖㰕䀗㽱㯒㰕㽬䓩㚶㺦㦖㠳㰕㺦㰕㻨䀗䐷 䈲㯒㺦䢆 䈲䢆䢆㰕䍐㠳㰕㳼㽱㰕㰕䢆㠳䀗㠦䀗 䀗㰕䢵 㯒㦖㚶䢵㰕䓩㰕㽱㤏 㦖㺦㺦㦖䍐䈲㯒㚶㻨 㺦㪪㠳”㳼㰕䍐㽬㠳 䢆㤏㷞㽬㚶㐩䢆 㚶䓩䍐䍐㦖䀗䢆㵲䢵㰕䢆䍐䀗㽬㤏 䐷㦖㰕䓩㺦㷞㚶㺦㑔䢵䢆䢵㑔㷞䀗㚶䢆 䢆㷞㤏 㧗㷞㰕㺦䍐㯒䍐㚶䢵㰕㚶㳼䢆㺦䓩㶣”䢆䀗 䍐㷞㤏㶷”䍐

“䗑…䗑…㯒㽬䓩㺦’㚶…” 䭓㰕㚶㦖 㹀䍐㷞䓩䢵㰕㠳㽱 㽬㠦䢆㦖㠳㦖㺦㻨 䢵㦖䓩 㻨㽬㠹㰕㽱 㺦䢆㚶 䈲㺦䢆㯒㦖㺦㻨 㯒䢵㽬㚶 㚶䢆 䓩㽬㤏㧗 㩏䢵㰕 㠳㦖㠳㺦’㚶 㯒㽬㺦㚶 㚶䢆 㽬㠳㑔㦖㚶 㽬㺦㤏㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨㽱 㹀㷞㚶 㚶䢵㰕 㰕㑔㹀㽬䀗䀗㽬䓩䓩㑔㰕㺦㚶 䢆㵲 䢵㰕䀗 㽬㳼㚶㦖䢆㺦䓩 㑔㽬㠳㰕 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶 䀗㽬㳼㰕㽱 㽬㺦㠳 䓩䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㵲㰕㰕䍐 㚶䢵㰕 䢵㰕㽬㚶 㳼䀗㰕㰕䐷㦖㺦㻨 㷞䐷 䢵㰕䀗 㺦㰕㳼䈲 㽬㺦㠳 䢆㺦㚶䢆 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕㧗

㽧㷞㚶 㹀㰕㵲䢆䀗㰕 䓩䢵㰕 㳼䢆㷞䍐㠳 㻨㽬㚶䢵㰕䀗 䢵㰕䀗 㚶䢵䢆㷞㻨䢵㚶䓩㽱 㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗’䓩 㵲㦖㺦㻨㰕䀗䓩 㯒㰕䀗㰕 㻨㰕㺦㚶䍐㤏 㚶㦖䍐㚶㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕䀗 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㷞䐷 㚶䢆㯒㽬䀗㠳 䢵㦖㑔㧗 㵈㰕 㯒㽬䓩 䓩㑔㦖䍐㦖㺦㻨㽱 㽬 㯒㽬䀗㑔㽱 㚶㰕㽬䓩㦖㺦㻨 䓩㑔㦖䍐㰕 㚶䢵㽬㚶 㠳㦖㠳 㺦䢆㚶䢵㦖㺦㻨 㚶䢆 㳼㽬䍐㑔 䢵㰕䀗 䐷䢆㷞㺦㠳㦖㺦㻨 䢵㰕㽬䀗㚶㧗

䈲㺦”㯒㽱䢆㽬㚶䢵㯒䍐䢆㠳㚶㽱䓩䢆㵲㚶䓩㽬㦖㠳㽱䚾㷞”䢆䢵㰕㑔㰕䓩䍐䐷㦖㑔㤏䢵䓩㦖㷞䢆㤏䢆”㤏㷞䍐㷞䢆㠳㳼㠳㰕㰕㺦㰕㽬㠦䢵䚃䢆㚶㺦㧗㽬㠳㰕㯒䢆㳼㦖㰕㠦䢵䓩㰕䀗㽱㰕㵈㤏䢆㷞䐷㽬㷞䓩㰕㠳㽱㻨䢆㚶䢵䓩㦖㠳”㪪㺦䢵䢵㚶㷞䀗䢆㻨䢆㚶㽬㻨㰕㠹䢆㠳㺦㦖䢵䍐㻨䓩㦖䢵㯒䢆㺦䈲䗑䍐䍐㽬㯒䢵㚶㽬”㰕䢆䀗䍐㹀㽱㷞㚶㯒㽬㺦㚶㧗”

䏡㦖㚶䢵 㚶䢵㽬㚶㽱 䢵㰕 㹀㰕㻨㽬㺦 㚶䢆 䍐㰕㽬㺦 㦖㺦㽱 䢵㦖䓩 㵲㽬㳼㰕 㦖㺦㳼䢵㦖㺦㻨 㳼䍐䢆䓩㰕䀗 㚶䢆 䢵㰕䀗䓩㧗

“䚃㡑䚃䢆㧗㧗㧗㧗䗑㧗㧗㧗” 䭓㰕㚶㦖’䓩 㹀䀗㰕㽬㚶䢵 䢵㦖㚶㳼䢵㰕㠳 㦖㺦 䢵㰕䀗 㚶䢵䀗䢆㽬㚶㽱 䢵㰕䀗 䢵㽬㺦㠳䓩 㷞㺦㳼䢆㺦䓩㳼㦖䢆㷞䓩䍐㤏 㳼䍐㷞㚶㳼䢵㦖㺦㻨 㽬㚶 䢵㦖䓩 䓩䢵㦖䀗㚶㧗 㪪 䐷㽬䀗㚶 䢆㵲 䢵㰕䀗 㯒㽬㺦㚶㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䐷㷞䓩䢵 䢵㦖㑔 㽬㯒㽬㤏㽱 㹀㷞㚶 䢵㰕䀗 䓩㚶䀗㰕㺦㻨㚶䢵 䓩㰕㰕㑔㰕㠳 㚶䢆 䢵㽬㠦㰕 㽬㹀㽬㺦㠳䢆㺦㰕㠳 䢵㰕䀗㧗

䢵㰕䀗䢵㰕䀗㵲䢆㷞㺦㠳䀗㽬㚶㰕䢵䓩㪪 䀗䍐㰕㰕㵲䓩䢵 䓩㦖䢵 㠳䍐䍐㤏㦖㯒㽱䀗㺦䀗㰕㰕㽬 㰕䓩䢵㺦㦖 㺦㦖 䓩㦖䢵 㽬䐷㽱䓩㦖䍐 㷞㚶䢃䓩 䍐㰕㰕㵲㚶䢵㰕 䢵䓩㰕 㵲㰕㽬㳼㰕㤏㰕䓩㽱䓩䢆䍐㳼㻨㦖㺦㻨䀗㽬㺦 䢵䀗㰕 㳼䢆㠳㷞䍐䢵㽬㚶䀗㹀㰕 㦖㷞䢵㠳㚶㻨㠳㺦㳼㦖㚶㚶㦖㺦㧗㦖㽬䢆㺦䐷㽬㠳䀗㰕㯒 䢆㚶㷞㰕㳼㦖䢆㠦 㺦䢆㽬䓩 䀗䢆䢆㑔㧗

“㪪䓩䢵㰕䀗㽱 䭓㰕㚶㦖㽱 㽬䀗㰕 㤏䢆㷞 㚶㯒䢆 㦖㺦 㚶䢵㰕䀗㰕㶣”

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS
Resurgent

She should feel relieved or not? :#

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Chapter 274: An Alliance
Ceti jumped at the sound of Isola’s voice echoing through the chamber.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, quickly wriggling out from under Asher’s grasp, not knowing what came over her while he simply laid there on the floor, watching her with a knowing grin as she scrambled to her feet.

“For devils’ sake-” she mumbled, fumbling as she hastily tied up her disheveled hair, then grabbed a set of clothes from a nearby chair, tossing them at Asher, “Your Highness, please get dressed!” She managed to gasp out, her cheeks a deep shade of red.

A low chuckle escaped from Asher as he caught the clothes in mid-air, “No need for you to play the maid, Ceti. Your mother’s here now,” he said, his tone filled with amusement.

Ceti’s blush deepened at his words with an aggrieved look, “I’m just trying to make you look… decent,” she stressed firmly, hurriedly turning her back on him and heading towards the entrance.

If somebody else saw her being alone with his half naked figure, what would they think?

With all this, her heart was thudding with a mix of embarrassment, anticipation, and relief. At last, her mother was here, she was safe.

The stone walls of the chamber creaked and began to part, a shaft of light slicing through the semi-darkness.

As they opened fully, Ceti’s heart soared at the sight of her mother standing just outside.

“Mother!” she called out, her voice filled with joy as she rushed towards the figure framed in the entrance.

Merina’s eyes welled up with tears as she saw her daughter, a wide, relieved smile spreading across her face.

“Ceti!” Merina called out, her voice choked with emotion. She opened her arms wide, and the two of them ran into each other, embracing tightly as though they were never going to let go.

Behind them, Isola slowly entered while watching the heartfelt reunion, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Only she knew how worried and sad Merina was after they got separated for weeks, and other than feeling worried, Isola didn’t expect his absence to cause a sense of emptiness she couldn’t explain.

Maybe she had quite gotten used to his company while taking care of Callisa together.

“It’s about time you guys got back,” Asher’s voice resonated from beside Isola, a trace of smile on his lips.

Isola turned to face him, her sapphire blue eyes shimmering as they caught the faint glow from the chamber’s light.

A small smile graced her lips as she responded, “We are sorry we are late,” Her gaze swept over Asher and then Ceti, a sigh of relief and astonishment escaping her lips at their well-being despite the challenges they had faced.

Merina’s gaze turned towards Asher, her eyes glistening with a mix of relief and happiness, “Master…” she greeted him, bowing deeply in a show of respect, though, on the inside, she wished she could be in his embrace, and bask in his scent.

She was also worried about Ceti offending her Master when they were separated, especially since she was alone with him and could only hope she was nice to him.

Beside her, Ceti’s eyes narrowed in confusion upon spotting 5 unfamiliar faces lingering behind Isola. They seemed to be quite astonished by the existence of this private safe zone.

“Isola,” Ceti began, her eyes scanning the group, “Are these your friends?”

The question hung in the air as Ceti studied the five individuals who stood just behind Isola – two men and three women.

All were Umbralfiends, their unique appearances clear from the iridescent scales shimmering on their turquoise skin, blending with it flawlessly.

The women were tall and slender, their long, flowing hair varying shades of deep sea blues and greens.

Their eyes were large and round, as clear and deep as the ocean depths, filled with wary looks and nervous anticipation.

Their lithe bodies were clothed in traditional Umbralfiend attire, accentuating their feminine grace.

The men, on the other hand, were taller, with one of them being sturdy and broad while the other was lean and muscular.

Their eyes were sharp and keen, constantly darting around as they assessed their surroundings with evident wariness.

The set of their jaws showed the seriousness and concern they held for the situation.

And feeling Ceti’s gaze, all five of them unconsciously looked towards their princess with concerned looks, wondering if their presence was going to be troublesome for her despite her telling them to not worry earlier.

Even though they were more familiar with the royal consort, he wasn’t the only one from the Bloodburn Kingdom. The Battlemaster’s stern, scrutinizing gaze was still on them.

Isola nodded, her delicate features softening into a subtle smile, “Yes, they are some of the bravest and most loyal warriors among my people that we came upon in this dungeon,” she responded.

The five of them bowed briefly with a moved look, silently thanking their princess for holding them in such high regard.

Her gaze then swept over the five, her eyes reflecting pride and admiration, “We decided to travel together, and because of their assistance, we were able to reach here much more swiftly.”

She took a step forward, standing beside Asher while gesturing to the two men first, “This is Orin,” she introduced, pointing to the sturdy, broad-shouldered man. His eyes met Asher’s as he gave a respectful bow.

“And this is Sylus,” she continued, indicating the lean, muscular man who mirrored Orin’s actions with a similarly reserved demeanor.

Moving on to the women, she started with the tallest one, who had a calm and elegant aura about her, “This is Elysia, Orin’s wife,” she stated. Elysia bowed deeply, her eyes briefly meeting the royal consort’s.

“Next to her is her younger sister, Mirena,” she added, pointing to the short and defiant younger woman who was currently sporting a pout while craning her neck up to stare at him.

But with a stern look from Elysia and a slight push on her head, Mirena grudgingly bowed as well, not before shooting a playful glare towards her sister.

“And…,” Isola said, turning her attention to the woman standing beside Mirena, “This is Lyra, Sylus’ wife and a formidable warrior in her own right,” With a graceful dip of her head, Lyra acknowledged the introductions, casting a supportive glance at Sylus as she did.

Asher pulled Isola to the side, his brows furrowed as he watched the group of Umbralfiends, uncertainty coloring his normally assured gaze.

Before he could voice his concern, Isola’s soft voice echoed inside his mind, a reassuring murmur amidst his doubt.

“Asher,” she began, her voice resonating with conviction, “They can be trusted, I give you my word,” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Orin and Sylus are mid-level Soul Purgers, their wives Elysia and Lyra are low-level Soul Purgers. Mirena, despite her young age, is a mid-level Soul Reaper. Letting them join can only be good for all of us. We definitely need an alliance to make our journey ahead easier. Ceti wasn’t wrong to advise that earlier.”

After a moment of silence, he turned to look towards the five Umbralfiends, “Alright,” he said, his voice firm and steady, “I guess you all can tag along.”

From the side, Ceti watched as the scene unfolded, her brows knitted together as she had a slightly baffled look.

When she advised him to form alliances when the quest began, he flat-out refused her by saying he won’t trust anyone he didn’t know.

But when Isola brought along unfamiliar people, he didn’t even question her.

It was peculiar and out of character for Asher. Was there something she was missing? Or when did Asher start trusting Isola that much?

With closer observation, she noticed the way he talked and looked at Isola, and for some reason, she didn’t know why it was prickling her.

Merina noticed her daughter staring at her Master in a strange way. She knew Ceti didn’t like her Master, but this time, the look in her eyes seemed different than usual. There wasn’t a hint of the previous hostility she always had in her gaze.

“And where is my big girl?” Asher asked, an eager glint in his eyes.

He never thought he would miss Callisa’s playful antics so much, and her presence always seemed to bring a sense of comfort to him.

Isola retrieved the beast bag, her lips curling up in a subtle smile as she handed it to Asher.

“She’s probably sleeping,” Isola replied, “She couldn’t sleep at all for so many days without you around.”

Asher’s face softened at her words, “Sigh, I hope she at least didn’t stop eating…” he murmured, holding out the beast bag.

Before he could even utter her name fully, a radiant glow enveloped the bag, and in the next moment, Callisa’s colossal figure loomed over them.

“Koo! Koo!”

Her giant pincers snapped excitedly as she let out mewls of joy, each one resonating throughout the cavern. A single, large tear dripped from her bulbous eyes as she nuzzled against Asher with one of her pincers.

“Callisa…” Asher whispered with a smile, feeling an ache in his chest after seeing her cry.

He reached out to gently stroke her pincer, his fingers gliding across her hard carapace, “There’s no need to be sad anymore, my girl. We’re together now,” he reassured her, his voice firm yet gentle.

“I’m not going to let you out of my sight again,” he declared, a warm smile spreading across his face as he continued to soothe her.

The cavern was filled with a quiet calm as the rest of them watched this tender moment between Asher and the giant young Kraken, their hearts warming at the sight.

The five Umbralfiends standing behind had looks of awe and astonishment, not expecting their young guardian to have such a close and loving bond with the Bloodburn Consort.

They had seen him interacting with their guardian back home, though they weren’t really sure if he was putting on a show since most of the time, he would be interacting with their guardian alone, away from their sights. There were always gossips among their people how the Bloodburn Consort was planning to use their guardian for dubious means.

But now, they were beginning to feel that maybe their guardian wasn’t being taken advantage of as they initially believed. Otherwise, an intelligent and powerful creature like her would never reciprocate such feelings.

Nobody could forcibly receive respect from any such majestic creatures.

Asher’s relaxed mood swiftly turned into one of seriousness as he locked eyes with Isola, his lips pressing together into a thin line before speaking, “For weeks, Ceti and I have been struggling just to survive,” he said, his voice carrying an undertone of cold anger, “We were nearly killed due to this bounty on my head.”

A shadow passed over Isola’s face, a grim understanding in her sapphire eyes. Just as she feared, Asher and Ceti must have gone through a lot.

She felt bad she wasn’t able to get back to them quicker, though she remained silent and listened on.

Asher continued, his fists clenching in frustration, “I don’t see a point in guessing who placed the bounty on my head anymore.”

His gaze bore into Isola’s, “But what I need to understand is this: What is this Bounty Hunt all about? Is this going to be a regular occurrence where people will keep placing bounties on my head? I know now that we are together, we stand more chance to survive, but it is not a game I would like us to play every day. And if we have to…Then I want us to be prepared to survive it.”

Asher knew he had joined this quest despite knowing he wasn’t strong enough and had expected things to get difficult for him.

But just because he wasn’t strong enough, he didn’t want to simply give up and accept the consequences as it was. Depending on strength alone wouldn’t make one truly strong.

That was something he learned during his time as a Hunter.

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