Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 527 - Capítulo 527: Best leader

Capítulo 527: Best leader
The golem’s hand plunged into the soil with force that cracked the ground. For one heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Kelvin’s senses picked up a warning. Something was moving underground, spreading, building toward something catastrophic.
“SCATTER!” Kelvin bellowed, already activating the case on his chest.
The recruits moved, but not fast enough. Roots erupted from the earth like spears, dozens of them, bursting upward with enough force to punch through a wall. One caught Marcus across the shoulder, spinning him sideways. Another missed Reyna by inches, close enough that she felt the displacement.
The third went straight through the youngest recruit’s leg.
The kid—Daniel, Kelvin remembered suddenly—screamed. The root had speared him mid-thigh, pinning him to the ground as blood poured from the wound. The golem began pulling the root back, dragging Daniel with it.
KROME materialized in a cascade of unfolding metal and compressed space, the full ten-ton frame assembling around Kelvin in under two seconds. His perspective shifted immediately—nine feet of enhanced height, sensor feeds flooding his consciousness, weapon systems coming online with electronic precision.
The plasma cannon on his right shoulder swiveled and fired.
*BRRZZZZT—*
The beam severed the root holding Daniel. The recruit collapsed, clutching his leg, but at least he wasn’t being dragged toward the golem anymore. Kelvin positioned KROME between the wounded recruit and the advancing threat.
“Marcus! Get Daniel to the treeline and apply pressure to that wound!” Kelvin’s voice boomed through KROME’s external speakers. “Reyna, you and the others—spread out, flanking positions, keep it distracted! Do NOT engage directly, just make noise and look threatening!”
The golem moved. Not walking—flowing, its wooden limbs bending in ways that shouldn’t be anatomically possible. It closed half the distance to KROME in two strides, and Kelvin barely got his arms up before a massive fist came down like a falling tree.
*CRASH—*
The impact drove KROME’s feet six inches into the soil. Warning lights cascaded across Kelvin’s HUD. Hydraulics strained. He shoved back, servos screaming, and managed to throw the golem’s arm aside.
“Okay,” Kelvin muttered inside the cockpit. “You hit harder than you look.”
The golem’s other hand swept in from the side. Kelvin activated the thrusters, launching KROME backward fifteen feet. The golem’s fist carved through empty air where he’d been standing.
Reyna opened fire from the left flank—energy blasts from her rifle, cat three beast core powered, each shot carrying enough punch to crack stone. They hit the golem’s torso and simply sank in, absorbed by the bark-like surface. The golem didn’t even flinch.
“Not working!” Reyna shouted.
“Keep shooting anyway!” Kelvin returned fire with KROME’s plasma cannons. “We need to learn what hurts this thing!”
The twin beams scorched across the golem’s chest, creating blackened furrows in the wood. For exactly three seconds, it looked effective. Then vegetation sprouted from the damaged areas, fresh growth filling in the burns, healing the damage in real-time.
“Are you kidding me?” Kelvin activated the missile pods. “Fine. Let’s try explosive ordinance.”
Six micro-missiles launched simultaneously, streaking toward the golem from multiple angles. They detonated on impact, creating overlapping fireballs that engulfed the creature completely.
When the smoke cleared, the golem stood exactly where it had been. Scorched, certainly. Damaged, maybe. But already regenerating, new growth spreading across burned sections.
The green glow around its waist pulsed brighter.
“That’s it,” Kelvin said, his analytical mind processing what he was seeing. “That belt, that crystal—it’s a power source. It’s feeding the regeneration.”
The golem’s back bulged. Kelvin’s sensors caught movement—something growing, something launching—
“DOWN!”
Wooden spikes erupted from the golem’s spine, dozens of them, firing in all directions like organic missiles. Kelvin dove KROME sideways, thrusters burning, and most of them missed. Three didn’t. They slammed into KROME’s left arm and torso, punching through armor plating that had been designed to resist anti-tank weaponry.
[STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 89%]
[LEFT ARM ACTUATOR: DAMAGED]
[COMPENSATING…]
Kelvin rolled KROME to its feet, tore the spikes free with his functioning right hand. “Everyone still alive back there?”
“Here!” Marcus called from the treeline where he’d dragged Daniel. “Daniel’s stabilized but he’s done fighting!”
“Good! Stay there and—LOOK OUT!”
The golem was moving again, but not toward Kelvin. Toward Reyna and the other recruits, apparently deciding the smaller targets were easier prey.
“Oh no you don’t.” Kelvin activated the grappling hook. The magnetic clamp shot out on its retractable cable, wrapped around the golem’s leg, locked tight. “HEY! OVER HERE!”
He yanked. The golem stumbled, its charge interrupted, turning its attention back to KROME. Kelvin released the cable and switched to close combat mode.
The pile drivers in KROME’s forearms armed with a mechanical *CHUNK-CHUNK-CHUNK*.
Kelvin closed the distance, thrusters carrying him forward in a burst of speed. His fist connected with the golem’s midsection, and the pile drivers fired in sequence—three pneumatic strikes delivering concentrated kinetic force directly into the creature’s core.
*WHAM-WHAM-WHAM—*
The golem staggered. Actual damage, visible damage, wood splintering where the strikes had landed. But then roots burst from its feet, anchoring it to the ground, and its massive arms came around in a crushing embrace aimed at KROME’s torso.
Kelvin fired the thrusters at maximum burn, shooting upward, the golem’s arms closing on empty air beneath him.
“Reyna! The crystal! Shoot the glowing part around its waist!”
Reyna adjusted her aim, targeted the green glow, fired three shots in rapid succession. They hit dead center, and for the first time, the golem screamed. Not a roar—a sound like wood splitting, like something ancient and angry being wounded.
The green light flickered. The regeneration slowed.
“THAT’S IT!” Kelvin repositioned KROME mid-air, came down with both feet extended, drop-kick aimed directly at the crystal. “Everyone focus fire on the belt!”
His boots connected. The impact created a shockwave that knocked nearby vegetation flat. The crystal cracked, spiderweb fractures spreading across its surface, but didn’t shatter.
The golem went absolutely berserk.
Roots exploded from every surface—the ground, its body, even hanging from nearby trees suddenly animated and hostile. They came at KROME from every direction, wrapping around limbs, pulling, constricting. Kelvin fired his thrusters but couldn’t generate enough force against the dozens of restraints.
“Boss!” One of the other recruits—a kid with fire manipulation—sent a stream of flame at the roots binding KROME’s legs. The wood blackened, weakened. “We got you!”
Marcus was back in the fight, his injured shoulder forgotten. Dark chi blazed around his hands as he tore at roots with enhanced strength. Reyna kept firing at the crystal, each shot making the light flicker more severely.
Kelvin pushed KROME’s systems to maximum output. Thrusters roared. Hydraulics strained. The chest-mounted laser array activated, carving through roots with concentrated beams.
He broke free, leaving shredded plant matter behind, and immediately pivoted toward the golem. Its regeneration was slower now, struggling, the damaged crystal unable to provide sufficient power.
But it wasn’t done. The golem’s hands plunged into the earth again, and this time Kelvin felt the energy building toward something massive.
“Everyone run! GET TO THE TREES!”
The clearing exploded. Roots everywhere, bursting from the ground in a forest of wooden spears, each one seeking targets. KROME took a dozen hits, armor cracking, systems failing, but Kelvin kept moving forward because that crystal was right there, exposed, damaged, and if he could just—
The golem backhanded him. The impact sent KROME tumbling, crashing through undergrowth, until Kelvin arrested the momentum with his thrusters and came up facing the wrong direction.
By the time he turned around, the golem was moving. Not toward him. Away. Fleeing deeper into the jungle where the terrain grew swampy, where water and mud stretched for miles.
“Oh no,” Kelvin muttered. “You’re not getting away that easy.”
He gave chase. KROME was built for speed—the dragon fusion core from Nyx and Storm providing unlimited power, the thruster system designed for sustained flight at velocities that made conventional aircraft jealous. Kelvin pushed it hard, accelerating through the jungle in controlled bursts that turned trees into blurs.
They burst into a swampy section where the ground was more water than earth. The golem moved across it easily, its wooden construction giving it natural buoyancy. KROME flew above it, hovering on thruster power.
The golem turned to face him, apparently recognizing it couldn’t outrun the suit. Its hands swept through the swamp water, and suddenly the water itself became a weapon—tendrils rising up, hardened by plant matter mixed through them, coming at KROME from below.
Kelvin banked left, avoiding the first wave, then right to dodge the second. The golem was relentless, creating more and more tendrils, filling the air with grasping vines and hardened water.
One caught KROME’s leg. Kelvin fired the plasma cannon at it, severing the tendril, but three more took its place. His left leg got caught. Then his waist. The golem was pulling him down, using the swamp itself as a weapon.
Kelvin’s mind raced. The crystal was the key—he’d damaged it, weakened it, but hadn’t destroyed it. And now the golem was recovering, adapting, using the swamp’s resources to fuel its regeneration.
He needed something decisive. Something overwhelming. Something that would—
Kelvin felt the tendrils tighten. The cockpit shook. Power readings dipped. The suit gave a pained hiss. The golem raised both fists, ready to crush him.
He scanned his board. Every main weapon failed. Heat climbed. A single locked system sat at the bottom of the display, blinking through the warnings. He knew what it was. He had refused to test it. He had argued about it. He had hoped he would never touch it.
Kelvin unlocked it.
KROME’s chest plate split open. Inside, crystalline arrays began to glow—blue-white light that built in intensity until it hurt to look at. The dragon fusion core ramped to maximum output, feeding power into the weapon system at rates that would’ve melted a conventional reactor.
The golem’s fists dropped.
Kelvin fired.
It wasn’t a beam. It wasn’t a projectile. It was a wave of pure vibrational energy that expanded outward in a sphere, hitting everything within fifty meters with frequencies specifically tuned to shatter crystalline structures.
The golem’s fists disintegrated mid-swing. Its arms followed, wood exploding into splinters. The crystal around its waist—already cracked, already weakened—simply ceased to exist, blown apart on a molecular level by vibrations it had no defense against.
The golem froze. Its body lost cohesion. Wood separated into individual pieces. The vegetation growing from it withered and fell away. Within seconds, nothing remained except scattered timber and dead plant matter floating in the swamp.
Kelvin sat in KROME’s cockpit, breathing hard, watching the temperature gauges slowly tick back down from critical levels.
“Diana,” he said to the empty air, “I am never doubting your weapon designs again.”
“KELVIN!” Reyna’s voice crackled through the comms. “Are you alive? We felt that from here!”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He flew KROME out of the swamp, back toward solid ground. “Golem’s dead. Crystal’s destroyed. Everyone okay?”
“Daniel needs medical attention but he’ll live. Everyone else is bruised but functional.”
“Good. Let’s finish clearing the area and get paid.”
—
It took another two hours to sweep the rest of the jungle. What they found was dozens of smaller plant-based beasts—cat twos mostly, with a few cat threes mixed in. But with the alpha dead, the ecosystem’s apex predator removed, the lesser beasts scattered immediately. No fight. No resistance. Just animals fleeing a territory that no longer had protection.
By the time they made it back to the ship, the sun was setting, painting the sky in oranges and reds. Daniel was on a stretcher, sedated and stable. The others were exhausted but whole.
Kelvin stood outside the ship, KROME compressed back down to its case, and looked at the jungle they’d just cleared. A day’s work. One alpha eliminated. Contract completed. Nobody dead, though Daniel would need treatment which shouldn’t take one of their healers that much to do.
Could’ve been worse.
“That was incredible.” Reyna appeared beside him, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. “The way you just… figured it out. Adapted. That final weapon—what even was that?”
“Something Diana installed,” Kelvin replied, unable to hide the pleased grin. “She called it overkill. I called it unnecessary. Turns out we were both wrong—it was exactly necessary.”
Marcus joined them. “Seriously though. You took down a cat four with five recruits as backup. That’s the kind of thing people tell stories about.”
“Well, to be fair, the real MVP was Diana’s over-engineering,” Kelvin said. “Also KROME. KROME did a lot of heavy lifting. Literally.”
They boarded the ship, settling into seats for the flight home. Kelvin was running diagnostics on KROME’s damage—nothing catastrophic, but the left arm would need serious repairs, and several armor plates were compromised enough to require replacement. The resonance cannon had performed flawlessly, but Diana would want a full on its first combat use.
Diana. Who’d spent three days installing that weapon system despite his protests. Who’d insisted it would save his life someday. Who’d been absolutely right.
“You know,” Reyna said after they’d been flying for twenty minutes, “you’re really good at this. The leadership thing. Teaching. You are kind of the most grounded amongst the big guys at the faction. You know? We see a level we can almost dare to dream of getting close to. You make us feel like we can handle impossible situations.”
“I have my moments,” Kelvin agreed.
“Also—” Reyna’s tone shifted to something more careful, “—if you’re ever not interested in Diana, I’m available. Just putting that out there.”
Kelvin nearly choked. “What?”
“I’m just saying.” Reyna leaned back in her seat, completely casual. “We all know Diana likes you. She’s confessed, right? Everyone’s seen how she looks at you in the workshop. But if you’re not going to do anything about that, maybe consider other options before someone else in the faction decides they’re interested.”
Marcus grinned. “She’s got a point. Diana’s definitely into you.”
“Diana is—we’re friends,” Kelvin protested weakly.
“Diana is smoking hot,” the fire-manipulator recruit chimed in. “Just saying. If you’re not making a move, someone else will.”
“She’s also terrifying,” Kelvin countered. “Ice-cold tactical genius who could kill me seventeen different ways without breaking a sweat.”
“I like a scary mommy,” Marcus said with complete sincerity.
The other male recruits nodded agreement. “Scary mommy is the best kind of mommy.”
Kelvin put his face in his hands. “I hate all of you. This entire conversation is a disaster.”
㘚䤹䤹䨰䡼䭛䨰㿴㷧
盧
爐
䆞䤹㘚㡓㡓
櫓
㢶䡼㷧
䤹䊣䪀㾳
㢶㡓䆞㽑䊣
䊣㡓㞃䆞
盧
㡄䊣㾏䆞㡓㷧
䆞䭛䆞㢶䤹
盧
䊣䆞㢶䅩䪀㷧
䡼㘚䉧
盧
䊣㡄䨰㡄䆞䶇㢶㘚
㽑䭛
䭛㢶䉧㷧
䆞䉧䤹䪀
䡼㷧
㮢䪀䆞㜡
䉧䆞䪀䤹
㢶䅩䊣䊣䆞䨰㽑
䆞䘺䘺㷧㷧䆞䨰㷧
擄
䱏䪀䊣
䤹䊣䪀
㷧㢶䡼
䡼
蘆
擄
䊣䪀㷧䉧
䊣䪀䱏
䤹㜡䪀䊣
䊣䉧㷧䪀
䡼㿴㜡䨰
老
㿴㡓䊣㿴䭛䊣
䅩㿴䨰䅩䡼㾳㡓䭛
䶇䭛䤹
䨰䪀䡼䊣
䲜㘚䨰䶇䆞䨰䊣䤹
䪀㾳䶇䆞㢶䨰㮢䲜䡼㡓㘚
䪀䤹䊣
䉧㡓䡼㾳㘚䡼
䊣䭛㢶䤹䪀䶇䲜
㷥䊣㢶㢶䊣䊣㿀䤹㷧
䅩䭛䘺䡼䨰㢶㷧䆞
䪀㡓’㢶㘚䤹㷧䭛䶇
䪀䊣
䡼䪀㡄㿀䊣
䊣䪀䡼䊣㿴㿴㷧㢶
䤹㘚䘺䡼䨰䤹䆞㷧
㘚㜡㷧䭛䭛䆞㘚䇻䤹䆞㿴㘚
㢶䊣䡼㡓䨰㾳䡼
㡓䶇㢶䭛䲜
䪀䤹䤹䡼
㘚䆞䭛䊣㷧䤹㜡䘺䪀
㘚㘚䪀䆞
“䨚䆞㢶 㾳䭛䶇 㘚䊣䊣 䉧䪀䊣㷧 䪀䊣 㝜䶇㘚䤹 㽑㡓䊣䉧 䆞㷧䤹䭛 䤹䪀䊣 㘚䉧䡼㜡㿴䰵” 㥡䡼䨰䲜䶇㘚 䉧䡼㘚 㘚䡼㾳䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 䭛㷧䊣 䭛㽑 䤹䪀䊣 䭛䤹䪀䊣䨰 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚㿀 “㿗䶇㘚䤹 㘚䤹䨰䡼䆞䘺䪀䤹 䶇㿴 㽑㡓䊣䉧 䡼㽑䤹䊣䨰 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 㡓䆞㞃䊣 䆞䤹 䭛䉧䊣㢶 䪀䆞㜡 㜡䭛㷧䊣㾳㿀”
“䱏䪀䊣 䨰䊣㘚䭛㷧䡼㷧䲜䊣 䲜䡼㷧㷧䭛㷧 䤹䪀䭛䶇䘺䪀㮢” 㟗䊣㾳㷧䡼 䡼㢶㢶䊣㢶㿀 “䱏䪀䡼䤹 䉧䡼㘚 䆞㷧㘚䡼㷧䊣㿀 䱏䪀䊣 䘺䭛㡓䊣㜡 㝜䶇㘚䤹 㢶䆞㘚䆞㷧䤹䊣䘺䨰䡼䤹䊣㢶㿀”
䨰䡼䭛㢶㷧䶇
㘚㜡㘚䆞䨰䭛䲜䭛㷧㿴䊣
㡓㷧䊣㡄㾏䆞
䆞㡓㷧䊣㽑䊣䘺
䭛䤹
䭛㘚䤹㷧
㷧䊣䊣䨰䆞㷧䘺䊣䆞䘺㷧
㷧䊣䱏
䪀䊣䤹
㽑䭛
䪀䤹䊣
䪀䆞㜡
䡼㢶㘚㢶㝜䤹䶇䊣
䭛㡄䨰㷧䶇䊣㘚
䪀䲜㘚㮢䤹䊣
䭛㢶㷧䉧
䪀䲜䆞䊣㷧㘚
䊣䤹䆞㷧㘚䭛䘺㜡䪀
䨰㾳䊣㡄䊣
䪀䊣
䪀䡼㜡䤹
䪀䤹䡼䤹
䤹䊣䪀
䭛䤹䡼䶇䅩
䲜䭛䶇㡓㢶
䆞䡼䡼䆞㡓㜡䨰㽑
㷧䭛
䭛䶇䘺䤹䪀䪀䤹
䶇䲜䨰䊣䊣㢶㢶
㡓㝜㿀㾳䨰䊣䉧䊣
䡼㜡㢶䊣
㘚㡓䤹㡓䆞
㢶䊣㘚㷧䊣㢶㷧䭛䲜
㘚䡼䊣䲜
㷥㘚䆞
䊣䪀䲜㷧䆞䡼㮢㜡
䭛㽑
㥡䧼䙦㟗㾏
㘚䡼䆞㡓㿴䡼䤹
㽑䭛
㡓䊣㞃䆞
䉧䡼䨰
䤹䆞䊣㜡
䤹䭛
䪀䊣
㘚䪀䆞
䡼㢶䨰䪀㿀
䭛䤹䭛
䊣䉧䪀䘺䆞䤹
䨰䨰㾳䲜䡼
“䌂㡓䨰䆞䘺䪀䤹㮢 䡼㡓䨰䆞䘺䪀䤹㮢” 䪀䊣 㘚䡼䆞㢶㮢 䤹䶇䨰㷧䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 㽑䡼䲜䊣 䤹䪀䊣㜡 䡼㘚 䤹䪀䊣㾳 䨰䊣䡼䲜䪀䊣㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㜡䡼䆞㷧 䲜䭛䶇䨰䤹㾳䡼䨰㢶㿀 “䒪䊣䤹’㘚 㷧䭛䤹 䤹䶇䨰㷧 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䆞㷧䤹䭛 䡼 䪀䊣䨰䭛䆞䲜 㘚䡼䘺䡼㿀 䞳䊣 䲜䭛㜡㿴㡓䊣䤹䊣㢶 䡼 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹㮢 㷧䭛䅩䭛㢶㾳 㢶䆞䊣㢶㮢 䨚䡼㷧䆞䊣㡓’㘚 䡼㡓䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䆞㷧 㜡䊣㢶䆞䲜䡼㡓 䘺䊣䤹䤹䆞㷧䘺 㿴䡼䤹䲜䪀䊣㢶 䶇㿴㿀 䱏䪀䡼䤹’㘚 䡼 㘚䶇䲜䲜䊣㘚㘚㽑䶇㡓 䭛㿴䊣䨰䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧 䅩㾳 䡼㷧㾳 㜡䊣䤹䨰䆞䲜㿀”
“㴖䭛䶇 䤹䭛䭛㞃 㢶䭛䉧㷧 䡼 䲜䡼䤹 㽑䭛䶇䨰㮢” 㥡䡼䨰䲜䶇㘚 䆞㷧㘚䆞㘚䤹䊣㢶㿀 “䞳䆞䤹䪀 㽑䆞㡄䊣 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚 䡼㘚 䅩䡼䲜㞃䶇㿴㿀 䱏䪀䡼䤹’㘚 㷧䭛䤹 㘚䤹䡼㷧㢶䡼䨰㢶 䭛㿴䊣䨰䡼䤹䆞㷧䘺 㿴䨰䭛䲜䊣㢶䶇䨰䊣㿀”
㮢䊣㾳㘚
䪀䤹䊣
䘺䨰䲜䊣㿴䊣㷧䆞
㢶䊣㜡䡼
㷧䶇㢶㘚䭛
䲜䨰䭛䨰㢶䊣㿴䊣䶇
䤹䪀㘚䆞
䤹㷧䡼䪀
㿴䶇
䡼㷧㢶
㭙䶇䊣䤹䆞
䭛㡄䊣䨰䨰䡼䤹䊣㢶
㘚㢶䊣㿴䡼㡓䊣
䨰䤹䰈”䡼㷧㢶䡼㢶
䡼㷧”㾳䉧䡼㾳㿀
㾳䭛䶇
䤹䊣䘺
䅩䤹䶇
㲞
䊣䪀䤹㜡
䆞㘚
䡼㜡㿀”
䊣䆞䤹㜡
䊣䊣㡓㷧㢶䲜䡼
䪀䭛㮢䨰㘚䶇
䆞㜡䊣䤹
‘㜡㲞
㘚䨰䊣㘚䶇㿴㿴㘚
䨰䤹㷧䘺䆞䆞䉧
䤹䪀䊣
㿴䨰䭛䊣䡼䤹䘺㷧䆞
䉧䊣䡼㢶㡄
䊣䅩㘚䶇䲜䊣䡼
䆞䊣䨚㽑䨰䊣䅩
㿀䶇㿴
㷧䆞
‘䭛䤹䶇䲜㷧㡓㢶
䡼䉧㾳
㻮”䭛
䉧䤹䭛
㡓䡼㘚䤹
㽑䭛㽑㮢
䊣㜡
㡓䪀䶇㽑㘚
㘚㾳䘺䶇
䊣䨰䲜䭛㡓䭛
䶇㾳㡓䡼㡓䤹䲜䡼
䤹䨰䭛䊣㿴䨰
䊣䲜㷧㿀㞃
㘚䆞䪀
䊣䪀
㷧䊣㡄䆞㾏㡓
“㲞㜡㿴䭛㘚㘚䆞䅩㡓䊣㮢” 㟗䊣㾳㷧䡼 䲜䡼㡓㡓䊣㢶 䅩䡼䲜㞃 䡼㘚 䤹䪀䊣㾳 䪀䊣䡼㢶䊣㢶 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䅩䡼䨰䨰䡼䲜㞃㘚 㘚䊣䲜䤹䆞䭛㷧㿀 “㴖䭛䶇 䲜䡼㷧’䤹 㢶䭛䉧㷧㿴㡓䡼㾳 㞃䆞㡓㡓䆞㷧䘺 䡼 㽑䭛䨰䊣㘚䤹 䘺䭛㡓䊣㜡㿀 䱏䪀䊣 㽑䡼䲜䤹㘚 㘚㿴䊣䡼㞃 㽑䭛䨰 䤹䪀䊣㜡㘚䊣㡓㡄䊣㘚㿀”
㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䉧䡼䤹䲜䪀䊣㢶 䤹䪀䊣㜡 䘺䭛㮢 㘚䤹䆞㡓㡓 㘚㜡䆞㡓䆞㷧䘺 㢶䊣㘚㿴䆞䤹䊣 䪀䆞㜡㘚䊣㡓㽑㿀 䱏䪀䨰䊣䊣 䉧䊣䊣㞃㘚 㘚䆞㷧䲜䊣 䤹䪀䊣 㷧䭛䨰䤹䪀䊣䨰㷧 㽑䡼䲜䆞㡓䆞䤹㾳 䡼㘚㘚䡼䶇㡓䤹㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㽑䡼䲜䤹䆞䭛㷧 䉧䡼㘚 㽑䆞㷧䡼㡓㡓㾳 㘚䊣䤹䤹㡓䆞㷧䘺 䆞㷧䤹䭛 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㽑䊣㡓䤹 㘚䶇㘚䤹䡼䆞㷧䡼䅩㡓䊣㿀 䱏䪀䊣 㽑䶇㷧䊣䨰䡼㡓㘚 䉧䊣䨰䊣 䅩䊣䪀䆞㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣㜡㿀 䱏䪀䊣 䉧䭛䶇㷧㢶䊣㢶 䉧䊣䨰䊣 䨰䊣䲜䭛㡄䊣䨰䆞㷧䘺㿀 㭭䊣䉧 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹㘚 䉧䊣䨰䊣 䲜䭛㜡䆞㷧䘺 䆞㷧 㘚䤹䊣䡼㢶䆞㡓㾳 㷧䭛䉧 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䙦䲜㡓䆞㿴㘚䊣 䪀䡼㢶 㿴䨰䭛㡄䊣㷧 䆞䤹㘚䊣㡓㽑㿀
䉧䊣䊣䨰
䤹㡓䡼㡓㿀䶇䡼䲜㾳
䪀䡼㷧䤹
䆞㷧㘚䘺䱏䪀
䘺䭛㢶䭛㿀
䨰䥺䤹䊣䊣䤹
䘺㢶䭛㮢䭛
䞳䪀䆞䲜䪀 㜡䊣䡼㷧䤹 䪀䆞㘚 䅩䨰䡼䆞㷧 䉧䡼㘚 䡼㡓䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䉧䭛䨰㞃䆞㷧䘺 䭛㡄䊣䨰䤹䆞㜡䊣 㽑䆞㷧㢶䆞㷧䘺 㿴䨰䭛䅩㡓䊣㜡㘚 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㢶䆞㢶㷧’䤹 䊣㷥䆞㘚䤹 㾳䊣䤹㿀
㔧䊣 䪀䊣䡼㢶䊣㢶 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㜡䡼䆞㷧 䅩䶇䆞㡓㢶䆞㷧䘺㮢 䆞㷧䤹䊣㷧㢶䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 㢶䨰䭛㿴 䭛㽑㽑 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹 䲜䭛㜡㿴㡓䊣䤹䆞䭛㷧 㿴䡼㿴䊣䨰䉧䭛䨰㞃 䉧䆞䤹䪀 䰈䡼㜡 䅩䊣㽑䭛䨰䊣 㢶䭛䆞㷧䘺 㡓䆞䤹䊣䨰䡼㡓㡓㾳 䡼㷧㾳䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䊣㡓㘚䊣㿀 䱏䪀䊣 䲜䭛㜡㜡䭛㷧 䡼䨰䊣䡼㘚 䉧䊣䨰䊣 㜡䭛䨰䊣 㿴䭛㿴䶇㡓䡼䤹䊣㢶 䤹䪀䡼㷧 䶇㘚䶇䡼㡓 䡼䤹 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䤹䆞㜡䊣 䭛㽑 㢶䡼㾳㿀 㟗䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚 䲜㡓䶇㘚䤹䊣䨰䊣㢶 䆞㷧 㘚㜡䡼㡓㡓 䘺䨰䭛䶇㿴㘚㮢 㘚䭛㜡䊣 䨰䊣㡄䆞䊣䉧䆞㷧䘺 䤹䡼䲜䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓 㽑䭛䭛䤹䡼䘺䊣㮢 䭛䤹䪀䊣䨰㘚 㝜䶇㘚䤹 䤹䡼㡓㞃䆞㷧䘺 䡼㷧㢶 㢶䊣䲜䭛㜡㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䊣 䉧䡼㾳 㿴䊣䭛㿴㡓䊣 㢶䆞㢶 䉧䪀䊣㷧 䤹䪀䊣㾳 䉧䊣䨰䊣㷧’䤹 䡼䲜䤹䆞㡄䊣㡓㾳 䤹䨰㾳䆞㷧䘺 㷧䭛䤹 䤹䭛 㢶䆞䊣㿀
㡓䭛䭛㮢㽑䨰
‘䡼㘚䰈㜡
䡼㢶䪀
㷧䭛
䤹䊣䪀
㡓㾳䊣䊣㢶㡓
䊣㿀㡓㘚㘚䭛㷧
䡼䤹
䊣㷧䲜䭛㞃㢶㞃
㢶㷧䊣䭛䲜㘚
㷧䊣䆞㡄㡓㾏
䭛䆞䊣㽑䲜㽑
䡼䉧㘚
䲜䊣䭛㷧
㘚䪀䆞
䲜䊣㾳㡓㷥䤹䡼
䆞䪀㜡
㽑䪀䡼㿀䇻㷧㡓䭛㿴䊣
㡓䨰䊣䡼䊣㷧㢶
䊣䅩㘚䊣䶇䡼䲜
㾳䡼䡼㷧䉧㾳
䡼㷧㢶
䆞㷧
䤹䤹䘺䭛䊣㷧
‘䪀㢶䊣
䭛䭛㢶䨰
䡼䨰䘺㷧䆞䘺䅩
“㺵䭛㜡䊣 䆞㷧㿀”
䰈䡼㜡 㘚䡼䤹 䅩䊣䪀䆞㷧㢶 䪀䆞㘚 㢶䊣㘚㞃㮢 㘚䶇䨰䨰䭛䶇㷧㢶䊣㢶 䅩㾳 䤹䡼䅩㡓䊣䤹㘚 㢶䆞㘚㿴㡓䡼㾳䆞㷧䘺 㡄䡼䨰䆞䭛䶇㘚 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹 䭛㽑㽑䊣䨰㘚 䡼㷧㢶 㽑䡼䲜䤹䆞䭛㷧 㡓䭛䘺䆞㘚䤹䆞䲜㘚㿀 㔧䊣 㡓䭛䭛㞃䊣㢶 䶇㿴 䉧䪀䊣㷧 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䊣㷧䤹䊣䨰䊣㢶㮢 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 㘚䪀䆞㽑䤹䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 㡓䆞㞃䊣 䲜䡼䶇䤹䆞䭛䶇㘚 䭛㿴䤹䆞㜡䆞㘚㜡㿀
䊣㞃㿴䊣
䭛䤹
䊣㜡
䪀䤹䊣
䊣㡓”㮢䘺
㢶㘚㿀䡼䆞
䱏㡓”㡓䊣
‘㘚䆞㷧䊣㡓䡼䨚
䘺㷧䭛䘺䆞
䡼䰈㜡
“䨚䡼㷧䆞䊣㡓’㘚 㞃䊣䊣㿴䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䊣 㡓䊣䘺㿀 㺵㡓䊣䡼㷧 㿴䶇㷧䲜䤹䶇䨰䊣㮢 㷧䭛 㜡䡼㝜䭛䨰 䡼䨰䤹䊣䨰㾳 㢶䡼㜡䡼䘺䊣㮢 䪀䊣䡼㡓䊣䨰’㘚 䡼㡓䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䉧䭛䨰㞃䆞㷧䘺 䭛㷧 䆞䤹㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㘚䊣䤹 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛㜡㿴㡓䊣䤹䊣㢶 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹 㢶䭛䲜䶇㜡䊣㷧䤹䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧 䭛㷧 䤹䪀䊣 㢶䊣㘚㞃㿀 “㡾䭛䨰䊣㘚䤹 䘺䭛㡓䊣㜡 䊣㡓䆞㜡䆞㷧䡼䤹䊣㢶㮢 䤹䊣䨰䨰䆞䤹䭛䨰㾳 䲜㡓䊣䡼䨰䊣㢶㮢 䲜㡓䆞䊣㷧䤹’㘚 䪀䡼㿴㿴㾳㿀 䞳䊣’䨰䊣 䭛㽑㽑䆞䲜䆞䡼㡓㡓㾳 㽌䊣䨰䭛 㽑䭛䨰 㽌䊣䨰䭛 䭛㷧 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹 㽑䡼䤹䡼㡓䆞䤹䆞䊣㘚 㢶䶇䨰䆞㷧䘺 㜡㾳 䲜䭛㜡㜡䡼㷧㢶㮢 䉧䪀䆞䲜䪀 㲞’㜡 䲜䭛䶇㷧䤹䆞㷧䘺 䡼㘚 䡼 䉧䆞㷧㿀”
“㻮䭛䭛㢶 䉧䭛䨰㞃㿀” 䰈䡼㜡 㿴䶇㡓㡓䊣㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㢶䭛䲜䶇㜡䊣㷧䤹䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䪀䆞㜡㮢 㘚䲜䡼㷧㷧䆞㷧䘺 䆞䤹 䅩䨰䆞䊣㽑㡓㾳㿀 “㺵䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹䭛䨰’㘚 䡼㡓䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䲜䭛㷧㽑䆞䨰㜡䊣㢶 㿴䡼㾳㜡䊣㷧䤹㿀 䰈䪀䭛䶇㡓㢶 䪀䆞䤹 䭛䶇䨰 䡼䲜䲜䭛䶇㷧䤹㘚 䅩㾳 䊣㷧㢶 䭛㽑 㢶䡼㾳㿀”
䡼䊣䉧䡼䨰
㘚䲜㢶㷧䨰㾳䊣䭛䡼
㷧㡄㡓䊣䆞㾏
䊣㔧㾳䲜䤹㾳㡓䤹䭛䡼㡓㿴䆞䪀
㡄㝜䊣䊣䭛䅩䆞䲜䤹
䤹䆞䉧䪀
䆞䪀㘚
䊣䊣䪀䨰
㢶䅩䭛䊣㾳㷧
䊣㢶㘚㡓㢶䶇㷧㾳
䆞㷧䊣䶇㘚䭛㿀䤹㷝
䡼㘚㷧㿴䊣㞃䘺”䆞㿀
䊣䲜䭛㜡
㿀䭛”䰈
䡼
䡼䤹䪀䤹
䪀㘚㽑䊣䤹䆞㢶
䉧䤹䊣䆞㮢䪀䘺
䊣㢶’䪀
㿴䊣䡼䨰㿀䨰㿴㞃䉧䭛
䰈䡼㜡’㘚 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 䅩䊣䲜䡼㜡䊣 䉧䡼䨰㾳㿀 “㲞 㢶䭛㷧’䤹 㡓䆞㞃䊣 䉧䪀䊣䨰䊣 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䆞㘚 䘺䭛䆞㷧䘺㿀”
“㴖䭛䶇 䪀䡼㡄䊣㷧’䤹 䊣㡄䊣㷧 䪀䊣䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㭙䶇䊣㘚䤹䆞䭛㷧 㾳䊣䤹㿀”
䊣㜡䆞㡓䆞㘚㿴
䘺䭛䆞㷧䘺
䲜䤹䭛㘚
䪀䊣䤹
䭛䤹
䨰䭛
㘚㘚㔨䭛㡓㾳䆞䅩
䶇㘚䊣䲜䡼
㘚䶇㷧䆞㭙䭛䊣䤹
㷧䭛㜡㾳䊣
䊣䅩㿀㿴㜡㡓䨰䭛㘚
䅩䤹”㿀䪀䭛
㴖䨰”䶇䭛
䊣䭛䤹㷧
㘚䆞
“㲞䤹’㘚 㷧䊣䆞䤹䪀䊣䨰䖊” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㿴䨰䭛䤹䊣㘚䤹䊣㢶㿀 “䞳䊣㡓㡓㿀 㲞䤹 㜡䆞䘺䪀䤹 䲜䭛㘚䤹 䡼 㡓䆞䤹䤹㡓䊣 㜡䭛㷧䊣㾳㿀 䥺䶇䤹 㽑䭛䨰 䡼 䘺䭛䭛㢶 䨰䊣䡼㘚䭛㷧㿀 䌂 㜡䭛䨰䡼㡓䊣䇻䅩䶇䆞㡓㢶䆞㷧䘺 䨰䊣䡼㘚䭛㷧㿀”
䰈䡼㜡 㘚䊣䤹 㢶䭛䉧㷧 䤹䪀䊣 䤹䡼䅩㡓䊣䤹 䪀䊣’㢶 䅩䊣䊣㷧 䪀䭛㡓㢶䆞㷧䘺㿀 “䙦㷥㿴㡓䡼䆞㷧㿀”
“㘚䭛䅩㿀㝜
㡓䆞䊣㞃
“䞳䊣
䤹䭛㜡䶇䪀
䭛䤹㿴㘚
䭛䤹
㜡䊣䡼䅩㾳
㽑㢶㮢䭛䭛
䊣䊣㽑䭛䨰䅩
䊣㡓䊣㾳䨰䡼㷧䘺㡓
䡼㿴㿀”䨰䤹㾳
䭛㽑
䡼㽑䤹䆞䲜㷧䭛
䉧䡼㘚
䨰䅩䡼䆞㷧
㽑䆞
㾳䘺㢶㷧䆞
䶇䭛䤹
䪀䭛䤹䨰䉧
㘚䭛㜡䊣
䆞䪀㘚
䡼
䪀㘚䭛㡓㢶䶇
䤹䊣䘺
䶇㿗㘚䤹
䤹㷧䭛
䡼㷧㢶
㢶㘚䉧䭛䨰
䤹㾳䘺䨰䆞㷧
㜡䪀䊣䤹㿀
䤹䪀䊣㜡
䡼
䭛䶇䨰
䤹䶇䭛
䊣䊣䤹䆞㷧䲜㡓䡼䭛䨰䅩
㡓䡼㡓
㽑䡼䊣䨰䤹㘚
䪀㷧䤹䡼
䊣䘺䅩䆞㷧
㡄䊣䆞㡓㷧㾏
䲜䊣䡼㜡
䶇㡓䲜㢶䭛
䪀㜡䊣㿀䤹
䪀䱏䊣
㾳㿴䨰䤹䤹䊣
㭭䤹”䭛
㷧䊣㢶䊣䤹㢶䆞㮢㷧
㿴䊣㿴㡓䊣䭛
䆞䪀㘚
䡼䉧㷧䤹
㿴䊣㮢㡓䨰㘚䊣䭛㷧㷧
䤹䡼
䒪䭛㾳䇻㞃䉧䊣
㾳䨰䊣䲜㷧䊣䤹㡓
䭛㷧䊣㿀
㘚䨰㷧䆞㢶㞃
䆞䘺䅩
䭛㢶䘺䭛
“䞳䊣 㝜䶇㘚䤹 䪀䡼㢶 㜡䊣㜡䭛䨰䆞䡼㡓 㘚䊣䨰㡄䆞䲜䊣㘚 䤹䪀䨰䊣䊣 䉧䊣䊣㞃㘚 䡼䘺䭛㿀”
“㟗䆞䘺䪀䤹㮢 䉧䪀䆞䲜䪀 䆞㘚 䊣㷥䡼䲜䤹㡓㾳 䉧䪀㾳 䉧䊣 㷧䊣䊣㢶 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 㿴䭛㘚䆞䤹䆞㡄䊣㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㡓䊣䡼㷧䊣㢶 㽑䭛䨰䉧䡼䨰㢶 㘚㡓䆞䘺䪀䤹㡓㾳㮢 䉧䡼䨰㜡䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 䤹䪀䊣 䡼䨰䘺䶇㜡䊣㷧䤹 㷧䭛䉧 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䪀䊣’㢶 㘚䤹䡼䨰䤹䊣㢶㿀 “䒪䭛䭛㞃㮢 䤹䪀䊣 㷧䊣䉧 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚 䡼䨰䊣 㘚䤹䆞㡓㡓 㿴䨰䭛䲜䊣㘚㘚䆞㷧䘺 䤹䨰䡼䶇㜡䡼 㽑䨰䭛㜡 䤹䪀䊣 㷧䭛䨰䤹䪀䊣䨰㷧 㽑䡼䲜䆞㡓䆞䤹㾳㿀 䙦㡄䊣䨰㾳䭛㷧䊣 㘚䡼䉧 㿴䊣䭛㿴㡓䊣 㢶䆞䊣㿀 㿨䡼㡓䊣㷧䲜䆞䡼㮢 䤹䪀䊣 㻮䨰䊣㾳 㘚䭛㡓㢶䆞䊣䨰㘚㮢 䡼㡓㡓 䭛㽑 䆞䤹㿀 䱏䪀䡼䤹 㘚䆞䤹㘚 䪀䊣䡼㡄㾳 䆞㽑 㾳䭛䶇 㢶䭛㷧’䤹 䘺䆞㡄䊣 㿴䊣䭛㿴㡓䊣 䡼 䲜䪀䡼㷧䲜䊣 䤹䭛 㢶䊣䲜䭛㜡㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚 䡼㷧㢶 䨰䊣㜡䊣㜡䅩䊣䨰 䉧䪀㾳 䤹䪀䊣㾳’䨰䊣 䪀䊣䨰䊣㿀”
㡄䊣㷥㽑䆞䊣䊣㡓䨰㡓㾳
䘺㷧㘚䭛䲜䆞䆞㢶䊣㷧䨰
䊣䡼䡼㡄䘺㿀㢶䤹䡼㷧
䡼䰈㜡
㷧㡓䆞䆞䤹䊣㷧㘚䘺
䡼䉧㘚
㷧䊣䤹㘚䡼䆞㢶
䉧䭛㷧㮢
䆞㿀㘚㜡䘺㢶䆞㷧㘚䆞㘚
㢶䊣㿴䨰㘚㘚䊣
䶇䡼䲜䤹䡼㡓㾳㡓
䪀䆞㘚
㽑䭛
㷧㡄䊣㡓䆞㾏
“㔨㡓䶇㘚㮢 㜡䭛䨰䡼㡓䊣 䪀䡼㘚 㿴䨰䡼䲜䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓 䡼㿴㿴㡓䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚㿀 㔧䡼㿴㿴㾳 㿴䊣䭛㿴㡓䊣 㽑䆞䘺䪀䤹 䅩䊣䤹䤹䊣䨰㿀 䱏䪀䊣㾳 㜡䡼㞃䊣 䅩䊣䤹䤹䊣䨰 䤹䡼䲜䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓 㢶䊣䲜䆞㘚䆞䭛㷧㘚㿀 䱏䪀䊣㾳 㡓䭛䭛㞃 䭛䶇䤹 㽑䭛䨰 䊣䡼䲜䪀 䭛䤹䪀䊣䨰 䆞㷧㘚䤹䊣䡼㢶 䭛㽑 㝜䶇㘚䤹 䤹䨰㾳䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 㘚䶇䨰㡄䆞㡄䊣 䆞㷧㢶䆞㡄䆞㢶䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳㿀” 㔧䊣 䘺䊣㘚䤹䶇䨰䊣㢶 㡄䡼䘺䶇䊣㡓㾳 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛㜡㜡䭛㷧 䡼䨰䊣䡼㘚㿀 “㲞’㡄䊣 䤹䪀䨰䭛䉧㷧 㿴䡼䨰䤹䆞䊣㘚 䅩䊣㽑䭛䨰䊣㿀 䥺䡼䲜㞃 䭛㷧 䤹䪀䊣 㿨䡼㷧䘺䶇䡼䨰㢶 㘚䤹䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧 䆞㷧 㘚㿴䡼䲜䊣㿀 㲞 㞃㷧䭛䉧 䪀䭛䉧 䤹䭛 䭛䨰䘺䡼㷧䆞㽌䊣 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㢶䭛䊣㘚㷧’䤹 㢶䊣㡄䭛㡓㡄䊣 䆞㷧䤹䭛 䲜䪀䡼䭛㘚㿀”
“䨚䊣㽑䆞㷧䊣 䲜䪀䡼䭛㘚 䆞㷧 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䲜䭛㷧䤹䊣㷥䤹㿀”
䭛䊣㷧䊣㡄䊣䨰㾳
䊣䅩
䊣䘺䤹㘚
䊣㷥㷧䤹
㿴䶇
䘺䤹㷧䨰䆞䡼㷧䆞
䭛䤹
䭛䉧㘚䪀㘚
䭛䤹
䤹䪀䤹䡼
䪀䤹䊣
䊣䆞㮢㽑㢶㷥
䊣䡼䨰䨰㜡㘚䡼㘚䅩
䲜㷧䤹䡼’
䶇㷧䤹䡼㡓䲜㽑㷧䆞䭛
䭛㷧䤹
䶇䨰䤹䪀㮢
䡼㷧㢶
䅩䭛”㭭㾳㢶䭛
㞃䅩㷧䨰䊣䭛
䪀䊣䭛㷧䶇䘺
㷧䪀䭛㷧䤹䆞䘺
䊣㘚䤹䘺
㾳㢶䡼
“㡄㿀䊣㡓㜡䊣䊣䪀㘚䤹㘚
䰈䡼㜡 䡼䲜䤹䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳 㘚㜡䆞㡓䊣㢶 䡼䤹 䤹䪀䡼䤹㿀 “䒪䭛䉧 䅩䡼䨰㿀”
“䌂䲜䪀䆞䊣㡄䡼䅩㡓䊣 䅩䡼䨰㮢” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䲜䭛䨰䨰䊣䲜䤹䊣㢶㿀 “䞳䪀䆞䲜䪀 䆞㘚 䅩䊣䤹䤹䊣䨰 䤹䪀䡼㷧 䡼㷧 䡼㘚㿴䆞䨰䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧䡼㡓 䅩䡼䨰 㷧䭛䅩䭛㢶㾳 㜡䊣䊣䤹㘚㿀”
㿴䨰㡓㜡䊣䡼㘚䅩㾳䶇
䊣䱏䊣䨰䪀
䪀䊣䉧㡓䆞
㷧䡼㢶
㾳䅩䡼㡓㿀䆞䆞䤹䆞㡓
䊣䊣䆞䤹䅩㷧㽑
䊣㘚㿴䡼䶇
䡼䤹䭛䶇䅩
䭛䲜䤹㘚
䲜䭛䲜䶇䡼㷧㡓㡓㘚䡼䤹䆞
䶇㷧㘚㢶䭛
䤹䪀䊣
䊣䡼㜡㞃
䤹䶇㝜㘚
䉧䤹䆞䪀
䭛㡓䉧㢶䶇
㜡䆞䪀
䲜䭛䆞㽑㷧䨰䘺
䨰䘺䊣䤹㷧䡼㘚㜡䶇
㽑㘚㡓䪀䆞㜡䊣
㷧䤹䭛
䤹䤹䪀䡼
䭛䤹
䆞㷧㾏㡄䊣㡓
䆞䉧䊣䡼㮢䤹㢶
㷧䊣䤹䤹䡼㡓䆞䭛㿴
䨰䡼㷧
䊣䊣㡓䲜䆞㷧㘚
䡼䰈㜡
䡼
䡼䉧㘚
㡄㘚䊣䨰䶇㘚
㡓䆞㽑㡓
䨰㜡䊣䭛
㢶㘚㿴䊣䡼䊣䤹䨰䊣㿀
“䱏䡼㡓㞃 䤹䭛 㭭䭛䡼䪀 䡼㷧㢶 䰈䭛㿴䪀䆞䊣㮢” 䰈䡼㜡 㘚䡼䆞㢶 㽑䆞㷧䡼㡓㡓㾳㿀 “㲞㽑 䤹䪀䊣㾳’䨰䊣 䭛㷧 䅩䭛䡼䨰㢶㮢 㲞’㡓㡓 䪀䡼㷧㢶㡓䊣 䤹䪀䊣 㡓䭛䘺䆞㘚䤹䆞䲜㘚 䡼㷧㢶 䅩䶇㢶䘺䊣䤹㿀 䥺䶇䤹 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䆞㘚 㾳䭛䶇䨰 㿴䨰䭛㝜䊣䲜䤹㮢 䉧䪀䆞䲜䪀 㜡䊣䡼㷧㘚 䆞㽑 䆞䤹 䘺䭛䊣㘚 㘚䆞㢶䊣䉧䡼㾳㘚㮢 䆞䤹’㘚 㾳䭛䶇䨰 㿴䨰䭛䅩㡓䊣㜡 䤹䭛 㽑䆞㷥㿀”
“䨚䊣䡼㡓㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䉧䡼㘚 䡼㡓䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䪀䡼㡓㽑䉧䡼㾳 䤹䭛 䤹䪀䊣 㢶䭛䭛䨰㿀 “㴖䭛䶇 䉧䭛㷧’䤹 䨰䊣䘺䨰䊣䤹 䤹䪀䆞㘚㿀”
䆞䤹”㿀
㜡㲞”‘
䡼㢶䊣㡓䨰㾳䡼
䤹䘺䨰䊣䘺㷧䆞䨰䊣䤹
㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䤹䭛䭛㞃 䤹䪀䊣 㘚䤹䡼䆞䨰㘚 㢶䭛䉧㷧 䤹䉧䭛 䡼䤹 䡼 䤹䆞㜡䊣㮢 㜡䭛㜡䊣㷧䤹䶇㜡 䲜䡼䨰䨰㾳䆞㷧䘺 䪀䆞㜡 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䤹䨰䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺 䉧䆞㷧䘺 䉧䪀䊣䨰䊣 㭭䭛䡼䪀 䶇㘚䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳 䉧䡼㘚 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䤹䆞㜡䊣 䭛㽑 㢶䡼㾳㿀 䙦㷥䲜䊣㿴䤹 䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚㷧’䤹 䆞㷧 䤹䪀䊣 䤹䨰䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺 䉧䆞㷧䘺㿀 䧼䨰 䤹䪀䊣 䊣㭙䶇䆞㿴㜡䊣㷧䤹 䨰䭛䭛㜡㿀 䧼䨰 䤹䪀䊣 䤹䡼䲜䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓 㿴㡓䡼㷧㷧䆞㷧䘺 䡼䨰䊣䡼㿀
㔧䊣 㽑䆞㷧䡼㡓㡓㾳 㽑䭛䶇㷧㢶 㭭䭛䡼䪀 䆞㷧 䭛㷧䊣 䭛㽑 䤹䪀䊣 㘚㜡䡼㡓㡓䊣䨰 䲜䭛㷧㽑䊣䨰䊣㷧䲜䊣 䨰䭛䭛㜡㘚㮢 㘚䶇䨰䨰䭛䶇㷧㢶䊣㢶 䅩㾳 䪀䭛㡓䭛䘺䨰䡼㿴䪀䆞䲜 㢶䆞㘚㿴㡓䡼㾳㘚 㘚䪀䭛䉧䆞㷧䘺 䉧䪀䡼䤹 㡓䭛䭛㞃䊣㢶 㡓䆞㞃䊣 䲜䭛㜡䅩䡼䤹 㽑䭛䭛䤹䡼䘺䊣 㽑䨰䭛㜡 㜡䶇㡓䤹䆞㿴㡓䊣 䡼㷧䘺㡓䊣㘚㿀 㭭䭛䡼䪀’㘚 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 䉧䡼㘚 㽑䭛䲜䶇㘚䊣㢶 䅩䶇䤹 㷧䭛䤹 䤹䊣㷧㘚䊣㿀 䌂㷧䡼㡓㾳䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓 䨰䡼䤹䪀䊣䨰 䤹䪀䡼㷧 㘚䤹䨰䊣㘚㘚䊣㢶㿀
䊣㡓㷧㾏㡄䆞
㷧䭛
䤹䪀䊣
“䤹䭛㻮
䡼
䊣䭛㞃㢶㞃㷧䲜
䰵䤹䊣䶇㷧”䆞㜡
䨰䭛䭛䊣㿀㢶䡼㽑㜡䨰
㭭䭛䡼䪀 㡓䭛䭛㞃䊣㢶 䶇㿴㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㢶䆞㘚㿴㡓䡼㾳㘚 㜡䆞㷧䆞㜡䆞㽌䊣㢶 䉧䆞䤹䪀 䡼 䘺䊣㘚䤹䶇䨰䊣㿀 “䰈䶇䨰䊣㿀 㔧䭛䉧’㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛㷧䤹䨰䡼䲜䤹 䘺䭛䰵”
“㻮䭛㡓䊣㜡’㘚 㢶䊣䡼㢶㮢 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚 䡼䨰䊣 䡼㡓䆞㡄䊣㮢 㜡㾳 㽑䡼䆞䤹䪀 䆞㷧 㾏㟗䧼㥡䙦’㘚 㘚䤹䨰䶇䲜䤹䶇䨰䡼㡓 䆞㷧䤹䊣䘺䨰䆞䤹㾳 䪀䡼㘚 䅩䊣䊣㷧 䤹䪀䭛䨰䭛䶇䘺䪀㡓㾳 㡄䡼㡓䆞㢶䡼䤹䊣㢶㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㢶䨰䭛㿴㿴䊣㢶 䆞㷧䤹䭛 䭛㷧䊣 䭛㽑 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䪀䡼䆞䨰㘚 䡼䲜䨰䭛㘚㘚 㽑䨰䭛㜡 㭭䭛䡼䪀㿀 “䌂㡓㘚䭛㮢 㲞 䤹䪀䆞㷧㞃 㲞’㡄䊣 㽑䆞䘺䶇䨰䊣㢶 䭛䶇䤹 䉧䪀䡼䤹 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䨰䊣㘚䭛㷧䡼㷧䲜䊣 䲜䡼㷧㷧䭛㷧 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 䆞㷧㘚䤹䡼㡓㡓䊣㢶 䡼䲜䤹䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳 㢶䭛䊣㘚㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䡼㷧㘚䉧䊣䨰 䆞㘚 ‘䊣㡄䊣䨰㾳䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 㲞 㷧䊣䊣㢶䊣㢶 䆞䤹 䤹䭛 㢶䭛 䡼㷧㢶 㿴䨰䭛䅩䡼䅩㡓㾳 㘚䭛㜡䊣 䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺㘚 㲞 㢶䆞㢶㷧’䤹 㞃㷧䭛䉧 㲞 㷧䊣䊣㢶䊣㢶㿀’ 䰈䪀䊣’㘚 䡼 䘺䊣㷧䆞䶇㘚㿀”
‘䰈㢶䊣”䪀
䅩䊣
䊣䡼䨰䪀
“㿀䤹䪀䡼䤹
㢶䊣㿴㘚䊣䡼㡓
䤹䭛
“㲞 㘚䪀䭛䶇㡓㢶 䤹䊣㡓㡓 䪀䊣䨰㿀 䌂䲜䤹䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳㮢 㘚㿴䊣䡼㞃䆞㷧䘺 䭛㽑 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼㮢 䤹䪀䡼䤹’㘚 䤹䡼㷧䘺䊣㷧䤹䆞䡼㡓㡓㾳 䨰䊣㡓䡼䤹䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䉧䪀㾳 㲞’㜡 䪀䊣䨰䊣㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䲜䡼䶇䘺䪀䤹 䪀䆞㜡㘚䊣㡓㽑 䅩䊣㽑䭛䨰䊣 䪀䊣 䲜䭛䶇㡓㢶 㘚㿴䆞䨰䡼㡓 䆞㷧䤹䭛 䤹䊣䲜䪀㷧䆞䲜䡼㡓 㘚㿴䊣䲜䆞㽑䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 䉧䊣䡼㿴䭛㷧 㘚㾳㘚䤹䊣㜡㘚㿀 “䞳䊣 㘚䪀䭛䶇㡓㢶 䤹䪀䨰䭛䉧 䡼 㿴䡼䨰䤹㾳㿀”
㭭䭛䡼䪀’㘚 䊣㾳䊣䅩䨰䭛䉧㘚 䨰䭛㘚䊣 㘚㡓䆞䘺䪀䤹㡓㾳㿀 “䌂 㿴䡼䨰䤹㾳㿀”
䡼䉧䡼䊣䨰
㞃䤹䡼䆞㡓㷧䘺
䊣䨰㡄䆞㘚䤹䆞䲜䭛
㿀䡼㔨㾳䤹䨰
㜡䊣䡼䆞㜡䤹䆞㢶䊣
㢶䭛䭛㽑
䡼䉧㘚
䭛䆞䪀䤹䉧䤹䶇
㜡䨰㽑䭛
䤹䡼㽑㘚
䅩䊣䡼㘚㡄䊣䊣䨰䘺
䉧䨰䊣䪀䊣
䤹䨰䶇㘚䨰䊣䆞䲜
䡼䨰䊣㢶㜡㽑
㘚䭛㿴䅩㘚㡓㾳䆞
䆞㿴䆞䊣䤹㘚㡄䭛
䉧䡼㘚
㡓䭛䉧
䆞䘺䤹䨰䘺䡼䊣㷧䪀
㡓㿴䨰䊣䆞”㿀
䊣䪀
㷧䡼㢶
䡼”䡼䶇㜡䨰㿀䤹
䪀䤹䊣
䆞㷧㽑䊣䨰䡼䶇䘺䤹
䆞䊣䭛䲜㿀㜡䊣䊣㷧㷧㽑䨰䨰䤹
䨰䭛”㥡䡼䊣㡓
䭛䊣㷧㞃䲜㢶䡼䊣䉧䘺㡓
䭛䭛䤹
䲜䊣䤹䤹䭛㷥㷧
㽑䭛
䊣㷧㢶䊣
䤹㽑䨰䡼䊣
䭛䤹
䪀䆞䤹䭛䉧䤹䶇
䉧㭭䊣
䡼䘺㷧䆞㿀䡼
㡄㾏㷧㡓䆞䊣
䊣㿴䭛㡓䊣㿴
䡼
䪀䊣䤹
䆞䤹
㷧䊣㢶䊣㘚
䆞㘚
㷧䘺䅩䆞䊣
䤹䨰䨰䭛䪀㷧㷧䊣
䨰㜡䭛䲜䊣䊣㘚㘚㿴㢶
䡼㘚䡼䨰䊣䶇㡓㾳䅩㜡
䲜䊣䡼㷧䲜䪀
䭛䲜䆞䡼䰈㡓
㿀䲜䡼㾳䆞䆞䤹㡓㽑
㷧䊣䨰䙦㡄䊣㾳䭛
㘚䡼
䭛䨰䨰䊣㡄䊣䲜㾳
㘚”㴖䊣㿀
䅩䨰㺵䭛䊣䡼㿀䆞㡓䊣䤹㷧
䊣䤹䊣䨰䲜㷧
㡓䨰㜡䭛䡼䤹
㭭䭛䡼䪀 䉧䡼㘚 㭙䶇䆞䊣䤹 㽑䭛䨰 䡼 㜡䭛㜡䊣㷧䤹㮢 䡼㷧㢶 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䨰䊣䲜䭛䘺㷧䆞㽌䊣㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧㿀 㭭䭛䤹 㢶䆞㘚䡼䘺䨰䊣䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹㮢 㝜䶇㘚䤹 㿴䨰䭛䲜䊣㘚㘚䆞㷧䘺㿀
“䰈䡼㜡 䡼㿴㿴䨰䭛㡄䊣㢶 䆞䤹䰵” 㭭䭛䡼䪀 䡼㘚㞃䊣㢶㿀
㽑䭛㮢㽑
㢶”䡼㾳䆞䆞䤹㷧㺵䭛䭛㡓㷧㡓㿀
㡓㢶䡼㷧䊣䪀
䡼㷧㢶
㡓㡓’䊣䪀
㾳䭛䶇
䆞㘚”䘺䆞䲜䤹㡓㿀㘚䭛
䰈䡼䆞㢶
䆞䰈㿴䊣䪀䭛
㽑䆞
䆞㷧㘚䘺
“䰈䭛㿴䪀䆞䊣’㘚 䘺䭛䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 䪀䡼㡄䊣 䭛㿴䆞㷧䆞䭛㷧㘚 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 㘚䊣䲜䶇䨰䆞䤹㾳 㿴䨰䭛䤹䭛䲜䭛㡓㘚㿀”
“䰈䭛㿴䪀䆞䊣 䪀䡼㘚 䭛㿴䆞㷧䆞䭛㷧㘚 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 䊣㡄䊣䨰㾳䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺㿀 䱏䪀䡼䤹’㘚 䉧䪀㾳 䉧䊣 㞃䊣䊣㿴 䪀䊣䨰 䡼䨰䭛䶇㷧㢶㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㡓䊣䡼㷧䊣㢶 㽑䭛䨰䉧䡼䨰㢶㿀 “䥺䶇䤹 㘚䊣䨰䆞䭛䶇㘚㡓㾳㮢 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䆞㘚 䘺䭛䭛㢶 㽑䭛䨰 䤹䪀䊣 㽑䡼䲜䤹䆞䭛㷧㿀 㔨䊣䭛㿴㡓䊣 㷧䊣䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䨰䊣㜡䊣㜡䅩䊣䨰 䉧䪀㾳 䤹䪀䊣㾳 㝜䭛䆞㷧䊣㢶㿀 㭭䭛䤹 㝜䶇㘚䤹 䤹䪀䊣 㜡䆞㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 㘚䤹䡼䤹䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹 䭛䨰 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛㜡䅩䡼䤹 䲜䡼㿴䡼䅩䆞㡓䆞䤹㾳㮢 䅩䶇䤹 䤹䪀䊣 䡼䲜䤹䶇䡼㡓 䲜䭛㜡㜡䶇㷧䆞䤹㾳 㿴䡼䨰䤹㿀 䱏䪀䡼䤹 䉧䊣’䨰䊣 䅩䶇䆞㡓㢶䆞㷧䘺 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䉧䭛䨰䤹䪀 䅩䊣䆞㷧䘺 㿴䡼䨰䤹 䭛㽑㿀”
䪀䉧䆞䤹
䭛㷧㢶㢶㢶䊣
㡓䡼㞃䱏
䤹䪀䊣
䤹䆞㿀
䆞㿴䊣䭛㮢䰈䪀
䪀䤹䆞䉧
䭛㢶
䊣䡼㘚”㡓㢶䆞㿀䤹
䡼䰈㜡
䊣䤹’㘚䒪
䤹㮢䆞
䭛㡓㾳㿀㡓㘚䉧
䪀㭭䭛䡼
䭛㢶䘺䭛
㞃䊣㜡䡼
㘚䨰䊣䶇
䭛䤹
䊣䤹㷧䪀
㢶䊣䡼㷧䲜䤹䭛䆞䭛䨰
䭛㷧
䊣㘚䪀㘚’
“㿀䪀䌂㡓䘺䤹䨰䆞
“㴖䊣㘚䖊” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㘚䤹䭛䭛㢶 䶇㿴㮢 䤹䪀䊣㷧 䆞㜡㜡䊣㢶䆞䡼䤹䊣㡓㾳 㘚䡼䤹 䅩䡼䲜㞃 㢶䭛䉧㷧㿀 “䌂㡓㘚䭛㮢 䲜䭛㜡㿴㡓䊣䤹䊣㡓㾳 䶇㷧䨰䊣㡓䡼䤹䊣㢶 㭙䶇䊣㘚䤹䆞䭛㷧㿀 㲞㽑 㾳䭛䶇 䉧䡼㷧䤹䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䡼㘚㞃 㘚䭛㜡䊣䭛㷧䊣 䤹䭛 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㮢 䅩䶇䤹 㾳䭛䶇 㢶䆞㢶㷧’䤹 䉧䡼㷧䤹 䆞䤹 䤹䭛 䅩䊣 䉧䊣䆞䨰㢶㮢 䪀䭛䉧 䉧䭛䶇㡓㢶 㾳䭛䶇 㿴䪀䨰䡼㘚䊣 䤹䪀䡼䤹䰵”
㭭䭛䡼䪀’㘚 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 㘚䪀䆞㽑䤹䊣㢶 䤹䭛 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㜡䆞䘺䪀䤹 䪀䡼㡄䊣 䅩䊣䊣㷧 䡼㜡䶇㘚䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹㿀 “䌂䨰䊣 䉧䊣 䤹䡼㡓㞃䆞㷧䘺 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼䰵”
䭛䉧䶇㢶㡓
䡼䅩䶇䭛䤹
㷧䤹㞃䡼㡓䆞䘺
㾳”䪀䞳
“䰵䨚㷧䡼䡼䆞
㾳䭛䶇
㘚㘚䶇䊣㜡䡼
䨰䊣䉧䊣’
“䥺䊣䲜䡼䶇㘚䊣 㾳䭛䶇 㝜䶇㘚䤹 㘚㿴䊣㷧䤹 䤹䪀䆞䨰䤹㾳 㘚䊣䲜䭛㷧㢶㘚 䊣㷥㿴㡓䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺 䪀䭛䉧 㘚䪀䊣’㘚 䡼 䘺䊣㷧䆞䶇㘚 䡼㷧㢶 㾳䭛䶇 㘚䪀䭛䶇㡓㢶 䤹䊣㡓㡓 䪀䊣䨰 䤹䪀䡼䤹㮢 䡼㷧㢶 㷧䭛䉧 㾳䭛䶇’䨰䊣 䡼㘚㞃䆞㷧䘺 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 䡼㘚㞃䆞㷧䘺 㘚䭛㜡䊣䭛㷧䊣 䤹䭛 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㿀”
㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䭛㿴䊣㷧䊣㢶 䪀䆞㘚 㜡䭛䶇䤹䪀㿀 㺵㡓䭛㘚䊣㢶 䆞䤹㿀 䱏䨰䆞䊣㢶 䡼䘺䡼䆞㷧㿀 “䱏䪀䡼䤹’㘚 䲜䆞䨰䲜䶇㜡㘚䤹䡼㷧䤹䆞䡼㡓 䊣㡄䆞㢶䊣㷧䲜䊣 䡼䤹 䅩䊣㘚䤹㿀”
㡓㘚䭛䆞㢶
㿴䊣㾳䤹䨰䤹
㲞”‘㘚䤹
䊣䆞㡄䲜㷧䊣䊣㢶㿀”
“㡾䆞㷧䊣㿀 㴖䊣㘚㿀 㔧㾳㿴䭛䤹䪀䊣䤹䆞䲜䡼㡓㡓㾳㿀 㲞㽑 㲞 䉧䡼㷧䤹䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䡼㘚㞃 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 䤹䭛 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㿀 䌂㘚 䡼 㷧䭛䤹䇻㢶䡼䤹䊣 䅩䶇䤹 㿴䭛䤹䊣㷧䤹䆞䡼㡓㡓㾳 㢶䡼䤹䊣䇻䡼㢶㝜䡼䲜䊣㷧䤹 㘚䭛䲜䆞䡼㡓 䊣㷧䘺䡼䘺䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䡼䲜㞃㷧䭛䉧㡓䊣㢶䘺䊣㘚 㜡䶇䤹䶇䡼㡓 䨰䊣㘚㿴䊣䲜䤹 䡼㷧㢶 㿴䭛㘚㘚䆞䅩㡓㾳 㘚䭛㜡䊣 䡼㜡䭛䶇㷧䤹 䭛㽑 㿴䊣䨰㘚䭛㷧䡼㡓 䆞㷧䤹䊣䨰䊣㘚䤹 䉧䆞䤹䪀䭛䶇䤹 䲜䨰䊣䡼䤹䆞㷧䘺 䶇㷧䲜䭛㜡㽑䭛䨰䤹䡼䅩㡓䊣 䊣㷥㿴䊣䲜䤹䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䨰䊣䡼㡓䆞㽌䊣㢶 䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚 䘺䊣㘚䤹䶇䨰䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛䭛 㜡䶇䲜䪀 䡼㷧㢶 㽑䭛䨰䲜䊣㢶 䪀䆞㘚 䪀䡼㷧㢶㘚 㘚䤹䆞㡓㡓㿀 “㔧䭛䉧 䉧䭛䶇㡓㢶 䭛㷧䊣 㿴䪀䨰䡼㘚䊣 䤹䪀䡼䤹䰵”
㭭䭛䡼䪀 䡼䲜䤹䶇䡼㡓㡓㾳 㘚㜡䆞㡓䊣㢶㿀 “㿗䶇㘚䤹 䡼㘚㞃 䪀䊣䨰 䆞㽑 㘚䪀䊣 䉧䡼㷧䤹㘚 䤹䭛 䘺䊣䤹 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㿀 䨚䭛㷧’䤹 䭛㡄䊣䨰䤹䪀䆞㷧㞃 䆞䤹㿀”
“䥺䶇䤹
䪀䊣㘚
䆞䪀㷧䤹㞃㘚
㷧䨰㘚㢶䊣”㽑䰵䆞
䡼㘚
䪀䡼䤹䉧
䊣㷧㜡䡼
㲞
㽑䆞
“䱏䪀䊣㷧 䲜㡓䡼䨰䆞㽑㾳 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㾳䭛䶇 㢶䭛㷧’䤹 㜡䊣䡼㷧 䡼㘚 㽑䨰䆞䊣㷧㢶㘚㿀”
“䥺䶇䤹 䉧䪀䡼䤹 䆞㽑 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㜡䡼㞃䊣㘚 䆞䤹 䉧䊣䆞䨰㢶䰵”
㿴䶇㮢
䭛㾳䶇
㲞䤹”㘚’
䡼㭭䭛䪀
䆞䉧䨰䊣㢶
䅩䡼䶇䭛䤹
䭛䪀䤹䊣㘚㷧
䭛䤹
䭛䭛䨰㢶㿀
㿀”䭛㷧
䥺䊣
㷧䨰䊣㢶䆞㿀㷧
䭛㴖䊣䨰䶇’
䤹䆞
㘚䤹䭛㢶䭛
䡼㘚㾳
䭛㷧㿀”䉧
䆞㷧䊣䘺䡼㢶䪀
㘚䪀䊣
䉧㿀㢶䊣䨰䆞
䪀䤹䊣
㿀㷧䡼㜡䊣
䊣䪀䱏
㷧䲜䡼
䊣䪀䨰
“䌂㘚㞃
䆞㜡䘺㷧䡼㞃
䆞䤹䘺䪀䨰
䪀䉧䤹䡼
䊣㡓䡼㢶㾳䨰䡼
䨰䭛䉧䤹㘚
㽑䭛䨰
㘚䆞
㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㘚䡼䤹 䤹䪀䊣䨰䊣 㽑䭛䨰 䡼 㜡䭛㜡䊣㷧䤹 䡼㽑䤹䊣䨰 㭭䭛䡼䪀 㡓䊣㽑䤹㮢 䤹䨰㾳䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛 㿴䨰䭛䲜䊣㘚㘚 䤹䪀䡼䤹 䡼㢶㡄䆞䲜䊣 䆞㷧䤹䭛 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䡼䲜䤹䆞䭛㷧䡼䅩㡓䊣㿀 㿗䶇㘚䤹 䡼㘚㞃㿀 䥺䊣 䪀䭛㷧䊣㘚䤹㿀 䨚䭛㷧’䤹 㜡䡼㞃䊣 䆞䤹 䉧䊣䆞䨰㢶 䅩㾳 䤹䨰㾳䆞㷧䘺 㷧䭛䤹 䤹䭛 㜡䡼㞃䊣 䆞䤹 䉧䊣䆞䨰㢶㿀
㔧䊣 䲜䭛䶇㡓㢶 㢶䭛 䤹䪀䡼䤹㿀 㔨䨰䭛䅩䡼䅩㡓㾳㿀 㥡䡼㾳䅩䊣㿀
㘚䨰䡼䤹䤹㢶䊣
䶇㿴㮢
䡼㡓䉧㞃䊣㢶
䪀䊣䤹
㷧䆞
䪀㡓䉧䊣䆞
䭛㽑
㡓䭛㘚䊣㿴䆞㘚䅩
䲜䭛䨰㷧㽑䊣䊣䊣䲜㷧
䊣㔧
䆞䊣䪀䊣䡼䨰䨰㘚㷧䘺
䘺㷧䆞㘚䡼䨰䪀㘚㿴
䡼䊣䪀㢶
䨰䭛㮢䭛㜡
㢶䘺䡼䪀䊣㷧䆞
㘚㞃䪀䨰䭛䉧㿀㿴䭛
㢶䤹㾳䡼䊣㜡䊣㡓㜡䆞䆞
䪀㘚䆞
㢶䭛䤹䭛㘚
䭛䶇䤹
㷧䡼㢶
䤹䪀䊣
䨰䡼䤹䉧䭛㢶
䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 䉧䭛䶇㡓㢶 䅩䊣 䤹䪀䊣䨰䊣㿀 䰈䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚 䡼㡓䉧䡼㾳㘚 䤹䪀䊣䨰䊣 䉧䪀䊣㷧 㘚䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚㷧’䤹 䡼䲜䤹䆞㡄䊣㡓㾳 䭛㷧 䡼 㜡䆞㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 䭛䨰 䤹䨰䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺 䨰䊣䲜䨰䶇䆞䤹㘚㿀 䱏䪀䊣 䉧䭛䨰㞃㘚䪀䭛㿴 䪀䡼㢶 䅩䊣䲜䭛㜡䊣 䡼㘚 㜡䶇䲜䪀 䪀䊣䨰 㘚㿴䡼䲜䊣 䡼㘚 䪀䆞㘚 䭛㡄䊣䨰 䤹䪀䊣 㿴䡼㘚䤹 㽑䊣䉧 䉧䊣䊣㞃㘚㮢 䊣㘚㿴䊣䲜䆞䡼㡓㡓㾳 䡼㽑䤹䊣䨰 㘚䪀䊣’㢶 㘚㿴䊣㷧䤹 䤹䪀䨰䊣䊣 㢶䡼㾳㘚 䆞㷧㘚䤹䡼㡓㡓䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䊣 䨰䊣㘚䭛㷧䡼㷧䲜䊣 䲜䡼㷧㷧䭛㷧 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣㷧 䡼㷧䭛䤹䪀䊣䨰 䤹䉧䭛 㢶䡼㾳㘚 䊣㷥㿴㡓䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䊣 䤹䊣䲜䪀㷧䆞䲜䡼㡓 㘚㿴䊣䲜䆞㽑䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚 䆞㷧 㢶䊣䤹䡼䆞㡓 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㜡䡼㢶䊣 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 㘚㡓䆞䘺䪀䤹㡓㾳 䡼䨰䭛䶇㘚䊣㢶 䆞㷧 䉧䡼㾳㘚 䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚㷧’䤹 䨰䊣䡼㢶㾳 䤹䭛 䊣㷥䡼㜡䆞㷧䊣㿀
䱏䪀䊣 䉧䭛䨰㞃㘚䪀䭛㿴 㢶䭛䭛䨰 䉧䡼㘚 䭛㿴䊣㷧㿀 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 㘚䤹䭛䭛㢶 䡼䤹 䭛㷧䊣 䭛㽑 䤹䪀䊣 䉧䭛䨰㞃䅩䊣㷧䲜䪀䊣㘚㮢 䪀䊣䨰 䅩䡼䲜㞃 䤹䭛 䪀䆞㜡㮢 㢶䭛䆞㷧䘺 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䉧䆞䤹䪀 䉧䪀䡼䤹 㡓䭛䭛㞃䊣㢶 㡓䆞㞃䊣 㿴䭛䉧䊣䨰 䲜䭛䶇㿴㡓䆞㷧䘺 㜡䭛㢶䆞㽑䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚 㽑䭛䨰 㾏㟗䧼㥡䙦’㘚 㡓䊣㽑䤹 䡼䨰㜡 䡼䲜䤹䶇䡼䤹䭛䨰㿀
䡼䨰䊣䡼䉧
㘚䘺㷧䡼䨰㘚䆞䪀㿴
䤹㘚䭛㿴䊣㿴㢶
㢶䭛㾳䭛䨰㮢䉧䡼
䊣䊣㿀㾳㡓㿴㜡㡓䭛䲜䤹
㡓㾏䆞㷧㡄䊣
䡼䭛䤹䡼䨰㿴䊣㡄䊣㢶
㷧䆞
㘚㾳㢶䶇䊣㡓㢶㷧
䊣䤹䪀
㡓㡓䡼
䪀䡼㢶
䪀䤹䡼䤹
䪀䊣㢶䊣䡼䨰䨰䊣㘚
䆞䪀㘚
䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 䤹䶇䨰㷧䊣㢶 䡼䨰䭛䶇㷧㢶㮢 䪀䭛㡓㢶䆞㷧䘺 䡼 䉧䨰䊣㷧䲜䪀㿀 “㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧㿀 㻮䭛䭛㢶 䤹䆞㜡䆞㷧䘺㿀 㲞 䉧䡼㷧䤹䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䘺䊣䤹 㾳䭛䶇䨰 㽑䊣䊣㢶䅩䡼䲜㞃 䭛㷧 䤹䪀䊣㘚䊣 㜡䭛㢶䆞㽑䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧㘚 䅩䊣㽑䭛䨰䊣 䆞㜡㿴㡓䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䊣㜡㿀”
“䱏䪀䊣 䨰䊣㘚䭛㷧䡼㷧䲜䊣 䲜䡼㷧㷧䭛㷧 㘚䡼㡄䊣㢶 㜡㾳 㡓䆞㽑䊣 䤹䭛㢶䡼㾳㮢” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䅩㡓䶇䨰䤹䊣㢶 䭛䶇䤹㿀
䆞䤹
䭛”㻮㢶䭛㿀
䭛䤹
㷧䊣㢶㘚㢶䘺䊣䆞
䉧䤹䪀䡼
䊣㿀䆞䅩㢶㷧㞃㡓
㿀䭛”㢶
䉧䡼㘚
䤹㘚’䪀䡼䱏
䆞㷧䡼䨚䡼
“㭭䭛㮢 㲞 㜡䊣䡼㷧㿀 㲞䤹 䉧䡼㘚 䆞㷧䲜䨰䊣㢶䆞䅩㡓䊣㿀 䌂 䘺䭛㡓䊣㜡 䪀䡼㢶 㜡䊣 㿴䆞㷧㷧䊣㢶㮢 䨰䊣䘺䊣㷧䊣䨰䡼䤹䆞㷧䘺 㽑䡼㘚䤹䊣䨰 䤹䪀䡼㷧 㲞 䲜䭛䶇㡓㢶 㢶䡼㜡䡼䘺䊣 䆞䤹㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䡼㷧㷧䭛㷧 㝜䶇㘚䤹 㢶䆞㘚䆞㷧䤹䊣䘺䨰䡼䤹䊣㢶 䤹䪀䊣 䲜䭛䨰䊣 㘚䤹䨰䶇䲜䤹䶇䨰䊣 䊣㷧䤹䆞䨰䊣㡓㾳㿀 㔨䊣䨰㽑䊣䲜䤹 䡼㿴㿴㡓䆞䲜䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧 䭛㽑 㡄䆞䅩䨰䡼䤹䆞䭛㷧䡼㡓 㽑䨰䊣㭙䶇䊣㷧䲜㾳 䤹䡼䨰䘺䊣䤹䆞㷧䘺㿀” 㔧䊣 䉧䡼㘚 䅩䡼䅩䅩㡓䆞㷧䘺 㷧䭛䉧㮢 䲜䭛䶇㡓㢶㷧’䤹 㘚䤹䭛㿴㿀 “㴖䭛䶇 䉧䊣䨰䊣 䨰䆞䘺䪀䤹 䡼䅩䭛䶇䤹 䤹䪀䊣 㿴䭛䉧䊣䨰 䨰䊣㭙䶇䆞䨰䊣㜡䊣㷧䤹㘚㿀 䱏䪀䊣 㢶䨰䡼䘺䭛㷧 㽑䶇㘚䆞䭛㷧 䲜䭛䨰䊣 䪀䡼㷧㢶㡓䊣㢶 䆞䤹 䉧䆞䤹䪀䭛䶇䤹 䊣㡄䊣㷧 㘚䤹䨰䡼䆞㷧䆞㷧䘺㿀 䱏䪀䊣 䉧䪀䭛㡓䊣 㘚㾳㘚䤹䊣㜡 㿴䊣䨰㽑䭛䨰㜡䊣㢶 䊣㷥䡼䲜䤹㡓㾳 䡼㘚 㘚㿴䊣䲜䆞㽑䆞䊣㢶㿀”
“㲞 㞃㷧䭛䉧㿀” 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 㘚䊣䤹 㢶䭛䉧㷧 䤹䪀䊣 䉧䨰䊣㷧䲜䪀㮢 䘺䆞㡄䆞㷧䘺 䪀䆞㜡 䪀䊣䨰 㽑䶇㡓㡓 䡼䤹䤹䊣㷧䤹䆞䭛㷧㿀 “㲞 㢶䊣㘚䆞䘺㷧䊣㢶 䆞䤹㿀”
䆞㿀”䤹䘺㟗䪀
䭛䨚”
㘚䶇䧼䅩㿀㾳”㡄㡓䭛䆞
䭛䤹㞃䭛
䡼
䭛䤹
䡼䤹㷧䉧
䭛㾳䶇
䊣䘺䤹
䅩䨰䤹㿀䡼䊣䪀
㘚䊣㿀㴖
䨰䰵䆞䊣㢶㷧㷧”
䊣㷧㾏䆞㡓㡄
䱏䪀䊣 㭙䶇䊣㘚䤹䆞䭛㷧 䪀䶇㷧䘺 䆞㷧 䤹䪀䊣 䡼䆞䨰㿀 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼’㘚 䊣㷥㿴䨰䊣㘚㘚䆞䭛㷧 㢶䆞㢶㷧’䤹 䲜䪀䡼㷧䘺䊣㮢 䅩䶇䤹 㘚䭛㜡䊣䤹䪀䆞㷧䘺 䆞㷧 䪀䊣䨰 㿴䭛㘚䤹䶇䨰䊣 㘚䪀䆞㽑䤹䊣㢶 㘚㡓䆞䘺䪀䤹㡓㾳㿀
“䨚䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㮢” 㘚䪀䊣 䨰䊣㿴䊣䡼䤹䊣㢶㿀
䤹䭛㷥䲜䊣㷧䤹
䭛㿴”䪀䭛䉧䨰㿀㞃㘚
㘚䪀䆞䤹
䊣㜡㡓䪀㘚㽑䆞
㴖㿀㘚”䊣
㾳䶇䭛
䭛㽑
䉧䭛䤹
㷧㘚䆞’䤹
䊣䅩
䊣㿴䤹䤹㷧䨰䊣䨰䆞
䭛㡾㿀㢶䭛
㡄㾏䆞㡓䊣㷧
䭛䤹
㘚䶇䤹㿗
㢶䆞㡓䲜㷧䆞㷧䊣
䪀䡼䤹䤹
䪀䤹䡼䤹
䭛㢶䲜䊣㽑䨰
㷧䤹䆞䡼㜡䡼䆞㷧
䊣㾳䊣
䡼
䭛䤹
䆞㽑
䤹䪀䊣
䅩㾳
䪀䘺㜡䆞䤹
㢶䡼䊣㔨䨰㿴䊣䨰
䤹䆞
䉧䊣䨰䊣
㘚䶇㿀
䆞㷧
䊣䊣㡓㘚㿀
㿀䉧䡼㾳”
“䞳䆞䪀䤹
㢶䤹䡼㷧䤹䊣䲜䡼㝜㢶䊣䇻䡼
䪀䤹䤹䡼
㲞㷧
㜡䊣㿀
㢶䆞㢶䲜䊣䭛㷧䊣䨰㘚
䡼
䭛䊣䊣䭛㷧㘚㜡
䭛㢶㺵䶇㘚䊣㷧㜡
㷧䆞䭛䡼䭛䤹䲜㡓
䡼䤹䲜㿀䲜䤹㷧䭛
䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 㘚䤹䶇㢶䆞䊣㢶 䪀䆞㜡 㽑䭛䨰 䡼 㡓䭛㷧䘺 㜡䭛㜡䊣㷧䤹㿀 “䌂䨰䊣 㾳䭛䶇 䡼㘚㞃䆞㷧䘺 㜡䊣 䭛㷧 䡼 㢶䡼䤹䊣䰵”
“㲞’㜡 䡼㘚㞃䆞㷧䘺 䆞㽑 㾳䭛䶇 䉧䡼㷧䤹 䤹䭛 䘺䊣䤹 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䡼䲜㞃㷧䭛䉧㡓䊣㢶䘺䆞㷧䘺 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㲞 䉧䭛䶇㡓㢶 㷧䭛䤹 䅩䊣 䭛㿴㿴䭛㘚䊣㢶 䤹䭛 䤹䪀䡼䤹 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰 䅩䊣䆞㷧䘺 䆞㷧䤹䊣䨰㿴䨰䊣䤹䊣㢶 䡼㘚 䡼 㢶䡼䤹䊣㮢 䉧䪀䆞㡓䊣 䡼㡓㘚䭛 㡓䊣䡼㡄䆞㷧䘺 䨰䭛䭛㜡 㽑䭛䨰 䆞䤹 䤹䭛 㝜䶇㘚䤹 䅩䊣 䤹䉧䭛 䲜䭛㡓㡓䊣䡼䘺䶇䊣㘚 䊣䡼䤹䆞㷧䘺 㽑䭛䭛㢶 䤹䭛䘺䊣䤹䪀䊣䨰 䆞㽑 䤹䪀䡼䤹’㘚 㜡䭛䨰䊣 䲜䭛㜡㽑䭛䨰䤹䡼䅩㡓䊣 㽑䭛䨰 㾳䭛䶇㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䨰䊣䡼㡓䆞㽌䊣㢶 䪀䊣’㢶 㘚䤹䡼䨰䤹䊣㢶 䘺䊣㘚䤹䶇䨰䆞㷧䘺 䡼䘺䡼䆞㷧㿀 “䰈䭛㿀 㴖䊣㘚䰵 㥡䡼㾳䅩䊣䰵 䨚䊣㿴䊣㷧㢶䆞㷧䘺 䭛㷧 㾳䭛䶇䨰 㿴䨰䊣㽑䊣䨰䊣㷧䲜䊣 䨰䊣䘺䡼䨰㢶䆞㷧䘺 㢶䊣㽑䆞㷧䆞䤹䆞䭛㷧䡼㡓 㽑䨰䡼㜡䊣䉧䭛䨰㞃㘚䰵”
㘚䭛䤹㡓䌂㜡
㿴䶇
‘㷧䨚䆞㘚䡼䡼
“㡄䊣㘚㷧䊣㿀
䲜”㔨㞃䆞
䆞㘚㿴㡓
䉧䪀䊣䤹䤹㿀㢶䲜䆞
䤹䡼
㘚䊣㜡㡓㿀䆞
䡼
䊣㜡
“㟗䊣䡼㡓㡓㾳䰵”
“㟗䊣䡼㡓㡓㾳㿀”
䭛㽑
㷧㢶䡼
㢶䡼㷧
䪀䡼㡄䊣
䭛䨰㷧䆞䲜㽑㜡
䭛䭛䆞㘚㿴䤹㷧
䡼䲜䤹䭛䭛㷧䆞㡓
䭛䨰㽑
䊣㷧㘚䆞䨰㡄䤹䭛㘚䊣䡼䨰
㡓’㲞㡓
䊣䡼㞃㜡
㘚䶇䡼䊣㡓䆞䤹䅩
䡼
“䨰䊣㽑䊣䊣㿴㿀䨰㘚䊣㷧䲜
䊣䆞㽑䨰䶇䘺
䶇䤹䭛
䊣㢶䨰䤹㾳䆞䡼
䭛䭛㿀㻮㢶
䭛㽑㢶䭛
䅩䪀䤹䭛
㾳䧼㞃㿀䡼”
㻮䨰䤹㿀䡼䊣
䤹䡼䪀䤹
䤹㾳䊣䪀
䶇䨰䭛
“㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧㿀”
“㴖䊣䡼䪀䰵”
䰈”䭛㿴䤹
䤹㡓䭛㢶
㝜䤹䶇㘚
䊣㜡”㮢
䭛䘺
㷧㢶䡼
㔧䊣
㾳䅩
㞃䘺䡼㷧㡓䆞䤹
㾳䡼䤹㿴䨰
䉧䡼㡓㢶䊣㞃
䡼㡓㿴㷧
䡼㷧㢶
䡼䅩䭛䤹㿀䶇
䭛㾳䶇
䊣䤹䪀
䡼㜡䰈
䭛㡓䤹㢶
“㟗䆞䘺䪀䤹㿀 㴖䊣㘚㿀 㔨䡼䨰䤹㾳㿀 㔨㡓䡼㷧㷧䆞㷧䘺㿀 㲞’㜡 䘺䭛䆞㷧䘺 㷧䭛䉧㿀” 㾏䊣㡓㡄䆞㷧 䅩䡼䲜㞃䊣㢶 䤹䭛䉧䡼䨰㢶 䤹䪀䊣 㢶䭛䭛䨰㮢 㘚䤹䆞㡓㡓 䘺䨰䆞㷧㷧䆞㷧䘺 㡓䆞㞃䊣 䡼㷧 䆞㢶䆞䭛䤹㿀 “䰈䊣㡄䊣㷧 䭛’䲜㡓䭛䲜㞃㿀”
“䰈䊣㡄䊣㷧 䭛’䲜㡓䭛䲜㞃㮢” 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼 䲜䭛㷧㽑䆞䨰㜡䊣㢶㮢 䡼㷧㢶 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䤹䆞㜡䊣 㘚䪀䊣 䉧䡼㘚 㢶䊣㽑䆞㷧䆞䤹䊣㡓㾳 㘚㜡䆞㡓䆞㷧䘺㿀
䤹䆞
䪀䤹䊣
䤹䊣㷧
䪀㡓䡼㾳䉧㡓䡼
䭛㾳䊣䆞㜡㷥㿴䤹䨰㿴䡼䡼㡓
㽑䭛
㽑䶇㿀㾳㡓㡓
䪀㜡䆞
䊣䆞㷧㡓㡄㾏
䪀䊣䡼㿴㿴䊣㷧㢶
䪀䆞䤹
䡼㜡䊣㢶
䊣䊣㽑䤹
䤹䪀䊣
䤹㝜䶇㘚
䤹㡓㾳䨰䊣䡼䆞
䉧䡼䪀䤹
䊣䊣㽑䭛䅩䨰
㢶䉧㷧䭛
㔧䊣 䪀䡼㢶 䡼 㢶䡼䤹䊣㿀 䞳䆞䤹䪀 䨚䆞䡼㷧䡼㿀 䞳䪀䭛’㢶 㘚䡼䆞㢶 㾳䊣㘚㿀 䱏䭛 㢶䆞㷧㷧䊣䨰㿀 䞳䪀䆞䲜䪀 䉧䡼㘚 䪀䡼㿴㿴䊣㷧䆞㷧䘺 䤹䭛㷧䆞䘺䪀䤹㿀
㔧䊣 㷧䊣䊣㢶䊣㢶 䤹䭛 㷧䭛䤹 㘚䲜䨰䊣䉧 䤹䪀䆞㘚 䶇㿴㿀㿀
I’ll upload the krome illustration in the next chapter