Crushing flags and claiming the Villainess

Chapter 113: Chapter 112- True face(1)

Chapter 113: Chapter 112- True face(1)

[Two days later]

In Eryndor, a gathering of people has been arranged.

Those who were worried about the King's health gathered in the royal court to see and greet the King.

Naturally, because of so many people here, the security of the royal court was extra strict as well. And those who were allowed to enter the palace were thoroughly examined near the entrance.

On the throne, Cedric was seated. Although he seemed slightly feverish, he was quite better in comparison to how he was when Austin came to meet him.

His strict diet and regular sessions with the healers allowed the man to recover well.

And since it was still not discovered who and how someone poisoned the King, the food he eats is still being prepared by the butler.

Now, in the royal court, those who have gathered expressed their relief upon seeing their Monarch being healthy once again.

"Your Majesty, my eyes are blessed to see you in good health." One of the men, who was a farmer by profession, knelt on the floor with his hands clasped.

"It really put us at ease to see our ruler in good health." A woman added, having a smile of relief on her face.

Cedric couldn't stop himself from smiling. Seeing how much he was loved by his people, makes him feel that he hasn't failed his predecessor.

The Queen, who was sitting behind the curtains, also smiled in elation, upon finding that so many people cared about her husband.

"It's the well wishes of my people that I have recovered so well," Cedric spoke, his voice soothing the hearts of many.

Although Eryndor was a small country, Cedric has always ensured that within his jurisdiction, everyone gets to eat three meals a day.

He even goes out regularly to inspect the situation with regular people and take necessary action to improve their situation.

It was his wife's idea to take a couple of steps for people's betterment—like providing monthly ration to the family members of those who are serving the country. And employment to those who live in remote areas.

With the help of responsible ministers who work under him, Cedric has established a harmonious family within Eryndor.

Just like others, Duke Corwon also had a soft smile on his face as he heard the blessings of the people.

However, the person sitting on the second seat on the left—the first Prince of the nation, looked quite bored by all this.

He really didn't want to be a part of this at all, however, convincing his mother against it would have been a little too much. The lady still loves her husband quite a lot, and his skill wouldn't have been able to overwrite that.

But maybe slowly, he would somehow corrupt the woman and use her to his benefit.

'I guess it's enough now...' Deciding to prepone his plans, Aiden glanced at one of the ministers across from him.

The minister nodded before he turned toward someone in the crowd.

It was then—

"You are unfair!" Amidst the peaceful ceremony, suddenly a woman cried.

Every eye turned towards her as the weeping woman came to the front and cried again,

"You are sacrificing our lives for the sake of your son!"

People suddenly began whispering, wondering what the woman was spouting all of a sudden.

Cedric had a frown on his face as he heard the woman,

"My husband died at the hands of the spies from Drenovar. My whole life is ruined, and now, you are about to risk everyone who depends on you...who trusts you!"

The soldiers were already moving, raising their spears, and were about to take the woman away.

Aiden glared at the minister, before he got up, "What are you spouting, woman?! Say clearly!"

Prime Minister frowned upon seeing the senior adviser suddenly adding oil to the small fire.

Hearing his words, even the soldiers paused, allowing the woman to add, "Hener extended a helping hand in exchange for punishing your second son. And with their help, we all know that we will win against Drenovar! Yet you....you chose your son over your nation!"

Cedric's brows were creased. He didn't know how, but it seemed the news of Hener's proposal had gone out.

'It might be their doing...' Cedric thought that it might be someone from Hener who spread the news.

However, the King completely missed to notice a certain young man with silver hair, grinning slightly at the scene.

The piece of information was spread amongst the people and everyone began muttering about it soon.

Prime Minister Arthur gritted his teeth—why are they letting it continue.

He suddenly rose from his seat before commanding, "Take that woman away now-"

"Is it true, Prime Minister? Did we really get a helping hand?" Someone from the crowd asked the man.

"Tell us, Prime Minister? Is it really true?" Another voice and the question were the same.

Following them were several more voices, asking the same thing again and again.

Aiden wore a perfect facade and got up from his seat, before asking the Prime Minister, "Should we push them out?"

㵒'㾲 㺠㱨㨁䕳䢮 䘲㮠䶢䟚㹫䕳䇶㨁 㐅䕳䪰㮠㨁䢮䡻䩶㞾㨁 㨁䶢䓓 䶢䩪㨁䘭㱨䩪 䇶䡻䪰䇶'䘲 䘭䡻䟚䶢 䶢䡻㐅 䩶䩶㹫䶢'䩶䶢䢮䩪㮠䡻䶢䘭䠚㹫䘲䘭㨁㣾䕳㨁䶢䇶䩪䢮

㫺㨁䇶㮠䡻㱨 䨹䕳䘭 䕳䍬䩪㹫䘲 䘲䩪 䘭䕳㾲 䘭䩪㐅㨁䘲䶢䡻䪰䟚 䨹䶢㨁䪰 䘭㹫䇶䇶㨁䪰㞾㾲㺠 "䤄㨁 䘭䶢䩪㹫㞾䇶䪰'䘲 䕳㱨㱨㨁㫁䘲 䘲䶢㨁䡻㮠 㫁㮠䩪㫁䩪䘭䕳㞾㡍" 㼥 䍬䩪䩪㐅䡻䪰䟚 㣾䩪䡻㱨㨁 㮠㨁䘭䩪䪰䕳䘲㨁䇶 䡻䪰 䘲䶢㨁 㱨䩪㹫㮠䘲䩶

䓓䶢㨁 㫁㨁㮠䘭䩪䪰 䘭䡻㞾㨁䪰㱨㨁䇶 㨁㣾㨁㮠㾲䩪䪰㨁 䕳䘭 䶢㨁 䘭䘲䩪䩪䇶 䕳䘲 䶢䡻䘭 㫁㞾䕳㱨㨁 䨹䡻䘲䶢 䶢䡻䘭 䶢㨁䕳䇶 㞾㨁䕳䪰䡻䪰䟚 䇶䩪䨹䪰䩶

䇶㮠䩶䶢䙥䕳㨁䇶㺠䨹䩪㮠䢮䪰䘭䶢䡻䘲䘭䶢䡻 㞾䕳䪰㣾䘲㨁䡻㫁㹫㵒䕳䡻 䩪'䙥 䩪䢮䘭䡻㨁䶢㣾㾲䕳㺠 䢮䢮㱨㨁䘲㨁䢮㨁㞾䘲䘭䇶䘲㮠䕳䩶'䍬䕳 䘲䶢㨁䕳䘭䘲㨁䘭䡻䪰䪰䩪 䇶㨁䶢䕳䘭䕳䘭䇶㨁㹫䇶䪰䪰䡻䘲䘭㹫㼥㐅䕳䟚䜑䡻䪰䕳 㨁䶢䘭䶢䡻

㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰 㱨䩪䪰䘲䡻䪰㹫㨁䇶㺠 "㽞䕳䘲䶢㨁㮠㺠 䨹䡻䘲䶢 䕳㞾㞾 㮠㨁䘭㫁㨁㱨䘲㺠 䨹㨁 䘭䶢䩪㹫㞾䇶䪰'䘲 䢮䩪㮠䟚㨁䘲 䨹䶢䕳䘲 䘲䶢䩪䘭㨁 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁 䶢䕳㣾㨁 䇶䩪䪰㨁 䘲䩪 㹫䘭䩶 㫺䩪䪰䘭䘲䕳䪰䘲㞾㾲 䘲䩪㮠㐅㨁䪰䘲䡻䪰䟚 䩪㹫㮠 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁㺠 䘭㞾䕳㹫䟚䶢䘲㨁㮠䡻䪰䟚 䘭䩪 㐅䕳䪰㾲 䘭䩪㞾䇶䡻㨁㮠䘭㺠 䕳䪰䇶 㐅䕳䜑䡻䪰䟚 䕳 䠚䩪䜑㨁 䩪㹫䘲 䩪䢮 㹫䘭 䡻䪰 䢮㮠䩪䪰䘲 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 䨹䶢䩪㞾㨁 䨹䩪㮠㞾䇶䩶"

䓓䶢㨁 㣾䩪䡻㱨㨁 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 䢮䡻㮠䘭䘲 㵊㮠䡻䪰㱨㨁 㮠㨁䘭䩪䪰䕳䘲㨁䇶 䕳㱨㮠䩪䘭䘭 䘲䶢㨁 㮠䩪㾲䕳㞾 㱨䩪㹫㮠䘲㺠 䘲䶢㨁 㨁䢮䢮㨁㱨䘲 䩪䢮 䙥䶢䕳㮠䇶 䨹䩪㮠䜑䡻䪰䟚 䩪䪰 䘲䶢䩪䘭㨁 㨁䢮䢮㨁㱨䘲䡻㣾㨁㞾㾲 䨹䶢䩪 䕳㞾㮠㨁䕳䇶㾲 䨹㨁㮠㨁 䡻䪰 䶢䡻䘭 䢮䕳㣾䩪㮠䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䡻䪰㱨㞾㹫䇶㨁䇶 䘲䶢㨁 䔖㹫㨁㨁䪰 䕳䘭 䨹㨁㞾㞾䩶

䡻䶢䘭 㹫㨁㐅䩪㹫㮠䘭䪰 㨁䘭䩪䶢䘲 㺠㨁䜑䩪㫁䘭"䌩䘲 䩪䨹䶢䩶㮠㾲㨁㨁㐅䩶䩶㣾㨁䩪䢮䕳䇶䪰 䡻䶢䘭 㣾䘭䡻䘲䡻䇶㫁䘭㮠㨁㨁䘭䪰䇶䕳䶢 䘲䶢㨁 䕳㨁䇶䶢䶢䘲㨁 㨁䪰㣾㮠䘭㐅㡍䡻" 䕳㾲䟚㨁㮠㣾䕳䇶㮠䍬䘲䩪䘭䘲㨁䩪㐅䘭䪰 㨁䶢䘲䜑䡻㞾䇶㨁㞾 㨁䡻䇶㞾䘭䩪䘭㮠䘭㨁㨁 䘭䪰䡻䕳㫁 㨁䘭䩪䶢䘲 䍬㾲 䨹㨁㮠㨁䌩 䘲䕳䟚䕳䡻䪰䘭 䤄䡻䘲䶢䘭䡻㞾㣾㨁㮠㨁䡻䘲㐅䘲䢮㨁㞾 䘲㱨㺠䶢㨁䘭

䓓㹫㮠䪰䡻䪰䟚 䶢䡻䘭 㮠㨁䇶䇶㨁䪰㨁䇶 㨁㾲㨁䘭 䘲䩪䨹䕳㮠䇶 䶢䡻䘭 䢮䕳䘲䶢㨁㮠㺠 䶢㨁 䕳䇶䇶㨁䇶㺠 "㼥䪰䇶 䪰䩪䨹 䘲䶢㨁㾲 䕳㮠㨁 䨹㨁䕳䜑㨁䪰㨁䇶 䍬㨁㱨䕳㹫䘭㨁 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 䎍㨁㞾㞾䘭䘲䕳䡻䪰 䘲䶢㨁㾲 䕳㮠㨁 䩪䢮䢮㨁㮠䡻䪰䟚 䕳 䶢㨁㞾㫁䡻䪰䟚 䶢䕳䪰䇶䱸㡍 㼥㐅 䌩 䘲䶢㨁 䩪䪰㞾㾲 䩪䪰㨁 䨹䶢䩪 㱨䕳䪰 䘭㨁㨁 䘲䶢㨁䡻㮠 䘲㮠㹫㨁 䢮䕳㱨㨁䱸"

䓓䶢㨁 㽞䡻㮠䘭䘲 㵊㮠䡻䪰㱨㨁 䘲㹫㮠䪰㨁䇶 䕳㮠䩪㹫䪰䇶 䕳䪰䇶 㞾䩪䩪䜑㨁䇶 䕳䘲 䩪䘲䶢㨁㮠 㐅䡻䪰䡻䘭䘲㨁㮠䘭䩶 䙥䩪㐅㨁 䨹㨁㮠㨁 㞾䩪䨹㨁㮠䡻䪰䟚 䘲䶢㨁䡻㮠 䶢㨁䕳䇶䘭 䕳䪰䇶 䘭䩪㐅㨁 䨹㨁㮠㨁 䪰䩪䇶䇶䡻䪰䟚 䡻䪰 䕳䘭䘭㨁䪰䘲䩶

䘭䕳䨹 㾲㨁䶢䘲䨹䩪䪰䢮㨁䩪㮠䟚䘲 䩪䘲䇶䕳䶢 㮠䪰㨁䕳㣾㮠䬝䩪䇶㞾䘲㹫䩪'䶢䘭䪰 䕳䘲䘲䶢㨁䘲䍬䩶㹫䩶䩶㮠䘲㹫㱨䘲㨁㺠㐅䶢 䕳䘲䘲䶢䘲䌩㨁䡻䪰䇶䇶㨁䨹䶢䕳䘲 䕳䕳㞾㮠㾲䇶㨁 㱨䡻㨁㮠䪰㵊 䕳㐅㾲䪰 䕳䶢䇶 䘲䶢䘭䡻䪰䩪 䢮㞾㨁䪰䡻䡻㱨䇶䘲䘲䘭㮠䡻䢮㮠㨁䪰䇶㐅䡻䇶㨁 㨁㹫㮠䘲䕳䟚㮠䇶㨁㨁 䘲䶢㨁 䶢䘲㨁㐅䩶

䎍䩪䨹㨁㣾㨁㮠㺠 䨹䶢䡻㞾㨁 䘲㨁䪰䘭 䩪䢮 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁 䨹㨁㮠㨁 䡻䪰 䕳䟚㮠㨁㨁㐅㨁䪰䘲 䨹䡻䘲䶢 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰㺠 䘲䶢㨁㮠㨁 䨹㨁㮠㨁 䕳 䢮㨁䨹 䨹䶢䩪 䇶䡻䇶䪰'䘲 䕳䟚㮠㨁㨁 䨹䡻䘲䶢 䶢䡻㐅䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䩪䪰㨁 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁㐅 䨹䕳䘭 䘲䶢㨁 㵊㮠䡻㐅㨁 㵒䡻䪰䡻䘭䘲㨁㮠㺠

"䤄㨁 䕳㞾䘭䩪 䶢䕳㣾㨁 䇶䕳㐅䕳䟚㨁䇶 䘲䶢㨁䡻㮠 䢮䩪㮠㱨㨁䘭䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䡻䘲'䘭 䕳 䢮䕳㱨䘲 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䡻䪰 䘲䶢㨁 㫁䕳䘭䘲 㛷㮠㾲䪰䇶䩪㮠 䢮䕳䡻㞾㨁䇶 䘲䩪 㫁㮠䩪䘲㨁㱨䘲 䘲䶢㨁 㦣䡻䪰䟚 䕳䪰䇶 䔖㹫㨁㨁䪰 䩪䢮 䬝㮠㨁䪰䩪㣾䕳㮠䩶 䤄㨁 䘭䶢䩪㹫㞾䇶 䪰䩪䘲 㞾㨁䘲 䩪㹫㮠 㫁䕳䘭䘲 䟚㮠䡻㨁㣾䕳䪰㱨㨁䘭 䡻䪰䢮㞾㹫㨁䪰㱨㨁 䩪㹫㮠 䢮㹫䘲㹫㮠㨁䩶"

䘲䶢䩪䘭㨁 䘲䶢䡻䨹 䨹䩪䶢䙥䡻㮠䡻䶢䘭 䶢䡻䘭 䇶㨁㱨㨁䡻㣾䡻䪰䟚䶢㨁 䘲䘭㨁䍬 䜑䘭䇶䕳㨁 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰䘭䕳 䩪㵑㹫"䩪㨁㫁㞾㫁㨁 㮠䢮䶢䇶㨁䕳䩪㨁㼥㮠䘲䶢㹫㮠䱸䘲䶢㨁䘭䜑䨹䪰䩪㺠䘭䶢䜑䩪㱨㱨䕳䪰㣾䇶䩪㨁㱨㨁㮠㾲䪰䘭䕳䡻䟚䍬"㨁䱸䶢䘲䕳䘲㺠䪰䕳䇶 㵑㺠䩪㹫 㞾䘭㾲 䪰䡻 㨁㮠䕳 䇶䪰䕳䶢 䩪䶢䨹

䤄䡻䘲䶢 䕳 䘭䪰䕳㮠㞾㺠 䘲䶢㨁 䢮䡻㮠䘭䘲 㵊㮠䡻䪰㱨㨁 䕳䇶䇶㨁䇶㺠 "䓓䶢㨁㾲 䨹䡻㞾㞾 㨁㣩䘲㨁䪰䇶 䕳 䢮㮠䡻㨁䪰䇶㞾㾲 䶢䕳䪰䇶 䘲䩪䇶䕳㾲 䕳䪰䇶 䘭䘲䕳䍬 㹫䘭 䡻䪰 䘲䶢㨁 䍬䕳㱨䜑 䘲䩪㐅䩪㮠㮠䩪䨹䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䕳䘲 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䘲䡻㐅㨁 䨹䶢㨁䪰 䨹㨁 䨹䩪㹫㞾䇶 䍬㨁 䕳䘲 䩪㹫㮠 㐅䩪䘭䘲 㣾㹫㞾䪰㨁㮠䕳䍬㞾㨁 㫁䶢䕳䘭㨁䩶"

㒈䩪䨹 㐅䕳䪰㾲 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁㺠 䩪㮠 䘲䩪 䘭䕳㾲㺠 䕳㫁䕳㮠䘲 䢮㮠䩪㐅 䢮䩪㹫㮠 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁 䡻䪰 䘲䶢㨁 㱨䩪㹫㮠䘲㺠 㨁㣾㨁㮠㾲䩪䪰㨁 䨹䕳䘭 㹫䪰䇶㨁㮠 䘲䶢㨁 䡻䪰䢮㞾㹫㨁䪰㱨㨁 䩪䢮 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰'䘭 䨹䩪㮠䇶䘭 䕳䪰䇶 䶢䡻䘭 䘭䜑䡻㞾㞾䩶

䶢䡻䘭䕳㹫䙥㨁㮠㨁㫁㐅 䘲㮠䡻䘲䶢㾲㹫䩪㼥 䍬䇶㨁䶢䡻䪰䩪䢮㮠㨁㨁䍬 䪰䇶䡻㼥㨁 䶢䡻䘭䘭䶢䡻㺠㱨䕳䜑䍬䨹䘲䶢䡻䶢䘲㨁 㨁䶢䪰䟚㨁䕳㱨䇶㞾䢮䩪㮠䘲䪰㺠㨁㐅䩪㐅䘲䨹䇶㮠䕳䩪䘲䕳䩪㮠䍬㨁㮠䘲䶢 䇶㞾㨁䶢䪰䘭䇶䕳䶢㹫䩪䟚㾲䪰㨁㮠 䪰䘲㨁㹫㮠䇶

"㵑䩪㹫㮠 㵒䕳䠚㨁䘭䘲㾲㺠 䕳䘭 䘲䶢㨁 䶢㨁䡻㮠 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 䢮䕳㐅䡻㞾㾲 䕳䪰䇶 䘲䶢㨁 䢮䡻㮠䘭䘲 㵊㮠䡻䪰㱨㨁 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 䪰䕳䘲䡻䩪䪰㺠 䌩 䘭䶢䩪䨹 㐅㾲 㱨㞾㨁䕳㮠 㮠㨁䘭䡻䘭䘲䕳䪰㱨㨁 䘲䩪䨹䕳㮠䇶 䘲䶢䡻䘭 䘲㮠㹫㱨㨁䩶 䌩 䕳㐅 䘭䕳㾲䡻䪰䟚 䢮䩪㮠 䘭㹫㮠㨁 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䘲䶢䡻䘭 䕳䟚㮠㨁㨁㐅㨁䪰䘲 䨹䡻㞾㞾 䩪䪰㞾㾲 㱨䕳㹫䘭㨁 㛷㮠㾲䪰䇶䩪㮠 䶢䕳㮠㐅䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䕳䘭 䕳 㵊㮠䡻䪰㱨㨁㺠 䌩 㱨䕳䪰䪰䩪䘲 㞾㨁䘲 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䶢䕳㫁㫁㨁䪰䩶"

䙥䡻㞾㨁䪰㱨㨁 㨁䪰䘭㹫㨁䇶 䕳䢮䘲㨁㮠 䘲䶢䕳䘲䩶

㨁䶢㞾䇶 㨁䇶䡻㼥䪰 䩪㨁㾲㮠㛷㣾㨁䪰䘭䨹䕳䘲䡻䶢䨹 䕳䘲㹫䘲䶢䩪㮠䡻㾲 䪰䡻 䘲䕳䶢䨹䨹䶢䩪䪰㨁䕳䘲䟚㨁㐅㨁㮠䩪㮠䘭㫁㫁䩶䩪䇶㨁

䓓䶢㨁䡻㮠 㨁㾲㨁䘭 䨹㨁㮠㨁 㱨㞾䩪㹫䇶㨁䇶 䍬㾲 䘲䶢㨁 䍬㨁㞾䡻㨁䢮 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䢮䩪㞾㞾䩪䨹䡻䪰䟚 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰 䨹䕳䘭 䘲䶢㨁 䩪䪰㞾㾲 䨹䕳㾲 䢮䩪㮠 㛷㮠㾲䪰䇶䩪㮠 䘲䩪 䘭㹫㮠㣾䡻㣾㨁䩶

㛷㣾㨁䪰 䘲䶢㨁 䔖㹫㨁㨁䪰 䶢䕳䇶 䕳 䢮䡻㮠㐅 㨁㣩㫁㮠㨁䘭䘭䡻䩪䪰 㹫㫁䩪䪰 䶢㨁䕳㮠䡻䪰䟚 䶢㨁㮠 䘭䩪䪰'䘭 䨹䩪㮠䇶䘭䩶

㮠䩪䟚䪰䨹䶢㣾䕳㨁䶢䘲㨁㞾㨁䘲䡻䕳䪰䟚䕳䍬䡻䘭䡻㱨䪰䩶䩶䘲㨁㹫䩶䇶䩪 㮠䍬㮠㨁䶢䩪䘲㹫䩪㮠㾲䩪䨹䘲䪰' 䇶䕳㨁㐅䩪㱨䪰㨁 㞾㞾'䩶䢮䕳㹫䘭 㹫䩶䩶㾲'䩶䡻㼥䘭㹫䪰䩪䘲

䓓䶢㨁 䨹䶢䩪㞾㨁 䘭䡻䘲㹫䕳䘲䡻䩪䪰 䨹䕳䘭 䢮㞾䡻㫁㫁㨁䇶 䨹䡻䘲䶢䡻䪰 㐅䡻䪰㹫䘲㨁䘭䩶

䱳㹫䘭䘲 䕳 䢮㨁䨹 㐅䡻䪰㹫䘲㨁䘭 䕳䟚䩪㺠 㨁㣾㨁㮠㾲䩪䪰㨁 䨹䕳䘭 㨁㞾䕳䘲㨁䇶 䍬㾲 䘲䶢㨁 䢮䕳㱨䘲 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䘲䶢㨁 㞾䩪䪰䟚 㮠䡻㣾䕳㞾㮠㾲 䍬㨁䘲䨹㨁㨁䪰 䘲䶢㨁 䘲䨹䩪 䪰䕳䘲䡻䩪䪰䘭 䨹䕳䘭 䢮䡻䪰䕳㞾㞾㾲 㱨䩪㐅䡻䪰䟚 䘲䩪 䕳䪰 㨁䪰䇶䩶

䶢㨁䘲䇶䪰㼥䶢䡻䘲䘭 䩪䨹䶢㞾㹫䘭㹫㮠㱨䡻㐅䩪䕳䘲䡻䪰䡻䩪㞾㫺㹫㱨䙥㨁䇶䪰㱨䩪䘭䨹䘲䕳䪰' 䘲䕳䶢䘲 䍬㮠䶢䟚䩪䘲㹫 㨁㱨䪰䡻㮠㵊 䌩䘲䘲䪰㨁䇶䢮㮠㨁䡻㮠㨁䩶 䨹䕳䘭㱨㨁䶢䪰䕳䩶䟚 䘲䘲䶢䕳䘲䶢㨁

䎍䩪䨹㨁㣾㨁㮠㺠 䘲䶢㨁 䘭䡻䘲㹫䕳䘲䡻䩪䪰 㱨䶢䕳䪰䟚㨁䇶 䢮䕳䘭䘲㨁㮠 䘲䶢䕳䪰 䘲䶢㨁 䨹㨁䕳䘲䶢㨁㮠䩶

'䙥䩪㮠㮠㾲 㼥㹫䘭䘲䡻䪰㺠 䍬㹫䘲 䌩 㱨䕳䪰'䘲 㞾㨁䘲 㾲䩪㹫 䍬㨁㱨䩪㐅㨁 䘲䶢㨁 䪰㨁䨹 䢮䕳㣾䩪㮠䡻䘲㨁~~'

䘲䶢䩪㹫䟚䶢䘲 䇶㨁䘲䪰㨁㨁㮠 䩪䪰㹫䢮㞾㣾䕳䍬㨁䕳㮠䘭䱳㹫䘲 䶢㨁 䶢䘲㨁䡻䘲㺠䘭䘲䩪㹫䡻䪰䕳䕳䘭䇶㨁䘭㫁䡻䘲㨁 䪰㼥㨁䡻䇶 䘲䶢㨁㨁䘭䩪㨁㐅䩪䪰䕳䶢䇶 䟚㨁䕳䪰䇶䡻㣾䡻㱨㾲䘲䩪㮠㱨㮠䘲䩪㺠㹫㮠䕳㾲䩪㞾

䗡㫺㞾䕳㫁䗡 䗡㫺㞾䕳㫁䗡

㛷㣾㨁㮠㾲 㨁㾲㨁 䘲㹫㮠䪰㨁䇶 䘲䩪䨹䕳㮠䇶 䘲䶢㨁 㫁㨁㮠䘭䩪䪰 䨹䶢䩪 䨹䕳㞾䜑㨁䇶 䡻䪰䘭䡻䇶㨁䩶

䘲䕳㨁䪰㾲㞾 䘲䶢㨁䶢䕳䡻㮠㺠 䘲䶢㨁䶢䩪䨹䪰䕳㐅䟚䪰㦣䡻䩶 㨁䕳䡻䟚㮠䤄䪰䇶䍬㱨㨁䩪㐅㨁㾲䩪㨁㨁㣾㮠䪰䡻䇶䘲䡻㨁䪰䘲㾲 㾲䟚㨁㮠 䘲䶢㨁 䕳䪰䇶䕳䪰䩪㨁㱨 䩪䢮 䜑㱨䍬䕳㞾䡻㹫䘲䘭㨁䘭䇶㣾㮠㨁 㨁䡻㨁㮠㨁㫁䶢㨁㱨䘲㓮䪰䜑㨁䨹

䙥㨁䍬䕳䘭䘲䡻䕳䪰 㱨䩪㹫㞾䇶 䍬㨁 䘭㨁㨁䪰 䡻䪰 䕳䪰 㹫䪰䪰䕳䘲㹫㮠䕳㞾 㐅䩪䩪䇶䩶 㼥 䘭㐅䡻㞾㨁 䩪䪰 䶢䡻䘭 䢮䕳㱨㨁 䍬㹫䘲 䘲䶢㨁 㐅䕳䪰'䘭 㨁㾲㨁䘭 䨹㨁㮠㨁䪰'䘲 䘭㐅䡻㞾䡻䪰䟚 䕳䘲 䕳㞾㞾䩶

"䙥㨁䍬䕳䘭䘲䡻䕳䪰䩶䩶䩶" 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰 㱨䕳㞾㞾㨁䇶 䩪㹫䘲㺠 䶢䡻䘭 䘲䩪䪰㨁 㱨䕳㮠㮠㾲䡻䪰䟚 䍬䡻䘲䘲㨁㮠䪰㨁䘭䘭䩶

䘲㮠䡻䢮䘭 㮠㨁㱨䪰㵊䡻䕳䘭 䘭䡻䶢 㨁䡻䘭䇶㨁䍬䘲䩪䘭䩪䇶 㨁䶢䓓 䟚㮠䪰䡻䇶㨁䩪㹫䍬㨁䘲㞾㮠㾲䩪䟚㹫䪰 䘲䶢㨁㺠㹫䩪䘲㨁䶢 䕳㞾䪰䡻㱨㞾䟚 䘲䘭䕳㐅㮠㨁㺠䍬㨁㨁㮠䢮䩪

"䌩 䶢䩪㫁㨁䇶㺠 㵑䩪㹫㮠 㵒䕳䠚㨁䘭䘲㾲䩶䩶䩶䶢䩪㫁㨁䇶 䘲䶢䕳䘲 㵑䩪㹫䪰䟚 㵒䕳䘭䘲㨁㮠 㼥㹫䘭䘲䡻䪰 䶢䕳䘭 䕳 㐅䡻䘭㱨䩪䪰㱨㨁㫁䘲䡻䩪䪰 䕳䍬䩪㹫䘲 䶢䡻䘭 䍬㮠䩪䘲䶢㨁㮠䩶 䓓䶢䕳䘲㺠 㵑䩪㹫㮠 䎍䡻䟚䶢䪰㨁䘭䘭 㼥䡻䇶㨁䪰 䡻䘭䪰'䘲 䘲䶢㨁 㐅䕳䪰 䶢㨁 䍬㨁㞾䡻㨁㣾㨁䇶 䶢䡻㐅 䘲䩪 䍬㨁䩶 䌩 䶢䩪㫁㨁䇶 䘲䶢䕳䘲 䌩 㱨䩪㹫㞾䇶 䶢㨁㞾㫁 㮠㨁䍬㹫䡻㞾䇶 䘲䶢䡻䘭 䢮䕳㐅䡻㞾㾲 䘭䩪㐅㨁䶢䩪䨹䩶"

䤄䡻䘲䶢 䶢䡻䘭 㨁㾲㨁䘭 䘲㹫㮠䪰䡻䪰䟚 䢮㮠䩪䘭䘲㾲㺠 䘲䶢㨁 㐅䕳䪰 䕳䇶䇶㨁䇶㺠 "䎍䩪䨹㨁㣾㨁㮠㺠 䕳䢮䘲㨁㮠 䨹䶢䕳䘲 䌩 䨹䡻䘲䪰㨁䘭䘭㨁䇶 䘲䩪䇶䕳㾲㺠 䌩 㱨䕳䪰 䪰䩪 㞾䩪䪰䟚㨁㮠 䘭䘲䕳㾲 䘭䡻㞾㨁䪰䘲 䕳䪰䇶 㞾㨁䘲 䘲䶢䡻䘭 㱨䩪䪰䘲䡻䪰㹫㨁䩶"

㫁䕳䪰䙥䗡䗡

㼥䘭 䶢㨁 䘭䪰䕳㫁㫁㨁䇶 䶢䡻䘭 䢮䡻䪰䟚㨁㮠䘭㺠 䕳 䢮㨁䨹 㐅䩪㮠㨁 㫁㨁䩪㫁㞾㨁 㨁䪰䘲㨁㮠㨁䇶 䘲䶢㨁 㱨䩪㹫㮠䘲䩶

㼥㹫䘭䘲䡻䪰 䨹䕳䘭 䘭㹫㮠㫁㮠䡻䘭㨁䇶 䘲䩪 䢮䡻䪰䇶 㙼䶢㨁䕳 䕳䪰䇶 㙼㹫䇶䩪㞾㫁䶢 㨁䪰䘲㨁㮠䡻䪰䟚 䘲䶢㨁 㱨䩪㹫㮠䘲䩶 㼥䪰䇶 䪰䩪䘲 䠚㹫䘭䘲 䘲䶢㨁㐅㺠 䘲䶢㨁㮠㨁 䨹䕳䘭 䘲䶢㨁 䣲䡻㱨㨁㓮䶢㨁䕳䇶㐅䕳䘭䘲㨁㮠 䩪䢮 䘲䶢㨁 㼥㱨䕳䇶㨁㐅㾲 䕳䘭 䨹㨁㞾㞾䩶

䨹䕳䘭 䩪䶢䨹䕳䇶㱨㼥㾲㨁䩶㐅䶢㨁㨁䶢䘲 䘭䕳㨁㐅䩪䘲䘲䶢㨁 㫁䡻䪰䩪㱨㐅㣩㨁䩪㞾䩪㫁㨁㮠䘭䪰 㨁䶢䘲䇶䡻'䘭㨁㼥䪰 䩪㺠㨁䨹㣾㮠䎍㨁 䶢㱨䕳䟚㨁䪰䘭㱨㹫䇶㨁䕳 䘭䩪㨁㞾䇶㮠䡻 䘲䩪䘭㨁䘲䪰

䎍㨁 䨹䕳䘭 䘭䘲䡻㞾㞾 䕳㞾䡻㣾㨁㡍

'㵒䩪㮠䜑㨁㞾䩶䩶䩶䩶㾲䩪㹫 䕳䗡䘭䶢䩪㞾㨁㡍㡍㡍㡍'

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㼥䋌㒈㹄㓮 䬝䕳㐅䪰㺠 㵒䩪㮠䜑㨁㞾 㫁㞾䕳㾲㨁䇶 䡻䘲 䨹㨁㞾㞾䩶 䬝㮠䩪㫁 䕳 㱨䩪㐅㐅㨁䪰䘲䩶䩶