Novel Bin
Chapter 96: The Bloodbane Tomb
Chapter 96: The Bloodbane Tomb
The sky was a murky gray, heavy with the weight of an impending storm.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as Emperor Arkanos Bloodbane stood before the entrance of the Bloodbane Tomb, in a set of black and white armor, the final resting place of his ancestors.
The massive stone doors loomed before him, engraved with the names of rulers long dead, their legacies carved into history.
Behind him, his knights stood in formation—Seraphine, his steadfast knight captain, along with Garik, Darian, Kael, Esten, and Laris were present as well.
Their armor gleamed under the dim light filtering through the storm clouds. Some held torches, the flames flickering in the cold wind that howled through the desolate mountainside.
The tomb itself was carved into the heart of an obsidian mountain, flanked by two colossal statues of warriors with swords pointed downward, signifying eternal rest.
Arkanos placed a gloved hand against the cold stone. This place held the weight of centuries, the burden of his bloodline.
"How long has it been since an emperor last stepped foot here?" Kael asked, his voice low.
"Not since Emperor Veltharion Bloodbane's funeral," Darian replied. "Over ten years ago."
A heavy silence followed. No one entered the Bloodbane Tomb unless they had to.
It was sacred ground, meant only for the dead emperors and those who would soon join them.
"Are we truly doing this, Your Majesty?" Seraphine asked, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
"Disturbing the tombs of your ancestors… it feels—"
"Necessary," Arkanos interrupted, his green eyes narrowing.
"This is more than just a graveyard. It's a vault of secrets, and I intend to claim them."
With a motion of his hand, the knights pushed against the ancient doors. They resisted at first, but with a deep groan, the entrance slowly opened, revealing darkness within. A stale, heavy air rushed out, carrying the scent of old stone and decay.
The knights hesitated. Arkanos stepped forward without fear.
Once they all stepped in the heavy silence of the Bloodbane Tomb seemed to swallow them whole as the stone doors groaned shut behind them, sealing the world outside.
"Well… there goes our exit." Kael said with a touch of unease.
Torchlight illuminated towering walls covered in murals depicting the conquests and tragedies of the Bloodbane emperors—men who had shaped the Bloodbane Empire with steel and blood.
Their victories, their wars, their betrayals—this was a history written in blood.
They descended deeper into the tomb, passing rows of massive Burial Chambers.
Each had the likeness of the emperor within, their names etched in ancient red runes that pulsed faintly with residual magic.
The air was thick with the scent of old stone, dust, and something else—something ancient and waiting.
Arkanos strode forward, his boots echoing against the polished obsidian floor. His knights followed, their hands resting lightly on their weapons, their eyes darting over the chamber.
The corridor stretched forward. The red-glowing runes on the Burial Chambers pulsed gently, and tiny voices could be heard speaking a strange language, as if whispering secrets from the past.
Seraphine walked at Arkanos's side, torch in one hand, her other hand on the hilt of her sword. "This place is unsettling," she murmured. "I can feel something... watching."
Darian let out a quiet chuckle, rolling his shoulders. "It's just a tomb, Captain. The dead don't watch. They rest."
"That's what worries me," Kael muttered, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.
Garik, the tallest of the knights, dragged an armoured hand across one of the Burial Chambers, brushing away dust. "Some of these look... fresh."
Esten knelt down, running his fingers over the floor. "Tracks. Old, but not ancient. Something's moved through here in the last few years. Maybe decades."
Arkanos did not break stride. "Then be ready."
They pressed onward, deeper into the tomb. The corridor gradually widened into a vast chamber where towering pillars lined the sides, their surfaces etched with more runes and battle scenes.
The knights spread out instinctively, forming a loose formation, torches casting wild shadows across the floor.
Then, without warning, the air shifted. A low growl echoed through the chamber.
Esten snapped his gaze toward the darkness beyond the torchlight. "Something's here."
From the shadows emerged a couple dozen creatures, each the size of a warhorse.
Their bodies were made of obsidian and crimson energy, vaguely canine in shape but with elongated skulls and jagged fangs.
Their eyes glowed with an intense red light, and as they moved, their claws scraped against the stone, leaving deep gouges.
"Tomb Guardians," Seraphine said calmly as she married her eyes, drawing her sword.
The creatures lunged.
Seraphine was the first to move, sidestepping a clawed strike before twisting her blade upward, slicing across the guardian's throat. The beast recoiled, but its wounds sealed instantly, the red energy knitting it back together.
Garik met another beast head-on, planting his shield against the creature's maw as it snapped forward. He shoved it back, twisting his great sword in a brutal arc, cleaving through its side. Sparks flew as metal met enchanted stone, but his strike shattered part of its body, sending obsidian shards scattering.
Kael twirled his sword, slicing at the third guardian's joints, exploiting weak points. Each strike landed with a satisfying crack, forcing the creature to stumble.
Arkanos moved through with a sudden burst of speed. His hold sword flickered in the dim light, every motion was so precise, every strike lethal.
One guardian lunged at him, but he sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his blade down in a single, clean arc. The moment it struck, the beast's body shattered, its energy dispersing into the air.
The knights paused for a moment, glancing at each other.
Darian let out a short laugh. "That was... easier than I expected."
Esten smirked, kicking aside a pile of shattered obsidian. "Either we've gotten stronger, or these things aren't what they used to be in the legends."
Seraphine wiped her blade clean, exhaling. "We're not here to admire ourselves. Keep moving."
The tomb grew more labyrinthine as they advanced. Sliding stone doors rumbled open as they approached, revealing chambers filled with the resting places of past emperors.
Some coffins were etched with intricate carvings, others with weapons laid atop their lids. The history of the empire was entombed here, each resting place a story of conquest, betrayal, and glory.
As they stepped into a particularly grand hall, they halted. At its center, embedded in an altar of black stone, was a sword unlike any they had ever seen.
The blade was long and jagged, black as the void itself, with strange symbols etched into its surface. The hilt was wrapped in ancient leather, decayed with time, and the air around it crackled with a strange force as time red lighting particles rippled with force.
Arkanos narrowed his eyes. He could feel a curse radiating from it.
"No one touch it," he said sharply to the knights.
Laris, the most curious among them, took a step closer, peering at the inscriptions. "This... this might be the De'Kaldel Sword."
Darian stiffened. "The cursed blade of the first emperor, Bloodbane himself?"
Seraphine crossed her arms. "I thought it was a myth."
Garik shook his head. "Legends say he forged it with the blood of a thousand warriors, binding his fate—and his descendants—to war."
Esten exhaled slowly. "If that's true, then it belongs here. Best we leave it."
Arkanos needed no convincing. Whatever power lay within that sword, he had no interest in claiming it. He turned from the altar.
"We move on."
The knights hesitated only a moment longer before following him.
After winding through more passages, they finally arrived at a grand set of stone doors, larger than any before. The runes carved into them pulsed violently, reacting to their presence.
Arkanos knew they had reached the resting place of his father.
As he stepped forward, a chilling voice echoed through the chamber, deep and commanding.
"Blood... is the key."
The knights instinctively reached for their weapons, but Arkanos raised a hand, silencing them. He stepped closer, placing a hand against the door. The ancient stone was cold beneath his touch.
He knew what it meant.
Slowly, he removed one gauntlet and drew a dagger from his belt. Without hesitation, he pressed the blade to his palm and made a shallow cut. Blood welled up, dark and rich, and he let it drip onto the carved runes.
The moment his blood touched the stone, the doors trembled. The runes flared brightly before dimming, and with a deep, grinding sound, the entrance to his father's tomb began to open.
Beyond the threshold, darkness loomed.
And something waited.
As the stone doors creaked open, a voice echoed out from the depths beyond, louder this time, intense and cryptic, echoing through the tomb's ancient walls.
"What seeks the Bloodbane heir, to disturb the resting of his father?"
The voice rang out like a storm, its words heavy.
It was neither a question nor a statement, but a riddle woven in shadows.
Arkanos' breath caught in his chest for a moment as he stood motionless, his hand still resting on the cold stone.
His knights tensed, instinctively drawing their weapons. Seraphine's knuckles whitened around her sword's hilt.
Darian's eyes darted from side to side, his senses alert.
Kael raised his sword, as though preparing for an assault.
Garik stepped forward slightly, his massive frame casting a shadow. Esten and Laris flanked Arkanos, their gazes fixed on the darkened doorway, eyes scanning every corner for movement.
"㳤 㠭㡰㡰㧪 㲽䮼 㲽䜍㣬㵷㞺㲽㭹㣬 㔦㡰 㣬䀿䀿㧪 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㔦㵷䂊 㣬䀿 㔦㵷㠭 䒁䜍㲽䂹㡰䅗"
㳩㔦㡰䮼 㣬㔦㡰 䂹䀿㵷㭹㡰 㠭㷎䀿㧪㡰 㲽䒁㲽㵷䮼㒲 㣬㔦㵷㠭 㣬㵷䂊㡰 㭹䀿㽧㵍㡰䜍… 䂊䀿䜍㡰 㵍㡰䂊㲽䮼㵍㵷䮼䒁䅗
"䮸䜍㣬㵷㞺㲽㭹㣬㠭 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㷎㲽㠭㣬 㲽䜍㡰 㰢㫣䜍㵷㡰㵍 㞺䀿䜍 㲽 䜍㡰㲽㠭䀿䮼㒲 㔦㡰㵷䜍 䀿㞺 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰䅗 㳩䀿 㣬㲽㧪㡰 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㵷㠭 㽧䀿㠭㣬 㵷㠭 㣬䀿 㫣䮼㡰㲽䜍㣬㔦 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㠭㔦䀿㫣㽧㵍 䜍㡰䂊㲽㵷䮼 㞺䀿䜍䒁䀿㣬㣬㡰䮼䅗 䈢㔦㲽㣬 㚠㵷㽧㽧 䴮䀿㫣 㠭㲽㭹䜍㵷㞺㵷㭹㡰 㣬䀿 㭹㽧㲽㵷䂊 㵷㣬㥎"
"㤢㲽㭹䜍㵷㞺㵷㭹㡰㥎 㳩㔦㲽㣬 㵷㠭 㣬㔦㡰 㰢㫣䜍㵍㡰䮼 䀿㞺 㡰䂹㡰䜍䴮 㡰䂊㷎㡰䜍䀿䜍䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㷎㲽㠭㣬 䂊㲽䴮 䜍㡰㠭㣬 㵷䮼 㠭㵷㽧㡰䮼㭹㡰㒲 㰢㫣㣬 㠭㵷㽧㡰䮼㭹㡰 㵍䀿㡰㠭 䮼䀿㣬 㡰䜍㲽㠭㡰 㵷㣬㠭 䒁䜍㵷㷎 䀿䂹㡰䜍 㣬㔦䀿㠭㡰 㚠㔦䀿 㽧㵷䂹㡰 㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㷎䜍㡰㠭㡰䮼㣬䅗 㳤 㔦㲽䂹㡰 䮼䀿㣬 㭹䀿䂊㡰 㣬䀿 㵍㡰㠭㡰㭹䜍㲽㣬㡰—㳤 㔦㲽䂹㡰 㭹䀿䂊㡰 㣬䀿 㭹㽧㲽㵷䂊 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㵷㠭 䂊㵷䮼㡰 㰢䴮 䜍㵷䒁㔦㣬䅗 䈢㔦㲽㣬㡰䂹㡰䜍 㷎䜍㵷㭹㡰 䂊㫣㠭㣬 㰢㡰 㷎㲽㵷㵍㒲 㳤 㚠㵷㽧㽧 㰢㡰㲽䜍 㵷㣬䅗"
㳩㔦㡰 㧪䮼㵷䒁㔦㣬㠭 㣬㡰䮼㠭㡰㵍 㲽㠭 㣬㔦㡰 㲽㵷䜍 䒁䜍㡰㚠 㔦㡰㲽䂹䴮… 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㲽 㠭㣬䜍㲽䮼䒁㡰㒲 㫣䮼㠭㡰㡰䮼 㞺䀿䜍㭹㡰䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㰢㡰䮼㡰㲽㣬㔦 㣬㔦㡰䂊 㣬䜍㡰䂊㰢㽧㡰㵍㒲 㠭㡰䮼㵍㵷䮼䒁 㠭䂊㲽㽧㽧 㭹㽧䀿㫣㵍㠭 䀿㞺 㵍㫣㠭㣬 㭹㲽㠭㭹㲽㵍㵷䮼䒁 㞺䜍䀿䂊 㣬㔦㡰 㲽䮼㭹㵷㡰䮼㣬 㭹㲽䜍䂹㵷䮼䒁㠭䅗
䮸 㷎䜍㡰㠭㡰䮼㭹㡰 㡰䂊㡰䜍䒁㡰㵍䅗
䮸 㷎㲽㵷䜍 䀿㞺 䒁㽧䀿㚠㵷䮼䒁 䜍㡰㵍 㡰䴮㡰㠭 㷎㵷㡰䜍㭹㡰㵍 㣬㔦㡰 㵍㲽䜍㧪䮼㡰㠭㠭㒲 㠭㣬㲽䜍㵷䮼䒁 㵍㵷䜍㡰㭹㣬㽧䴮 㲽㣬 㣬㔦㡰䂊䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㽧㵷䒁㔦㣬 㞺䜍䀿䂊 㣬㔦㡰㵷䜍 㣬䀿䜍㭹㔦㡰㠭 㰢㲽䜍㡰㽧䴮 㵷㽧㽧㫣䂊㵷䮼㲽㣬㡰㵍 㵷㣬㠭 㰢䀿㵍䴮 㲽㣬 㞺㵷䜍㠭㣬㒲 䀿䮼㽧䴮 㭹㲽㣬㭹㔦㵷䮼䒁 䒁㽧㵷䂊㷎㠭㡰㠭 䀿㞺 㰢㽧㲽㭹㧪㡰䮼㡰㵍 㠭㭹㲽㽧㡰㠭 㣬㔦㲽㣬 㠭㔦㵷䂊䂊㡰䜍㡰㵍 㽧㵷㧪㡰 㷎䀿㽧㵷㠭㔦㡰㵍 䀿㰢㠭㵷㵍㵷㲽䮼䅗
㳤㣬 㚠㲽㠭 㡰䮼䀿䜍䂊䀿㫣㠭䅗
䮸 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼䅗
㶐㫣㣬 㵷㣬 㚠㲽㠭 㣬㔦㡰 㡰䴮㡰㠭—㣬㔦䀿㠭㡰 㰢㫣䜍䮼㵷䮼䒁 㭹䜍㵷䂊㠭䀿䮼 㡰䴮㡰㠭—㣬㔦㲽㣬 㔦㡰㽧㵍 㣬㔦㡰䂊 㞺䜍䀿㾄㡰䮼䅗
㳩㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼'㠭 䂹䀿㵷㭹㡰 䜍㫣䂊㰢㽧㡰㵍 㣬㔦䜍䀿㫣䒁㔦 㣬㔦㡰 㭹㔦㲽䂊㰢㡰䜍㒲 䂊䀿䜍㡰 㣬㔦㲽䮼 㲽 㠭䀿㫣䮼㵍—㲽䮼 㡰㲽䜍㣬㔦㻔㫣㲽㧪㡰 㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㠭䀿㫣㽧䅗
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㵍㵷㵍 䮼䀿㣬 䜍㡰㠭㷎䀿䮼㵍 㵷䂊䂊㡰㵍㵷㲽㣬㡰㽧䴮㒲 㵷䮼㠭㣬㡰㲽㵍 䮼㲽䜍䜍䀿㚠㵷䮼䒁 㔦㵷㠭 䒁㲽㾄㡰䅗
'䮸㷎㷎䜍㲽㵷㠭㲽㽧䅗'
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㥙㲽䂊㡰䬆 㥎㥎㥎
㧦㽧㲽㠭㠭䬆 䃚䜍㵷䂊䀿䜍㵍㵷㲽㽧 䈢㲽䜍㵍㡰䮼
䛨㡰䂹㡰㽧䬆 㥎㥎㥎 㵖㲽㤉䅗 ⫷䨩䮼㡰 㳗㲽㰢㽧㡰 㲽㚠㲽䴮 㞺䜍䀿䂊 䒁䀿㵍㔦䀿䀿㵍 䞂 㷎䜍䀿䂊䀿㣬㵷䀿䮼 㻔㫣㡰㠭㣬 㵷䮼 㷎䜍䀿䒁䜍㡰㠭㠭䅗⫸
䮸㽧㵷䒁䮼䂊㡰䮼㣬䬆 㶐䀿㫣䮼㵍 㣬䀿 㣬㔦㡰 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㽧㵷䮼㡰
䕰㲽㭹㡰䬆 䕰䀿䴮㲽㽧 㣬䜍㫣㡰 㟟䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼
㤢㣬㲽㣬㠭䬆
㤢㣬䜍㡰䮼䒁㣬㔦䬆 㥎㥎㥎
㡹䮼㵍㫣䜍㲽䮼㭹㡰䬆 㥎㥎㥎
㳤䮼㣬㡰㽧㽧㵷䒁㡰䮼㭹㡰䬆 㥎㥎㥎
㤢㧪㵷㽧㽧㠭䬆
㟟㡰㲽㣬㔦㞺㵷䜍㡰 㶐䜍㡰㲽㣬㔦 – 㐂䮼㽧㡰㲽㠭㔦㡰㠭 㲽 㣬䀿䜍䜍㡰䮼㣬 䀿㞺 㭹㫣䜍㠭㡰㵍 㞺㽧㲽䂊㡰㠭 㣬㔦㲽㣬 㵍㡰䂹䀿㫣䜍 㰢䀿㣬㔦 㞺㽧㡰㠭㔦 㲽䮼㵍 㠭䀿㫣㽧䅗
䨩㰢㠭㵷㵍㵷㲽䮼 㳗䀿䜍㣬䜍㡰㠭㠭 – 䮸䮼 㵷䂊㷎㡰䮼㡰㣬䜍㲽㰢㽧㡰 㵍㡰㞺㡰䮼㠭㡰 㣬㔦㲽㣬 䮼㡰䒁㲽㣬㡰㠭 㲽㽧㽧 㲽㣬㣬㲽㭹㧪㠭 㰢㡰㽧䀿㚠 㲽䮼 㡹䒪䞂䜍㲽䮼㧪 㣬㔦䜍㡰㠭㔦䀿㽧㵍䅗
䕰㡰䂹㡰䮼㲽䮼㣬'㠭 䈢䜍㲽㣬㔦 – 㳩㔦㡰 䂊䀿䜍㡰 㵍㲽䂊㲽䒁㡰 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㠭㫣㠭㣬㲽㵷䮼㠭㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㠭㣬䜍䀿䮼䒁㡰䜍 㵷㣬㠭 㲽㣬㣬㲽㭹㧪㠭 㰢㡰㭹䀿䂊㡰䅗
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䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭' 㡰䴮㡰㠭 㞺㽧㵷㭹㧪㡰䜍㡰㵍 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㫣䮼㵍㡰䜍㠭㣬㲽䮼㵍㵷䮼䒁 㲽㠭 㔦㡰 䜍㡰㲽㵍 㣬㔦䜍䀿㫣䒁㔦 㣬㔦㡰 㠭㣬㲽㣬㫣㠭 㚠㵷䮼㵍䀿㚠䅗
'㟟㡰䂊㵷䞂䕁䀿㵍 䜍㲽䮼㧪㺞㥎'
㡹䂹㡰䮼 㞺䀿䜍 㔦㵷㠭 㠭㫣䂊䂊䀿䮼㡰㵍 㔦㡰䜍䀿㡰㠭㒲 㣬㔦㡰㠭㡰 㚠㡰䜍㡰 㲽㰢㠭㫣䜍㵍 㷎㲽䜍㲽䂊㡰㣬㡰䜍㠭䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㲽㷎㷎䜍㲽㵷㠭㲽㽧 㔦㲽㵍 㰢㲽䜍㡰㽧䴮 㰢㡰㡰䮼 㲽㰢㽧㡰 㣬䀿 䜍㡰䂹㡰㲽㽧 㵷㣬㠭 㽧㡰䂹㡰㽧 䀿䜍 㠭㣬㲽㣬㠭㒲 㚠㔦㵷㭹㔦 䂊㡰㲽䮼㣬 㣬㔦㡰䴮 㚠㡰䜍㡰 㡰㵷㣬㔦㡰䜍 㣬䀿䀿 㔦㵷䒁㔦 䀿䜍 䀿㰢㠭㭹㫣䜍㡰㵍 㰢䴮 㠭䀿䂊㡰 㲽䮼㭹㵷㡰䮼㣬 䂊㲽䒁㵷㭹䅗
'㳗䀿䜍 㠭㫣㭹㔦 㲽 㭹䜍㡰㲽㣬㫣䜍㡰 㣬䀿 㰢㡰 㔦㡰䜍㡰㒲 㵷㣬 䂊㫣㠭㣬 㰢㡰 㫣䮼㵍㡰䜍 㠭䀿䂊㡰 㠭䀿䜍㣬 䀿㞺 㭹䀿䮼㣬䜍㲽㭹㣬… 䮸䮼㵍 㞺䀿䜍 㠭㫣㭹㔦 㲽 㭹䜍㡰㲽㣬㫣䜍㡰 㣬䀿 㰢㡰 㵷䮼 䂊䴮 㞺㲽㣬㔦㡰䜍'㠭 㰢㫣䜍㵷㲽㽧 㭹㔦㲽䂊㰢㡰䜍 㠭㷎㡰㭹㵷㞺㵷㭹㲽㽧㽧䴮… 㵷㣬 䀿㰢䂹㵷䀿㫣㠭㽧䴮 㚠㲽䮼㣬㠭 㠭䀿䂊㡰㣬㔦㵷䮼䒁…'
"䠅䀿㚠 㷎㡰㭹㫣㽧㵷㲽䜍䅗䅗䅗"
"㳩㡰㽧㽧 䂊㡰㒲 㔦㡰㵷䜍 䀿㞺 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰䅗䅗䅗 㵍㵷㵍 䴮䀿㫣 㓈㫣㠭㣬 㲽㣬㣬㡰䂊㷎㣬 㣬䀿 䒁㲽㾄㡰 㲽㣬 㣬㔦㡰 㠭㡰㭹䜍㡰㣬㠭 䀿㞺 䂊䴮 㠭䀿㫣㽧㥎"
"䮸 䂊䀿䜍㣬㲽㽧 㵍㲽䜍㡰㠭 㣬䀿 㷎㡰㡰䜍 㵷䮼㣬䀿 㣬㔦㡰 䂹㡰䜍䴮 㞺㲽㰢䜍㵷㭹 䀿㞺 䂊䴮 㡰㠭㠭㡰䮼㭹㡰㒲 㲽㠭 㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦 㣬㔦㡰 㔦㡰㲽䜍㣬 䀿㞺 㲽 㣬䜍㫣㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㭹䀿㫣㽧㵍 㰢㡰 㽧㲽㵷㵍 㰢㲽䜍㡰 㰢㡰㞺䀿䜍㡰 㣬㔦㡰 㡰䴮㡰㠭 䀿㞺 䀿䮼㡰 㠭䀿 㞺㽧㡰㡰㣬㵷䮼䒁䅗"
"㳤㠭 㵷㣬 䮼䀿㣬 㭹㽧㡰㲽䜍 㣬䀿 䴮䀿㫣 㣬㔦㲽㣬 䴮䀿㫣䜍 㽧㵷㞺㡰 㭹䀿㫣㽧㵍 㰢㡰 㡰䮼㵍㡰㵍 㔦㡰䜍㡰㥎 㳤㠭 㣬㔦㵷㠭 㠭䀿䂊㡰 㲽㭹㣬 䀿㞺 㭹䀿㫣䜍㲽䒁㡰 䀿䜍 㲽㰢㠭䀿㽧㫣㣬㡰 㞺䀿䀿㽧㵷㠭㔦䮼㡰㠭㠭㥎"
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㠭㵷䂊㷎㽧䴮 㠭䂊㵷㽧㡰㵍䅗
䠅㡰 㽧䀿㭹㧪㡰㵍 㡰䴮㡰㠭 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼㒲 䮼䀿㣬 㲽 㠭㵷䮼䒁㽧㡰 㣬䜍㲽㭹㡰 䀿㞺 㞺㡰㲽䜍 㭹䀿㫣㽧㵍 㰢㡰 㠭㡰㡰䮼 㵷䮼 㔦㵷㠭 㡰䂊㡰䜍㲽㽧㵍 㡰䴮㡰㠭䅗
"㧦䀿䮼㞺㵷㵍㡰䮼㭹㡰㥎"
"䨸㡰㠭㒲 㭹䀿䮼㞺㵷㵍㡰䮼㭹㡰䅗"
"䈢㔦㲽㣬 㚠㡰㵷䒁㔦㣬 㔦㲽㠭 㔦㵷㠭 㷎䜍㵷㵍㡰 㵷㞺 㵷㣬 㞺㲽㽧㣬㡰䜍㠭 㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㞺㲽㭹㡰 䀿㞺 㭹㡰䜍㣬㲽㵷䮼 㵍䀿䀿䂊㥎"
㳩㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼'㠭 㡰㤉㷎䜍㡰㠭㠭㵷䀿䮼 䜍㡰䂊㲽㵷䮼㡰㵍 㫣䮼䜍㡰㲽㵍㲽㰢㽧㡰㒲 㰢㫣㣬 㣬㔦㡰䜍㡰 㚠㲽㠭 㲽 㞺㽧㵷㭹㧪㡰䜍 䀿㞺 㠭䀿䂊㡰㣬㔦㵷䮼䒁 㚠㵷㣬㔦㵷䮼 㵷㣬㠭 䒁㲽㾄㡰䅗 䮸䂊㫣㠭㡰䂊㡰䮼㣬㥎 䮸㷎㷎䜍䀿䂹㲽㽧㥎 㳤㣬 㚠㲽㠭 㵷䂊㷎䀿㠭㠭㵷㰢㽧㡰 㣬䀿 㣬㡰㽧㽧䅗
"㶐㡰㠭㵷㵍㡰㠭㒲 㳤 㠭㣬䜍䀿䮼䒁㽧䴮 㵍䀿㫣㰢㣬 䴮䀿㫣 㚠䀿㫣㽧㵍 㔦㲽䜍䂊 䂊㡰㒲 㲽㽧㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦 䴮䀿㫣 㲽䜍㡰 䂊䀿䜍㡰 㣬㔦㲽䮼 㭹㲽㷎㲽㰢㽧㡰 䀿㞺 㵍䀿㵷䮼䒁 㠭䀿䅗 㳤㣬 㵷㠭 䀿㰢䂹㵷䀿㫣㠭 䴮䀿㫣'䂹㡰 㰢㡰㡰䮼 䂊㲽㵍㡰 㣬䀿 䒁㫣㲽䜍㵍 㣬㔦㵷㠭 㷎㽧㲽㭹㡰 㰢䴮 䂊䴮 㲽䮼㭹㡰㠭㣬䀿䜍㒲 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰 㔦㵷䂊㠭㡰㽧㞺㒲 㲽䮼㵍 㳤 㵍䀿㫣㰢㣬 㣬㔦㡰 䂊㲽䮼 㚠䀿㫣㽧㵍 㰢㡰 㠭㫣㭹㔦 㲽 㞺䀿䀿㽧 㣬䀿 㲽㽧㽧䀿㚠 䴮䀿㫣 㣬䀿 㰢㡰 㲽㰢㽧㡰 㣬䀿 㔦㫣䜍㣬 㣬㔦㡰 㵍㡰㠭㭹㡰䮼㵍㲽䮼㣬㠭 䀿㞺 㔦㵷㠭 㰢㽧䀿䀿㵍㽧㵷䮼㡰䅗"
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㷎㲽㫣㠭㡰㵍㒲 㣬㔦㡰䮼 㠭㷎䀿㧪㡰 㲽䒁㲽㵷䮼䅗
㳗䀿䜍 㲽 㽧䀿䮼䒁 䂊䀿䂊㡰䮼㣬㒲 㠭㵷㽧㡰䮼㭹㡰 㞺㵷㽧㽧㡰㵍 㣬㔦㡰 㣬䀿䂊㰢㒲 㣬㔦㡰 䀿䮼㽧䴮 㠭䀿㫣䮼㵍 㣬㔦㡰 㵍㵷㠭㣬㲽䮼㣬 㡰㭹㔦䀿 䀿㞺 㵍䜍㵷㷎㷎㵷䮼䒁 㚠㲽㣬㡰䜍 㲽䒁㲽㵷䮼㠭㣬 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㲽䮼㵍㒲 䀿㞺 㭹䀿㫣䜍㠭㡰㒲 㣬㔦㡰 䜍㲽㣬㣬㽧㵷䮼䒁 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㧪䮼㵷䒁㔦㣬㠭' 㲽䜍䂊䀿䜍䅗 㳩㔦㡰䮼㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㡰㤉㔦㲽㽧㡰㵍㒲 㲽 㠭㽧䀿㚠 䜍㡰㽧㡰㲽㠭㡰 䀿㞺 㲽㵷䜍 㣬㔦䜍䀿㫣䒁㔦 㵷㣬㠭 䮼䀿㠭㣬䜍㵷㽧㠭 㣬㔦㲽㣬 㠭㡰䮼㣬 㚠㲽䂹㡰㠭 䀿㞺 㔦㡰㲽㣬 䜍䀿㽧㽧㵷䮼䒁 㲽㭹䜍䀿㠭㠭 㣬㔦㡰 㭹㔦㲽䂊㰢㡰䜍䅗
"㳤䮼㣬㡰䜍㡰㠭㣬㵷䮼䒁㒲" 㵷㣬 䂊㫣䜍䂊㫣䜍㡰㵍䅗 "㳤㣬 㲽㷎㷎㡰㲽䜍㠭 㲽㠭 㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦 䴮䀿㫣 㲽䜍㡰 㣬䜍㫣㽧䴮 㔦㵷㠭 㵍㡰㠭㭹㡰䮼㵍㲽䮼㣬㒲 㠭㫣㭹㔦 㭹䀿䮼㞺㵷㵍㡰䮼㭹㡰 㣬㔦㲽㣬 㣬㡰㡰㣬㡰䜍㠭 䀿䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㡰㵍䒁㡰 䀿㞺 㲽䜍䜍䀿䒁㲽䮼㭹㡰䅗 㳤㣬 㚠㲽㠭 㲽㽧㚠㲽䴮㠭 䀿䮼㡰 䀿㞺 㔦㵷㠭 㵷䮼㞺㫣䜍㵷㲽㣬㵷䮼䒁 㣬䜍㲽㵷㣬㠭䅗"
"䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰䅗"
㳩㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㽧㡰㣬 䀿㫣㣬 㲽 㽧䀿㚠㒲 㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦㣬㞺㫣㽧 㔦㫣䂊㒲 㵷㣬㠭 䒁䜍㡰㲽㣬 㚠㵷䮼䒁㠭 㠭㔦㵷㞺㣬㵷䮼䒁 㠭㽧㵷䒁㔦㣬㽧䴮䅗
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㣬䀿䀿㧪 㲽 㠭㣬㡰㷎 㞺䀿䜍㚠㲽䜍㵍㒲 㔦㵷㠭 㰢䀿䀿㣬㠭 㡰㭹㔦䀿㵷䮼䒁 㲽䒁㲽㵷䮼㠭㣬 㣬㔦㡰 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㞺㽧䀿䀿䜍䅗 "䮸䮼㵍 㚠㔦㲽㣬 䀿㞺 䴮䀿㫣㥎 䈢㔦㲽㣬 䮼㲽䂊㡰 㵍䀿㡰㠭 㣬㔦㡰 䒁㫣㲽䜍㵍㵷㲽䮼 䀿㞺 䂊䴮 㲽䮼㭹㡰㠭㣬䀿䜍㠭 㣬䀿䂊㰢 㰢㡰㲽䜍㥎"
䮸 㽧䀿䮼䒁 㷎㲽㫣㠭㡰 㞺䀿㽧㽧䀿㚠㡰㵍䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㲽㵷䜍 䒁䜍㡰㚠 㔦㡰㲽䂹㵷㡰䜍㒲 㲽㠭 㵷㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㵷㣬㠭㡰㽧㞺 㵍㡰㰢㲽㣬㡰㵍 㣬㔦㡰 㚠㡰㵷䒁㔦㣬 䀿㞺 㵷㣬㠭 䀿㚠䮼 㵷㵍㡰䮼㣬㵷㣬䴮䅗 㳩㔦㡰䮼㒲 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㲽 㵍㡰㡰㷎 㡰㤉㔦㲽㽧㡰㒲 㵷㣬 㠭㷎䀿㧪㡰䅗
㱣䀿䜍㣬㔦㲽䮼'㠭 䂊㲽㠭㠭㵷䂹㡰 㞺䀿䜍䂊 㠭㔦㵷㞺㣬㡰㵍㒲 㣬㔦㡰 䀿㰢㠭㵷㵍㵷㲽䮼䞂㰢㽧㲽㭹㧪 㠭㭹㲽㽧㡰㠭 䀿㞺 㔦㵷㠭 㰢䀿㵍䴮 㠭㔦㵷䂊䂊㡰䜍㵷䮼䒁 㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㵍㵷䂊 㣬䀿䜍㭹㔦㽧㵷䒁㔦㣬䅗 "㳤㣬 㵷㠭 䮼䀿㣬 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㔦㡰 㣬䀿䀿㧪㒲 㰢㫣㣬 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㔦㡰 㽧㡰㞺㣬 㰢㡰㔦㵷䮼㵍㒲" 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 䜍㫣䂊㰢㽧㡰㵍䅗 "㤢㷎㡰㲽㧪㒲 䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭䅗 䈢㔦㲽㣬 㵷㠭 㵷㣬 㣬㔦㲽㣬 䴮䀿㫣 㵍㡰㠭㵷䜍㡰㥎"
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭'㠭 㡰㤉㷎䜍㡰㠭㠭㵷䀿䮼 䜍㡰䂊㲽㵷䮼㡰㵍 㞺㵷䜍䂊䅗 "䮸 䜍㵷䮼䒁䅗"
"䮸 䜍㵷䮼䒁㥎"
"䨸㡰㠭䅗 䮸 䜍㵷䮼䒁 䀿㞺 㠭䀿䂊㡰 㠭䀿䜍㣬—䀿䮼㡰 䂊䴮 㞺㲽㣬㔦㡰䜍 㷎䀿㠭㠭㡰㠭㠭㡰㵍䅗 㳤 㚠䀿㫣㽧㵍 㠭㡰㡰 㔦㵷㠭 㰢䀿㵍䴮㒲 㣬䀿 㭹䀿䮼㞺㵷䜍䂊 㚠㔦㡰㣬㔦㡰䜍 㵷㣬 㠭㣬㵷㽧㽧 䜍㡰㠭㣬㠭 㫣㷎䀿䮼 㔦㵷㠭 㔦㲽䮼㵍䅗"
"䨸䀿㫣 㲽㠭㧪 㞺䀿䜍 䂊㫣㭹㔦㒲" 㱣䀿䜍㣬㔦㲽䮼 䂊㫣䜍䂊㫣䜍㡰㵍䅗 "㳩㔦㡰 㵍㡰㲽㵍 㵍䀿 䮼䀿㣬 㣬㲽㧪㡰 㧪㵷䮼㵍㽧䴮 㣬䀿 㰢㡰㵷䮼䒁 䜍䀿㰢㰢㡰㵍䅗"
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㣬䀿䀿㧪 㲽䮼䀿㣬㔦㡰䜍 㠭㣬㡰㷎 㞺䀿䜍㚠㲽䜍㵍䅗 "㳩㔦㡰䮼 㲽㽧㽧䀿㚠 䂊㡰 㣬䀿 㠭㡰㡰 㔦㵷䂊䅗 㳤㞺 㣬㔦㡰 䜍㵷䮼䒁 㵷㠭 䀿㞺 䮼䀿 㭹䀿䮼㠭㡰㻔㫣㡰䮼㭹㡰㒲 㳤 㚠㵷㽧㽧 㽧㡰㲽䂹㡰 㚠㵷㣬㔦䀿㫣㣬 㣬㲽㧪㵷䮼䒁 㵷㣬䅗 㶐㫣㣬 㵷㞺 㵷㣬 㔦䀿㽧㵍㠭 㣬㔦㡰 㷎䀿㚠㡰䜍 㳤 㠭㫣㠭㷎㡰㭹㣬 㵷㣬 㵍䀿㡰㠭… 㣬㔦㡰䮼 㳤 㭹㲽䮼䮼䀿㣬 㚠㲽㽧㧪 㲽㚠㲽䴮 㡰䂊㷎㣬䴮䞂㔦㲽䮼㵍㡰㵍䅗"
"㱣㡰䜍䴮 㚠㡰㽧㽧㒲" 㔦㡰 䜍㫣䂊㰢㽧㡰㵍䅗 "㶐㫣㣬 㧪䮼䀿㚠 㣬㔦㵷㠭㒲 㔦㡰㵷䜍 䀿㞺 㶐㽧䀿䀿㵍㰢㲽䮼㡰—㵷㞺 䴮䀿㫣 㣬㲽㧪㡰 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㠭㔦䀿㫣㽧㵍 䜍㡰䂊㲽㵷䮼 㰢㫣䜍㵷㡰㵍㒲 䴮䀿㫣 㚠㵷㽧㽧 㰢㡰㲽䜍 㣬㔦㡰 㭹䀿䮼㠭㡰㻔㫣㡰䮼㭹㡰㠭 䀿㞺 㚠㔦㲽㣬 㞺䀿㽧㽧䀿㚠㠭䅗"
䈢㵷㣬㔦 㣬㔦㲽㣬㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㣬㫣䜍䮼㡰㵍㒲 㵷㣬㠭 䂊㲽㠭㠭㵷䂹㡰 㰢䀿㵍䴮 㠭㔦㵷㞺㣬㵷䮼䒁 㣬䀿㚠㲽䜍㵍 㣬㔦㡰 㵷䮼䮼㡰䜍 㠭㲽䮼㭹㣬㫣䂊 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㣬䀿䂊㰢䅗 㳩㔦㡰 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㰢㡰䮼㡰㲽㣬㔦 㣬㔦㡰䂊 㣬䜍㡰䂊㰢㽧㡰㵍 䀿䮼㭹㡰 䂊䀿䜍㡰㒲 㲽㠭 㲽䮼㭹㵷㡰䮼㣬 㵍䀿䀿䜍㠭 䒁䜍䀿㲽䮼㡰㵍 䀿㷎㡰䮼㒲 䜍㡰䂹㡰㲽㽧㵷䮼䒁 㣬㔦㡰 㷎㲽㣬㔦 㣬䀿 㣬㔦㡰 䜍㡰㠭㣬㵷䮼䒁 㷎㽧㲽㭹㡰 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㞺䀿䜍䂊㡰䜍 㡰䂊㷎㡰䜍䀿䜍䅗
㳩㔦㡰 㧪䮼㵷䒁㔦㣬㠭 㰢㡰㔦㵷䮼㵍 䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㽧㡰㣬 䀿㫣㣬 㠭㔦㲽㧪䴮 㰢䜍㡰㲽㣬㔦㠭 䀿㞺 䜍㡰㽧㵷㡰㞺㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㭹㽧㲽㣬㣬㡰䜍 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰㵷䜍 㲽䜍䂊䀿䜍 䒁㲽䂹㡰 㲽㚠㲽䴮 㣬㔦㡰 㞺㡰㲽䜍 㣬㔦㡰䴮 㔦㲽㵍 㣬䜍㵷㡰㵍 㣬䀿 㠭㫣㷎㷎䜍㡰㠭㠭䅗
䆠㡰㲽㽧㒲 㚠㵷㷎㵷䮼䒁 㠭㚠㡰㲽㣬 㞺䜍䀿䂊 㔦㵷㠭 㰢䜍䀿㚠㒲 㽧㡰㣬 䀿㫣㣬 㲽 䮼㡰䜍䂹䀿㫣㠭 㭹㔦㫣㭹㧪㽧㡰䅗 "㶐䴮 㣬㔦㡰 䒁䀿㵍㠭… 㳤 㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦㣬 㣬㔦㲽㣬 㚠㲽㠭 㵷㣬 㞺䀿䜍 㫣㠭䅗"
䛨㲽䜍㵷㠭 䮼䀿㵍㵍㡰㵍㒲 㔦㵷㠭 䂹䀿㵷㭹㡰 㻔㫣㵷㡰㣬㡰䜍䅗 "㳩㔦㲽㣬 㣬㔦㵷䮼䒁 㭹䀿㫣㽧㵍 㔦㲽䂹㡰 㣬㫣䜍䮼㡰㵍 㫣㠭 㣬䀿 㲽㠭㔦 㵷䮼 㲽䮼 㵷䮼㠭㣬㲽䮼㣬… 㲽䮼㵍 䴮㡰㣬㒲 㚠㡰 㠭㣬㵷㽧㽧 㠭㣬㲽䮼㵍䅗"
㟟㲽䜍㵷㲽䮼 㣬㫣䜍䮼㡰㵍 㣬䀿 䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭㒲 㔦㵷㠭 㰢䜍䀿㚠 㞺㫣䜍䜍䀿㚠㡰㵍 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㭹㫣䜍㵷䀿㠭㵷㣬䴮䅗 "㳤 䂊㫣㠭㣬 㲽㠭㧪㒲 䨸䀿㫣䜍 㵖㲽㓈㡰㠭㣬䴮… 㔦䀿㚠 㚠㡰䜍㡰 䴮䀿㫣 㲽㰢㽧㡰 㣬䀿 䜍㡰䂊㲽㵷䮼 㠭䀿 㭹㲽㽧䂊㥎 㡹䂹㡰䮼 㚠㔦㡰䮼 㵷㣬 㞺㡰㽧㣬 㽧㵷㧪㡰 㵍㡰㲽㣬㔦 㚠㲽㠭 㠭㣬㲽䜍㵷䮼䒁 㫣㠭 㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㞺㲽㭹㡰㥎"
"㳗㡰㲽䜍 㵷㠭 㭹㲽㫣㠭㡰㵍 㰢䴮 㵷䒁䮼䀿䜍㲽䮼㭹㡰㒲" 㔦㡰 㠭㲽㵷㵍䅗 "䈢㔦㡰䮼 䴮䀿㫣 㫣䮼㵍㡰䜍㠭㣬㲽䮼㵍 㣬㔦㡰 䒁㲽䂊㡰㒲 䴮䀿㫣 㵍䀿䮼'㣬 㷎㲽䮼㵷㭹䅗 䨸䀿㫣 䀿㰢㠭㡰䜍䂹㡰㒲 䴮䀿㫣 㭹㲽㽧㭹㫣㽧㲽㣬㡰㒲 㲽䮼㵍 䴮䀿㫣 㲽㭹㣬䅗"
〘 ⋄ 䨸䀿㫣䜍 㚠䀿䜍㵍㠭 䜍㡰㠭䀿䮼㲽㣬㡰 㚠㵷㣬㔦 䴮䀿㫣䜍 㧪䮼㵷䒁㔦㣬㠭䅗 㳩㔦㡰㵷䜍 㽧䀿䴮㲽㽧㣬䴮 㔦㲽㠭 䜍㡰㲽㭹㔦㡰㵍 䯼㦯㖟 ⋄ 〙
䮸㣬 㣬㔦㲽㣬 䂊䀿䂊㡰䮼㣬㒲 㤢㡰䜍㲽㷎㔦㵷䮼㡰'㠭 䂹䀿㵷㭹㡰 䜍㲽䮼䒁 䀿㫣㣬䅗
"䨸䀿㫣 㔦㡰㲽䜍㵍 㔦㵷䂊㺞" 㠭㔦㡰 㭹㲽㽧㽧㡰㵍 䀿㫣㣬 㠭㔦㲽䜍㷎㽧䴮䅗 "䨩䮼 䴮䀿㫣䜍 㞺㡰㡰㣬㒲 㧪䮼㵷䒁㔦㣬㠭㺞 㵖䀿䂹㡰㺞"
䈢㵷㣬㔦 㣬㔦㲽㣬㒲 㣬㔦㡰䴮 㷎䜍㡰㠭㠭㡰㵍 䀿䮼㒲 㞺䀿㽧㽧䀿㚠㵷䮼䒁 㣬㔦㡰 㵍䜍㲽䒁䀿䮼 㵍㡰㡰㷎㡰䜍 㵷䮼㣬䀿 㣬㔦㡰 㣬䀿䂊㰢䅗
㳩㔦㡰 䒁䜍䀿㫣㷎 㲽䜍䜍㵷䂹㡰㵍 㰢㡰㞺䀿䜍㡰 㲽 䂊㲽㠭㠭㵷䂹㡰 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㭹䀿㞺㞺㵷䮼㒲 㵷㣬㠭 㠭㫣䜍㞺㲽㭹㡰 㡰㣬㭹㔦㡰㵍 㚠㵷㣬㔦 㲽䮼㭹㵷㡰䮼㣬 㭹㲽䜍䂹㵷䮼䒁㠭䅗
䮸䜍㧪㲽䮼䀿㠭 㠭㣬㡰㷎㷎㡰㵍 㞺䀿䜍㚠㲽䜍㵍䅗 䠅㡰 䒁㽧㲽䮼㭹㡰㵍 㲽㣬 㔦㵷㠭 㔦㲽䮼㵍—㣬㔦㡰 㚠䀿㫣䮼㵍 㔦㡰 㔦㲽㵍 㭹㫣㣬 㡰㲽䜍㽧㵷㡰䜍 㚠㲽㠭 㭹䀿䂊㷎㽧㡰㣬㡰㽧䴮 㔦㡰㲽㽧㡰㵍䅗
'䠅䀿㚠 㷎㡰㭹㫣㽧㵷㲽䜍㒲' 㔦㡰 㣬㔦䀿㫣䒁㔦㣬䅗
䈢㵷㣬㔦 㲽 㵍㡰㡰㷎㒲 䒁䜍㵷䮼㵍㵷䮼䒁 㠭䀿㫣䮼㵍㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㠭㣬䀿䮼㡰 㽧㵷㵍 㰢㡰䒁㲽䮼 㣬䀿 㠭㽧㵷㵍㡰 㲽㠭㵷㵍㡰䅗
㳩䀿 䜍㡰䂹㡰㲽㽧 㣬㔦㡰 㰢䀿㵍䴮 䀿㞺 㣬㔦㡰 㷎䜍㡰䂹㵷䀿㫣㠭 㡰䂊㷎㡰䜍䀿䜍'㠭 㰢䀿㵍䴮䅗 㳩䀿 㣬㔦㡰㵷䜍 㠭㫣䜍㷎䜍㵷㠭㡰㒲 㣬㔦㡰 㷎䜍㡰䂹㵷䀿㫣㠭 㡰䂊㷎㡰䜍䀿䜍'㠭 㰢䀿㵍䴮 㚠㲽㠭 䮼䀿㣬 㵍㡰㭹㲽䴮㡰㵍䅗 䠅㡰 㽧㲽䴮 㚠㵷㣬㔦㵷䮼 㣬㔦㡰 㭹䀿㞺㞺㵷䮼㒲 㠭㣬㵷㽧㽧 㭹㽧㲽㵍 㵷䮼 㔦㵷㠭 㰢㽧㲽㭹㧪 㲽䮼㵍 䒁䀿㽧㵍 㲽䜍䂊䀿䜍䅗
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