My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 381: Chapter 381 THAT BITCH FATE

CELESTE’S POV

Even now, the memory was sharp enough to make my stomach twist.

Catherine’s villa in the Maldives had always carried a strange kind of quiet. It wasn’t peaceful. It was the sort of quiet that felt deliberate, like the walls themselves were listening.

The air smelled faintly of salt, drifting in from the ocean cliffs below. In the distance, waves crashed rhythmically against the rocks, the sound muffled through the villa’s thick glass windows.

Inside, everything was immaculate and controlled—polished marble floors, pale stone walls, and long corridors that echoed faintly with every step.

For the past several days, I had been weighing the same thought over and over in my mind.

Leaving.

Catherine’s project had stalled. Weeks of examinations and “energy readings” had produced nothing she seemed satisfied with.

The researchers whispered behind glass partitions, their conversations filled with theories about bloodlines and wolf resonance, but even I could tell the progress she’d promised wasn’t materializing.

Hope was beginning to feel like a leash.

And the longer I stayed there, the clearer it became that Catherine had no intention of letting me walk away freely.

So that afternoon, I went looking for Mother, hoping we could leave together.

Her room was near the eastern wing of the villa, facing the ocean. When I reached the door, it was slightly ajar.

I knocked once.

No answer.

Frowning, I pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting pale lines across the polished floor. A suitcase sat open near the bed, and several folders lay scattered across the small desk near the window.

Just as I was about to leave, I noticed her phone resting on the bedside table.

It began vibrating.

Once. Twice.

The screen lit up.

“Mom…It’s me, Sera.”

My entire body went still.

My fingers curled slowly at my sides as her words filled the room.

“Of course you knew that; you have caller Id. Anyway, um… I just wanted to let you know that I…I’ve had my first full Shift.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard.

The sentence echoed through the quiet bedroom.

Shift.

Sera had shifted.

My mind refused to accept it.

Because at that exact moment, another memory rose with brutal clarity.

Kharis.

The last fading whisper of her presence.

The way her spirit had burned itself away, sacrificed to protect me in that underground hell.

The silence that followed.

My wolf was gone. Maybe forever.

And Sera had just found hers.

Something cold spread through my chest.

I stared at the phone as if it had personally betrayed me. And then I deleted the message.

Fate had already taken everything from me.

Kieran.

My place in the pack.

My reputation.

My freedom.

Kharis.

But apparently that still wasn’t enough.

Now Sera was rising while I had nothing left.

Fate had always favored her.

Somehow, she always came out on top, no matter what I did to keep her down.

Jealousy surged through me so violently it almost made me dizzy.

I couldn’t stay there anymore.

Not after hearing that.

If Sera had found her wolf—if she had grown stronger—then my time was running out.

Catherine would never let me leave. Not willingly.

Which meant I would have to leave without permission.

And that was the moment the idea truly formed in my mind.

Because outside the villa, the sky had already begun to darken.

A storm was approaching.

And storms had a way of distracting people.

It arrived that evening.

Rain slammed against the reinforced windows. Wind howled across the cliffs like a living thing. The facility’s staff rushed to secure the outer laboratories as the tropical system rolled over the island.

Chaos. Distraction. Opportunity.

I slipped out after midnight.

Even now, I could remember the rain soaking through my clothes as I moved along the compound’s perimeter. Every step felt wrong. The world was dull and heavy without Kharis. My senses, weaker. My balance, uncertain.

But desperation pushed me forward.

I bribed a pilot to take me to the nearest coastal town with the last of the money Catherine had allowed me access to.

As the aircraft rose into the violent clouds, I stared down at the dark water and convinced myself everything would work out.

At the time, I truly believed everything would fall back into place once I returned.

When I walked back into their lives, they would see what had happened to me. They would see what I had lost.

Losing my wolf wasn’t something that anyone with a shred of conscience could brush aside.

Surely Ethan would feel responsible.

Surely Kieran would remember everything we had once been to each other.

Looking back now, the thought almost made me laugh.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was so painfully naive.

The truth revealed itself the moment I stepped back into that world.

Sera hadn’t simply changed.

She hadn’t just managed to shift like any other late-blooming wolf.

She was Kieran’s mate.

Fate itself had chosen her.

The realization had felt like the ground shifting under my feet.

As if that wasn’t enough, Brett appeared and got a front row seat to my humiliation.

Now, sitting across from Sera, I felt the weight of that collapse settle over me again.

There was something different about her now. Not just strength. Something steadier than that, something that made it impossible to dismiss her the way I once had.

Ironically, for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the urge to compete with her.

I just felt tired.

“I didn’t lose to you,” I said quietly.

Sera frowned slightly, clearly not expecting that.

“I lost to fate.”

A faint smile touched my lips, though there was no real humor in it.

“That bitch fate,” I murmured, “has always had a soft spot for you.”

***

SERAPHINA’S POV

Something inside me snapped at Celeste’s words.

Before I fully realized what I was doing, I crossed the room and grabbed her by the upper arm.

She jerked in surprise. “What—”

I hauled her to her feet.

The silver cuffs around her wrists clinked sharply as she stumbled forward, her hands still bound together in front of her.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, trying to wrench her arm free.

But I didn’t release her.

Keeping my grip firm on her arm, I pulled her toward the tall mirror beside the bed.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, digging her heels against the floor.

For a moment, she resisted.

But the difference in our strength now was undeniable.

Within seconds, I had dragged her in front of the mirror.

She caught her balance with an irritated breath. The cuffs shifted faintly as she lifted her bound hands.

“Look,” I said.

Celeste glared at our reflections.

Two women stood in the glass.

Two Lockwood daughters.

Similar faces.

But the differences were impossible to ignore.

Celeste’s hair was disheveled. Her wrists were bound in silver. Her proud elegance now looked strained and brittle.

She looked furious. And exhausted.

“You think you’ve lost everything,” I said quietly.

“I have.”

“No.”

My voice sharpened. “Look again.”

She didn’t move.

For a moment, we simply stood there staring at the mirror.

“You lost your wolf,” I continued. “That’s true.”

My eyes met hers in the reflection.

“But before you ever had Kharis…”

The memory surfaced clearly in my mind.

Pack gatherings. Training fields.

Crowds that always seemed to drift toward Celeste like sunlight.

“You were the most cherished princess of the Lockwood family.”

Her jaw tightened slightly.

“You were the one everyone admired,” I went on. “The one people followed. And you still are a Lockwood.”

My voice softened. “If anyone in this world understands how dazzling you once were, Celeste… It’s me.”

Because it was true. Growing up in her shadow, her brightness was all I could see.

Celeste had always been the center of any room.

Confident. Brilliant. Impossible to ignore.

“That confidence of yours,” I said quietly, “was something people couldn’t look away from.”

Her expression flickered.

And suddenly I understood something that had been lingering in the back of my mind since hearing her story.

“That’s why Olivia chose you.”

Celeste went completely still.

I met her gaze in the mirror.

“She saw something worth protecting. She believed helping you escape was worth risking her life.”

For a moment, Celeste said nothing.

Her reflection looked almost…shaken.

“You had a brilliant life once,” I continued quietly. “And you can have it again.”

Her voice came out bitter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

I turned her slightly so she had no choice but to look directly at herself.

“You let yourself sink to this point. No one forced you to become this person.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“But if you want a different life,” I said slowly, “that chance isn’t gone.”

Celeste’s eyes flicked toward me in the mirror.

“The real question is whether you’re willing to open your eyes. To see who actually cares about you. And who’s been manipulating you all along.”

.

老

盧

䡨㒹䢷

䃄㟰㸾㒌䯗㒌䠅㴷䢷㔈㔈

擄

櫓櫓蘆老虜盧䠟㓳㿌 蘆䣀䐍䏌䐍㿌䑩㤛 䣀䐍䇆㓳㴦㑿䣀 䑩䄃䅗䐍㿌 䖷䚝 㤛䑩䣀䅗 䞫㓳㿌㑿䣀㪋 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 䣀䑩䬂㑿 㴦㓳䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉䤺

㜄䐍 䣀䅗㓳㓳㑿 䬂㴦 䄃㿌㓳㴦䅗 㓳䄃 䅗㘫䐍 䖷䬂㿌㿌㓳㿌㪋 䞎㠚䣀䅗 䑩䣀 䉌䐍䄃㓳㿌䐍䤺 䠅䐍㿌 䞫㿌䬂䣀䅗䣀 䞫䐍㿌䐍 䣀䅗䬂㤛㤛 䉌㓳㠚㴦㑿 䉌䚝 䅗㘫䐍 䣀䬂㤛䏌䐍㿌 䇆㠚䄃䄃䣀㪋 䑩㴦㑿 䖷䚝 㘫䑩㴦㑿 䣀䅗䬂㤛㤛 㩉㿌䬂㫵㫵䐍㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䑩㿌䖷 䅗㓳 㵉䐍䐍㫵 㘫䐍㿌 䄃㿌㓳䖷 䅗㠚㿌㴦䬂㴦㩉 䑩䞫䑩䚝䤺

㘫䅗䐍

㑿䐍䅗䇆㵉䬂㘫㴦䐍

㤛䅗䬂㴦㠚

㴦䐍䏌䐍

䅗㘫䐍

䄃㓳

㢿㘫䐍

㠚㑿㓳䤺㤛

㓳㓳䖷㿌

䅗㴦㩉䣀䬂㠚㿌㤛

㴦䑩䄃䬂䅗

䬂㴦

䐍㠚䬂㦺䅗

䣀㿌䑩䬂㴦㠚䇆䅗

䄃䐍㤛䅗

䅗䐍㘫

䃄㴦 䅗㘫䐍 䖷䬂㿌㿌㓳㿌㪋 㓳㠚㿌 㿌䐍䄃㤛䐍䇆䅗䬂㓳㴦䣀 䣀䅗䑩㿌䐍㑿 䉌䑩䇆㵉 䑩䅗 㠚䣀䤺

䃄 䐍䂳㫵䐍䇆䅗䐍㑿 䑩㴦㩉䐍㿌䤺 䱳䐍䄃䬂䑩㴦䇆䐍䤺 㒌㴦㓳䅗㘫䐍㿌 䇆㠚䅗䅗䬂㴦㩉 㿌䐍䖷䑩㿌㵉䤺

㤛㑿䐍䉌䑩䤺

㴦㓳䇆䐍䐍㑿㿌㿌㪋

㘫䑩䅗㢿

䞫䐍㘫㴦

䐍䬂㫵㿌㑿

䐍䉌䐍㴦

䑩

㘫䐍㿌

䞫䑩䤺䚝

䑩㑿㘫

㤛㵉䬂䐍

䚝䑩䣀䑩䞫㤛

䏌㴷㴦䐍

䄃㘫䅗㓳㠚㩉

䐍䄆䐍䅗䣀㟰㤛䣀䐍

䣀䐍㘫

䬂䞫䅗㘫

㪄㠚䅗 䣀㓳䖷䐍䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 䐍㤛䣀䐍 㘫䑩㫵㫵䐍㴦䐍㑿 䬂㴦䣀䅗䐍䑩㑿䤺

䠅䐍㿌 䐍䂳㫵㿌䐍䣀䣀䬂㓳㴦 䇆㿌䑩䇆㵉䐍㑿䤺

䠅䐍㿌

䤺㴦䄃䬂㩉㤛䬂䑩

䅗䣀䬂䄃㿌㪋

䞫䑩䣀

㴦㵉—㑿䇆䑩䉌䑩

䣀䖷䐍䬂䣀㑿

䣀㓳㤛䖷䑩䅗

㿌䐍䐍䞫

䬂㴦㘫䅗䑩㩉䐍㿌䉌

㩉㴦䬂㿌䅗䚝

䐍䅗㘫

䅗䐍㴦䏌㓳䖷䖷䐍

䇆㑿㘫㩉䐍䑩䤺㴦

㒌䅗

䣀㤛䐍䅗䉌㠚

㘫㴦䐍㢿

䄃䬂

䣀㘫䐍

㑿㓳㘫㤛

䣀㓳

䅗䐍䣀䇆㘫

䖷㴦㘫䐍䅗䬂㩉㓳䣀

㓳䐍䣀㿌

䐍㘫㿌

㠚㴦㴦䐍㪋䚝䐍䏌㤛

䣀䑩

䃄

㓳䅗

䬂䅗䤺

㒌 䣀㓳䄃䅗㪋 䣀䅗㿌䑩㴦㩉㤛䐍㑿 䣀㓳㠚㴦㑿 䐍䣀䇆䑩㫵䐍㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䅗㘫㿌㓳䑩䅗䤺

㢿㘫䐍㴦 䅗㘫䐍 䅗䐍䑩㿌䣀 䇆䑩䖷䐍䤺

䐍䚝㢿㘫

䅗㓳㠚㘫䬂䞫䅗

䬂㩉㴦㴦䬂㤛䇆㩉

䣀㘫䐍

䤺䅗㓳

䣀㴦䐍㿌㿌䅗䅗䬂䑩

㩉㘫㓳㘫㠚㿌䅗

㩉䑩䐍㿌㤛䬂䄃

䐍䬂䑩㿌䏌㿌㑿

䑩䉌㵉㿌㩉䐍䬂㴦

䞫㘫㿌䏌䐍䑩䐍䅗

䑩㑿㘫

䞫㴦䬂㿌㪋䑩㴦㩉

㴦䐍䉌䐍

䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 䉌䐍㴦䅗 䄃㓳㿌䞫䑩㿌㑿 䑩䣀 䬂䄃 䣀㓳䖷䐍䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 䬂㴦䣀䬂㑿䐍 㘫䐍㿌 㘫䑩㑿 䣀㴦䑩㫵㫵䐍㑿䤺 䠅䐍㿌 䉌㓳㠚㴦㑿 㘫䑩㴦㑿䣀 㤛䬂䄃䅗䐍㑿 㠚䣀䐍㤛䐍䣀䣀㤛䚝 䅗㓳䞫䑩㿌㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䄃䑩䇆䐍 䑩䣀 䣀㓳䉌䣀 䅗㓳㿌䐍 䅗㘫㿌㓳㠚㩉㘫 㘫䐍㿌 䇆㘫䐍䣀䅗䤺

䃄䅗 䞫䑩䣀 㴦㓳䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䄃䑩㠚䂳 䇆㿌䚝䬂㴦㩉 䣀㘫䐍 㠚䣀㠚䑩㤛㤛䚝 㑿䬂㑿 䅗㓳 㩉䐍䅗 㘫䐍㿌 䞫䑩䚝 䑩㴦㑿 㩉䑩㿌㴦䐍㿌 㫵䬂䅗䚝䤺

䬂㑿㿌㫵䐍

䖷㓳㿌䐍

㢿㘫䬂䣀

䑩䞫䣀

㩉䣀䬂㓳㘫䅗㴦䖷䐍

㴦䑩㑿

䄃䑩㿌

䑩䞫㑿䬂㫵㿌䐍䅗㿌—㫵䣀

䄃㓳

䤺䐍㑿䐍㴦䐍䄃䣀

䠟㓳㿌 䑩 䖷㓳䖷䐍㴦䅗㪋 䃄 㑿䬂㑿 㴦㓳䅗 䖷㓳䏌䐍䤺

㢿㘫䐍 䣀䬂㩉㘫䅗 㫵㠚㤛㤛䐍㑿 䑩䅗 䣀㓳䖷䐍䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 㑿䐍䐍㫵 䬂㴦 䖷䚝 䇆㘫䐍䣀䅗㪋 䚝䐍䅗 㘫䐍䣀䬂䅗䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䄃㓳㤛㤛㓳䞫䐍㑿䤺

䅗㘫䐍

㿌㓳䖷䐍

䐍䚝㿌㴷䏌

㓳㴦䚝㴦䐍䑩

䉌㴦䐍䐍

䃄

㑿㘫䑩

䣀㓳㿌㠚䇆䐍

㤛䐍䐍䤺䣀

䐍䖷

䅗䑩㴦㘫

䐍䅗㘫

䖷䚝

䑩䅗䐍䣀䬂䇆㴦㑿㪋

䬂䑩㫵㴦

䚝㿌䣀䐍䑩

䬂㴦

䐍㵉䐍㫵

䅗㓳

㘫䬂䅗䣀

䏌䐍䐍㤛㫵㓳㑿䐍㑿

䄃㓳

䞫㴦㓳䖷䑩

䣀䬂䅗䬂䇆㴦䅗㴦

㓳䐍䏌㿌

㑿㓳㤛䅗

䐍䑩䐍㠚䉌䇆䣀

䄃㤛䬂䐍

䑩㘫㑿

䚝䖷

䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 㘫䑩㑿 㓳㿌䇆㘫䐍䣀䅗㿌䑩䅗䐍㑿 䅗㘫䐍 㘫㠚䖷䬂㤛䬂䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䅗㘫䑩䅗 䣀㘫䑩䅗䅗䐍㿌䐍㑿 䖷䚝 㿌䐍㫵㠚䅗䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䐍㤛䐍䏌䐍㴦 䚝䐍䑩㿌䣀 䑩㩉㓳䤺 㔈㘫䐍 㘫䑩㑿 䣀㫵䐍㴦䅗 䚝䐍䑩㿌䣀 䇆㠚㤛䅗䬂䏌䑩䅗䬂㴦㩉 㿌䐍䣀䐍㴦䅗䖷䐍㴦䅗 䅗㓳䞫䑩㿌㑿 䖷䐍㪋 䅗䞫䬂䣀䅗䬂㴦㩉 䐍䏌䐍㿌䚝 䣀䖷䑩㤛㤛 䖷䬂䣀䣀䅗䐍㫵 䬂㴦䅗㓳 䑩 䞫䐍䑩㫵㓳㴦䤺

䢷䑩㿌䅗 㓳䄃 䖷䐍 䣀䅗䬂㤛㤛 䇆㤛䐍䑩㿌㤛䚝 㿌䐍䖷䐍䖷䉌䐍㿌䐍㑿 䅗㘫䑩䅗 㩉䬂㿌㤛䤺 㔈䅗䬂㤛㤛 㿌䐍䣀䐍㴦䅗䐍㑿 㘫䐍㿌䤺

㪄㠚䅗

㩉䬂㴦䅗㴦䣀㑿䑩

㵉㤛㑿䐍㓳㓳

㴦䐍㫵㿌䣀㓳䤺

䐍䅗㘫

䐍㘫䅗

䬂㴦

㿌䬂㿌䖷㓳㿌

䞫䖷㴦㓳䑩

䐍㤛㵉䬂

䄃㓳

䅗㿌㴦㓳䄃

㘫䅗䐍

㓳㴦

䣀䖷䑩䐍

㤛㿌䐍㩉㓳㴦

䠅䐍㿌 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䣀 䣀㘫㓳㓳㵉 㠚㴦䇆㓳㴦䅗㿌㓳㤛㤛䑩䉌㤛䚝 䑩䣀 䅗㘫䐍 䣀㓳䉌䣀 㑿䐍䐍㫵䐍㴦䐍㑿䤺 㪄䐍㴦䐍䑩䅗㘫 䅗㘫䐍 䞫㿌䐍䇆㵉䑩㩉䐍 㓳䄃 㘫䐍㿌 䇆㓳䖷㫵㓳䣀㠚㿌䐍㪋 䃄 䣀䐍㴦䣀䐍㑿 䑩 㿌䑩䞫㪋 㑿䬂䣀㓳㿌䬂䐍㴦䅗䐍㑿 䏌㠚㤛㴦䐍㿌䑩䉌䬂㤛䬂䅗䚝 䅗㘫䑩䅗 㘫䑩㑿 䉌䐍䐍㴦 䉌㠚㿌䬂䐍㑿 㠚㴦㑿䐍㿌 㤛䑩䚝䐍㿌䣀 㓳䄃 䑩㿌㿌㓳㩉䑩㴦䇆䐍 䑩㴦㑿 㫵㓳䣀䅗㠚㿌䬂㴦㩉䤺

㢿㘫䐍 䇆㓳㴦㴦䐍䇆䅗䬂㓳㴦 䉌䐍䅗䞫䐍䐍㴦 㠚䣀 䑩䣀 䣀䬂䣀䅗䐍㿌䣀 䇆㓳䖷㫵㤛䬂䇆䑩䅗䐍㑿 䐍䏌䐍㿌䚝䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉䤺

㠚㑿䇆㓳㤛

㴦㓳䐍䑩㤛

㴦㓳䅗

䇆䑩䐍㿌䬂㑿㿌

䑩䅗䅗㘫

䬂㤛㓳㩉䇆

䣀㑿䬂䤺䣀䖷䬂䣀

㩉䅗䬂䞫㘫䐍

㑿㓳㤛㓳㪄

㒌䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䣀䑩䖷䐍 䅗䬂䖷䐍㪋 䑩㴦㓳䅗㘫䐍㿌㪋 㦺㠚䬂䐍䅗䐍㿌 䑩䞫䑩㿌䐍㴦䐍䣀䣀 㩉㠚䬂㑿䐍㑿 䖷䚝 䑩䇆䅗䬂㓳㴦䣀䤺 㢿㘫䐍 㴦䬂㩉㘫䅗 䖷䚝 䉌㓳㴦㑿 䞫䬂䅗㘫 䠋䬂䐍㿌䑩㴦 䑩㴦䇆㘫㓳㿌䐍㑿 䖷䐍 䅗㓳 䅗㘫䐍 䖷㓳㓳㴦㤛䬂㩉㘫䅗㪋 䖷䚝 䖷䐍㴦䅗䑩㤛 䑩䉌䬂㤛䬂䅗䬂䐍䣀 㘫䑩㑿 䣀㘫䑩㿌㫵䐍㴦䐍㑿 䅗㓳 䑩 㑿䐍㩉㿌䐍䐍 䃄 䞫䑩䣀 䣀䅗䬂㤛㤛 㤛䐍䑩㿌㴦䬂㴦㩉 䅗㓳 㠚㴦㑿䐍㿌䣀䅗䑩㴦㑿䤺

㔈㠚䉌䅗㤛䐍 䣀㘫䬂䄃䅗䣀 䬂㴦 䐍䖷㓳䅗䬂㓳㴦䑩㤛 䇆㠚㿌㿌䐍㴦䅗䣀 䉌䐍䇆䑩䖷䐍 䇆㤛䐍䑩㿌䐍㿌䤺 㔈㓳䖷䐍䅗䬂䖷䐍䣀 䅗㘫䐍 䉌㓳㠚㴦㑿䑩㿌䬂䐍䣀 䉌䐍䅗䞫䐍䐍㴦 䅗㘫㓳㠚㩉㘫䅗䣀 䑩㴦㑿 䬂㴦䣀䅗䬂㴦䇆䅗䣀 䉌㤛㠚㿌㿌䐍㑿䤺

䐍䐍䣀㤛䄆䅗䐍

䃄䄃

㴦䣀䅗㩉㘫䬂

㘫䅗䬂䣀

㴦㤛䅗㿌䄃䐍䄃㑿䬂䐍䚝䤺

䑩㑿㤛䐍㴦㑿㘫

䅗㓳

䃄

䐍䣀䐍

㓳䖷䐍䅗䖷㴦

䖷䬂㘫㩉䅗

䅗䇆㓳䚝㪋䇆䐍㿌㿌㤛

㴦䬂䉌㩉䐍

䯗㓳䅗 䬂㴦䣀䅗䑩㴦䅗㤛䚝䤺 䯗㓳䅗 䇆㤛䐍䑩㴦㤛䚝䤺

㪄㠚䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䄃䬂㿌䣀䅗 䇆㿌䑩䇆㵉 㘫䑩㑿 䑩㤛㿌䐍䑩㑿䚝 䄃㓳㿌䖷䐍㑿䤺

㑿䤺䑩䞫㿌㓳䄃㿌

䐍䅗䐍䣀㑿㫵㫵

䃄

㜄㘫䐍㴦 䖷䚝 䑩㿌䖷䣀 䞫㿌䑩㫵㫵䐍㑿 䑩㿌㓳㠚㴦㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䣀㪋 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 䄃㿌㓳䳉䐍 䬂㴦 䣀㘫㓳䇆㵉䤺

䠟㓳㿌 䑩 㘫䐍䑩㿌䅗䉌䐍䑩䅗㪋 䣀㘫䐍 㑿䬂㑿 㴦㓳䅗 㿌䐍䑩䇆䅗䤺 㢿㘫䐍㴦 㘫䐍㿌 䉌㓳㑿䚝 䇆㓳㤛㤛䑩㫵䣀䐍㑿 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䣀䅗 䖷䐍 䑩䣀 䅗㘫㓳㠚㩉㘫 䅗㘫䐍 㤛䑩䣀䅗 䣀㠚㫵㫵㓳㿌䅗 㘫㓳㤛㑿䬂㴦㩉 㘫䐍㿌 㠚㫵㿌䬂㩉㘫䅗 㘫䑩㑿 䏌䑩㴦䬂䣀㘫䐍㑿䤺

㢿㘫䐍

䑩䣀

䇆䄃㠚䣀䄃

䣀䬂䐍㑿㪋

䐍㑿䣀䐍㿌㫵䣀

㴦㑿㘫䣀䑩

㓳䉌䣀䣀

㑿㴦䇆䐍䬂㤛㵉

㓳䣀䄃䅗㤛䚝

䞫㿌䬂䣀䅗䣀

䄃㓳䐍䞫㤛㤛㑿㓳

䣀㿌䤺㿌䑩㘫㘫䐍

䑩䅗㘫䅗

䐍䅗㘫

㘫㿌䐍

䐍㘫㿌

㿌䐍䏌䣀㤛䬂

䑩㩉䣀䬂䑩䅗㴦

㴦䉌䐍䞫䐍䐍䅗

㿌㩉䐍䞫

䑩㴦㑿

䖷䚝

䆉䃄㟰䖷 䣀㓳 䅗䬂㿌䐍㑿㪋䳵 䣀㘫䐍 䞫㘫䬂䣀㫵䐍㿌䐍㑿 㘫㓳䑩㿌䣀䐍㤛䚝 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䣀䅗 䖷䚝 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䤺

䠅䐍㿌 䏌㓳䬂䇆䐍 䣀㓳㠚㴦㑿䐍㑿 䄃㿌䑩㩉䬂㤛䐍 䬂㴦 䑩 䞫䑩䚝 䃄 㘫䑩㑿 㴦䐍䏌䐍㿌 㘫䐍䑩㿌㑿 䉌䐍䄃㓳㿌䐍䤺

㿌㓳䣀䖷䅗

㴦㓳䐍

㓳䄃

㴦䐍㤛㩉䅗䚝

䐍㘫㿌

䤺䅗㠚㓳

䐍㑿㿌䣀䅗䐍

㓳䅗

䑩䉌䇆㵉

䣀䑩

䄃㓳

㴦䣀㓳䬂䅗㓳䖷䐍

㑿㴦㘫䑩

䐍㑿䑩㪋㘫

䐍㘫㿌

㓳㴦㴦㠚䬂䐍䇆䅗㑿

㘫䐍䅗

㴦䣀䅗㩉䑩䬂䑩

䣀䅗㩉䚝䐍㴦䑩㑿䬂

䃄

㘫䅗䐍

㫵㿌㠚㓳

㢿䬂䖷䐍 㫵䑩䣀䣀䐍㑿 䣀㤛㓳䞫㤛䚝 䞫㘫䬂㤛䐍 䣀㘫䐍 䇆㿌䬂䐍㑿䤺

㴷䏌䐍㴦䅗㠚䑩㤛㤛䚝 㘫䐍㿌 䏌㓳䬂䇆䐍 㿌䐍䅗㠚㿌㴦䐍㑿㪋 㦺㠚䬂䐍䅗䐍㿌 䑩㴦㑿 䖷㓳㿌䐍 㠚㴦䇆䐍㿌䅗䑩䬂㴦䤺

䆉㔈䐍䤺㿌䑩䳵

䆉㽘䐍䣀㨝䳵

䠅䐍㿌 䄃䬂㴦㩉䐍㿌䣀 䇆㠚㿌㤛䐍㑿 䞫䐍䑩㵉㤛䚝 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䣀䅗 䖷䚝 䣀㤛䐍䐍䏌䐍㪋 䅗㘫䐍 䖷䐍䅗䑩㤛 㓳䄃 䅗㘫䐍 䇆㠚䄃䄃䣀 䉌㿌㠚䣀㘫䬂㴦㩉 䣀㓳䄃䅗㤛䚝 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䣀䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䄃䑩䉌㿌䬂䇆䤺

䅗䬂㤛㤛䣀

㓳䆉䱳

䇆㘫䐍㴦㨝䑩䇆䳵

䏌䐍㘫䑩

䃄

䑩

㢿㘫䐍 㦺㠚䐍䣀䅗䬂㓳㴦 䖷䑩㑿䐍 䖷䚝 䉌㿌䐍䑩䅗㘫 䇆䑩䅗䇆㘫䤺

䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 㤛䬂䄃䅗䐍㑿 㘫䐍㿌 㘫䐍䑩㑿 䣀㤛䬂㩉㘫䅗㤛䚝㪋 㘫䐍㿌 䅗䐍䑩㿌䱀䣀䅗㿌䐍䑩㵉䐍㑿 䄃䑩䇆䐍 䣀䐍䑩㿌䇆㘫䬂㴦㩉 䖷䬂㴦䐍 䑩䣀 䬂䄃 䅗㘫䐍 䑩㴦䣀䞫䐍㿌 䖷䬂㩉㘫䅗 㑿䐍䇆䬂㑿䐍 䅗㘫䐍 䇆㓳㠚㿌䣀䐍 㓳䄃 䅗㘫䐍 㿌䐍䣀䅗 㓳䄃 㘫䐍㿌 㤛䬂䄃䐍䤺

䆉䃄

䅗㿌䐍㿌䐍㩉

䐍㴦㪋䐍㤛䏌㴦㠚䚝

㿌䐍䏌䐍㘫䤺㴦䅗䳵䚝㩉䬂

䤺䣀㫵㵉䐍䑩

㿌䐍㿌䅗㩉䐍

㘫䣀䅗䇆䐍䤺

㘫䣀䐍

䇆䑩䐍䖷

㓳㤛䇆㑿㠚

䞫㓳䣀㑿㿌

㿌䐍㘫

䣀㴦㑿䬂䐍䬂

㠚㓳䅗

㿌䖷䄃㓳

㪋䅗䳵䬂

䃄

㢿㘫䐍

䉌㓳䐍䐍䄃㿌

㤛㤛䐍㫵㠚㑿

䃄䆉

䣀䐍䐍㿌䐍㓳䞫䖷㘫

㑿䬂䑩䣀

㑿㫵䐍䐍

䠅䐍㿌 㩉䑩䳉䐍 㑿㿌㓳㫵㫵䐍㑿 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䤺

䆉䃄 㿌䐍㩉㿌䐍䅗 䞫㘫䑩䅗 䃄 㑿䬂㑿 䅗㓳 䚝㓳㠚䤺 䃄 㿌䐍㩉㿌䐍䅗 䇆㘫䑩䣀䬂㴦㩉 䠋䬂䐍㿌䑩㴦 䑩䣀 䬂䄃 䞫䬂㴦㴦䬂㴦㩉 㘫䬂䖷 䞫㓳㠚㤛㑿 䣀㓳㤛䏌䐍 䐍䏌䐍㿌䚝䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉䤺 䃄 㿌䐍㩉㿌䐍䅗 㫵㠚䣀㘫䬂㴦㩉 㪄㿌䐍䅗䅗 䑩䞫䑩䚝䤺 䃄 㿌䐍㩉㿌䐍䅗…䑩㤛㤛 㓳䄃 䬂䅗䤺䳵

䐍㑿䄃㿌䑩㤛䅗䐍

㴦䬂䅗㴦㩉䤺䬂㴦㓳䇆㠚

㓳䇆䐍䏌䬂

䄃䐍㿌䐍䉌㓳

䐍㿌䠅

䆉㤯㓳䣀䅗 㓳䄃 䑩㤛㤛㪋 䃄 㿌䐍㩉㿌䐍䅗 䣀䐍䑩㤛䬂㴦㩉 䠋㘫䑩㿌䬂䣀 䑩䞫䑩䚝䤺䳵

䃄 䄃䐍㤛䅗 㘫䐍㿌 䉌㓳㑿䚝 䅗䐍㴦䣀䐍 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦 䑩䣀 䄃㿌䐍䣀㘫 䅗䐍䑩㿌䣀 䣀㤛䬂㫵㫵䐍㑿 㑿㓳䞫㴦 㘫䐍㿌 䄃䑩䇆䐍䤺

䑩㵉䳵㪋䉌䇆

䐍䄆㤛䐍䅗䐍䣀

䃄䆉

䑩䞫㴦䅗

䐍䐍㘫䤺㿌䞫䬂㑿㫵䣀

䐍㿌㘫

㢿㘫䐍 䇆㓳㴦䄃䐍䣀䣀䬂㓳㴦 䇆䑩㿌㿌䬂䐍㑿 䑩 㫵䑩䬂㴦䄃㠚㤛 䣀䬂㴦䇆䐍㿌䬂䅗䚝 䅗㘫䑩䅗 䖷䑩㑿䐍 䖷䚝 䇆㘫䐍䣀䅗 䅗䬂㩉㘫䅗䐍㴦䤺

“䃄 㵉㴦㓳䞫 䃄 㿌㠚䬂㴦䐍㑿 䐍䏌䐍㿌䚝䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 䐍㤛䣀䐍㪋” 䣀㘫䐍 䇆㓳㴦䅗䬂㴦㠚䐍㑿 㦺㠚䬂䐍䅗㤛䚝䤺 “䯗㓳 㓳㴦䐍 䞫㓳㠚㤛㑿 䅗㿌㠚䣀䅗 䖷䐍 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦 䑩䄃䅗䐍㿌 䞫㘫䑩䅗 䃄㟰䏌䐍 㑿㓳㴦䐍䤺 㤯䑩䚝䉌䐍 䃄 㑿䐍䣀䐍㿌䏌䐍 䅗㘫䑩䅗䤺 㪄㠚䅗 䠋㘫䑩㿌䬂䣀…”

䅗䑩䐍䣀㤛

䐍䠅㿌

䑩㴦

㓳䇆䏌䬂䐍

䐍䣀䐍䐍㿌㑿䣀䏌

䣀㘫䐍

㤛䑩㩉㫵䚝䳵㓳㓳䤺

㒌䅗䆉

㵉㓳㿌䉌䐍䤺

㤯䚝 䅗㘫㓳㠚㩉㘫䅗䣀 䣀䅗䬂㤛㤛䐍㑿䤺

䠟㿌㓳䖷 䅗㘫䐍 䄃㿌䑩㩉䖷䐍㴦䅗䣀 㓳䄃 䖷䐍䖷㓳㿌䚝 䃄 㩉㤛䬂䖷㫵䣀䐍㑿 䐍䑩㿌㤛䬂䐍㿌 䅗㘫㿌㓳㠚㩉㘫 䖷䚝 㫵䣀䚝䇆㘫䬂䇆 䬂㴦䅗䐍㿌㿌㓳㩉䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦㪋 䃄 䑩㤛㿌䐍䑩㑿䚝 㵉㴦䐍䞫 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍㟰䣀 䣀䬂䅗㠚䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䞫䑩䣀 㴦㓳䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䣀䑩䖷䐍 䑩䣀 䖷䬂㴦䐍 㘫䑩㑿 䉌䐍䐍㴦 䞫䬂䅗㘫 㒌㤛䬂㴦䑩䤺

䧠䐍䂳䣀䅗䬂

䑩㴦㑿

䐍䐍㑿㫵

䐍㘫䅗

䚝䖷

㴦䐍䐍䏌㿌

䐍䖷㪋

㿌㠚䣀㓳㫵㫵䅗

㘫䣀䐍

㩉䞫䬂䬂䅗䑩㴦

䑩㘫㑿

䅗㿌䚝㤛㠚

䐍㘫㿌

䑩㤛䬂㒌㴦

䑩㑿㘫

䐍䖷㴦䅗㓳䖷

䅗㠚㴦䬂㤛

㿌㿌䑩䐍䐍㑿䐍䅗䅗

䅗䣀䬂㿌䬂㫵

㑿㤛䇆㓳㠚

䐍䐍䇆㑿䑩䣀

㴦䬂䅗䬂㘫䞫

䅗㓳

㑿䚝㓳䉌

㿌㿌䅗㠚䐍㴦䤺

䠋㘫䑩㿌䬂䣀㟰䣀 䣀䑩䇆㿌䬂䄃䬂䇆䐍 㘫䑩㑿 䉌䐍䐍㴦 㑿䬂䄃䄃䐍㿌䐍㴦䅗䤺

䠅䐍㿌 㤛䑩䣀䅗 䖷㓳䖷䐍㴦䅗䣀 㘫䑩㑿 䉌䐍䐍㴦 䑩㴦 䑩䇆䅗 㓳䄃 㑿䐍䣀㫵䐍㿌䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䬂㴦䣀䬂㑿䐍 䅗㘫䐍 㑿䑩㿌㵉㴦䐍䣀䣀 㓳䄃 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍㟰䣀 䇆䑩㫵䅗䬂䏌䬂䅗䚝㪋 䑩 䄃䬂㴦䑩㤛 䣀㠚㿌㩉䐍 㓳䄃 䣀䅗㿌䐍㴦㩉䅗㘫 䅗㘫䑩䅗 䉌㠚㿌㴦䐍㑿 䬂䅗䣀䐍㤛䄃 䑩䞫䑩䚝 䅗㓳 㫵㿌㓳䅗䐍䇆䅗 㘫䐍㿌䤺

䳵㴦䑩䚝䅗㴦㩉㘫䬂㪋

䐍㿌䖷䬂㓳㫵䣀

䑩’䇆㴦䅗

䃄

䆉䃄

䑩䣀㑿䬂

䇆䑩䚝㿌䐍䤺㤛䄃㠚㤛

䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍㟰䣀 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䣀 䣀䅗䬂䄃䄃䐍㴦䐍㑿䤺

䆉㪄㠚䅗 㴦䐍䏌䐍㿌 㩉䬂䏌䐍 㠚㫵 㘫㓳㫵䐍䤺䳵

䑩䄃䇆䐍

㴦㓳䅗

㘫䅗䅗䑩

䐍䚝䐍䣀

䐍䅗䚝䖷㫵

䐍㑿䬂䅗㤛䄃

㓳䐍㩉㴦䬂㿌䄃䄃

䞫䑩䣀

䖷䚝

㩉䬂㘫䑩㿌䇆㴦䐍䣀

㓳㿌䅗䖷㓳䄃䤺䇆

䬂㓳㴦䑩䄃㿌㴦㓳䖷䅗䇆䬂

䃄

䠅䐍㿌

䄃㓳㿌

䬂㫵䖷䚝㤛䣀

䬂䑩㪋䑩㩉㴦

㔈㤛㓳䞫㤛䚝㪋 䃄 䑩㤛㤛㓳䞫䐍㑿 䖷䚝 䑩䞫䑩㿌䐍㴦䐍䣀䣀 䅗㓳 㑿㿌䬂䄃䅗 㓳㠚䅗䞫䑩㿌㑿㪋 䑩㴦㑿 䃄 㿌䐍䑩䇆㘫䐍㑿 䅗㓳䞫䑩㿌㑿 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 䇆䑩㠚䅗䬂㓳㠚䣀㤛䚝䤺

䠅䐍㿌 䖷䐍㴦䅗䑩㤛 㤛䑩㴦㑿䣀䇆䑩㫵䐍 䞫䑩䣀 㠚㴦䣀䅗䑩䉌㤛䐍㪋 㿌䬂㑿㑿㤛䐍㑿 䞫䬂䅗㘫 䄃㿌䑩䇆䅗㠚㿌䐍䣀 䑩㴦㑿 䣀䇆䑩㿌䣀 㤛䐍䄃䅗 䉌䐍㘫䬂㴦㑿 䉌䚝 䄆䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦䐍㟰䣀 䬂㴦䅗䐍㿌䄃䐍㿌䐍㴦䇆䐍䤺

㘫䖷䅗䐍

㿌䐍㘫

㴦㑿䣀䐍䑩䅗䃄

㫵䬂㩉㿌㓳䉌㴦

䇆䅗㠚䣀㴦䐍㿌㿌

㤛䖷䇆䑩

䚝䞫䑩

䐍㴦䣀䖷㪋㓳䬂䅗㓳

䄃㓳

䃄

䐍䞫䤺㿌䑩䅗

㪋䐍㑿㿌㫵䐍䐍

䐍䅗㘫

䑩䣀㠚㿌䄃䇆䐍

㴦㓳䐍

㿌䐍㠚䅗䣀䬂㑿㑿䉌

㴦㓳

䬂䖷䅗㩉㘫

䣀㑿㠚䄃㓳䐍䇆

㓳䄃

㩉㩉䬂䬂㠚㴦㑿

䐍䅗㘫

䠅䐍㿌 䉌㿌䐍䑩䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 䉌䐍㩉䑩㴦 䅗㓳 䣀㤛㓳䞫䤺

㢿㘫䐍 䅗䐍㴦䣀䬂㓳㴦 䬂㴦 㘫䐍㿌 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䣀 㩉㿌䑩㑿㠚䑩㤛㤛䚝 䣀㓳䄃䅗䐍㴦䐍㑿 䑩䣀 䅗㘫䐍 㓳䏌䐍㿌䞫㘫䐍㤛䖷䬂㴦㩉 䣀㠚㿌㩉䐍 㓳䄃 㩉㿌䬂䐍䄃 䐍䑩䣀䐍㑿 䬂㴦䅗㓳 䣀㓳䖷䐍䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 㦺㠚䬂䐍䅗䐍㿌䤺

㽘㠚䆉㓳

䃄

㑿㿌㿌㠚䤺㠚䖷䖷䐍

㿌䅗㪋䐍䣀䳵

㠚䣀㑿㓳㤛㘫

䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 䉌㤛䬂㴦㵉䐍㑿 䣀㤛㓳䞫㤛䚝䤺

䆉䃄㟰䖷 䐍䂳㘫䑩㠚䣀䅗䐍㑿㪋䳵 䣀㘫䐍 䑩㑿䖷䬂䅗䅗䐍㑿䤺

䆉䃄

㴦䞫䤺㵉㓳䳵

㢿㘫䐍 㩉䐍㴦䅗㤛䐍 㫵㿌䐍䣀䣀㠚㿌䐍 㓳䄃 䖷䚝 㫵䣀䚝䇆㘫䬂䇆 䬂㴦䄃㤛㠚䐍㴦䇆䐍 䇆㓳㴦䅗䬂㴦㠚䐍㑿 䅗㓳 㩉㠚䬂㑿䐍 㘫䐍㿌 䅗㓳䞫䑩㿌㑿 䣀㤛䐍䐍㫵䤺 㜄䬂䅗㘫䬂㴦 䖷㓳䖷䐍㴦䅗䣀㪋 㘫䐍㿌 䐍䚝䐍㤛䬂㑿䣀 㩉㿌䐍䞫 㘫䐍䑩䏌䚝㪋 䑩㴦㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䉌㓳㑿䚝 䣀䑩㩉㩉䐍㑿 䑩㩉䑩䬂㴦䣀䅗 䖷䐍 䑩䣀 䇆㓳㴦䣀䇆䬂㓳㠚䣀㴦䐍䣀䣀 䣀㤛䬂㫵㫵䐍㑿 䑩䞫䑩䚝䤺

㴷䅗㘫䑩㴦 䞫䑩䣀 䑩䅗 䖷䚝 䣀䬂㑿䐍 䬂㴦 䑩 䄃㤛䑩䣀㘫㪋 㩉䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦㩉 㘫䐍㿌 䬂㴦䅗㓳 㘫䬂䣀 䑩㿌䖷䣀䤺

䐍䠅

䐍㿌㘫

㘫䅗䐍

䐍䬂䅗䖷

㤛䑩䐍䚝㿌㑿䑩

㠚䅗㑿㘫㓳䐍䇆

䣀㘫䐍

䚝㪄

䣀㫵㩉㴦㠚䅗㓳㫵䬂㿌

䐍㴦䅗䤺㩉䚝㤛

䐍㘫䅗

䐍㪋䉌㑿

䐍㘫䑩㑿

㤛䞫䬂㪋㫵㤛㓳

㘫㿌䐍

㿌䑩㿌䬂䇆㑿䐍

䣀䑩䞫

㓳䅗

㘫䐍䅗

䤺䑩䣀䐍䐍㫵㤛

䐍㘫㿌

䠟㓳㿌 䑩 䖷㓳䖷䐍㴦䅗㪋 䃄 䣀䅗㓳㓳㑿 䅗㘫䐍㿌䐍 䞫䑩䅗䇆㘫䬂㴦㩉 㘫䐍㿌䤺 㜄䬂䅗㘫㓳㠚䅗 䅗㘫䐍 䅗䐍㴦䣀䬂㓳㴦 䅗㘫䑩䅗 㠚䣀㠚䑩㤛㤛䚝 㘫䑩㿌㑿䐍㴦䐍㑿 㘫䐍㿌 䄃䐍䑩䅗㠚㿌䐍䣀㪋 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍 㤛㓳㓳㵉䐍㑿 䣀䅗㿌䑩㴦㩉䐍㤛䚝 䚝㓳㠚㴦㩉䐍㿌㪋 䑩䣀 䬂䄃 䅗㘫䐍 䚝䐍䑩㿌䣀 㓳䄃 䉌䬂䅗䅗䐍㿌㴦䐍䣀䣀 㘫䑩㑿 䉌㿌䬂䐍䄃㤛䚝 㤛䬂䄃䅗䐍㑿䤺

䆉䱳㓳 䚝㓳㠚 䅗㘫䬂㴦㵉 䅗㘫䑩䅗 䞫䑩䣀 䑩㴦㓳䅗㘫䐍㿌 㫵䐍㿌䄃㓳㿌䖷䑩㴦䇆䐍㨝䳵 㘫䐍 䖷㠚㿌䖷㠚㿌䐍㑿䤺

䣀䆉㘫㔈㟰䐍

䃄

䐍䚝㩉䬂䐍㠚㤛㴦㴦

䚝䖷

㴦䐍㵉䤺㓳㿌䉌䳵

䑩㑿㘫䤺䐍

㓳㘫䣀㵉㓳

䃄 䅗㠚㿌㴦䐍㑿 䅗㓳 㘫䬂䖷䤺 䆉㔈㘫䐍 㴦䐍䐍㑿䣀 㠚䣀䤺䳵

䆉䠅㓳䞫 䇆䑩㴦 䚝㓳㠚…” 䠅䬂䣀 䞎䑩䞫 䄃㤛䐍䂳䐍㑿䤺 “㔈㘫䐍 㘫㠚㿌䅗 䚝㓳㠚 䣀㓳 䉌䑩㑿㤛䚝䤺䳵

䣀䅗䬂㟰

㤯䚝䆉䑩䐍䉌

䃄

䑩

䃄

䤺䐍㩉㘫䬂㑿䣀

㤛䉌㓳䤺㓳㑿

䤺㤛㓳䄃㓳䳵

㴦㟰㑿䅗㓳

䣀䆉䅗䚝㤛䐍㴦䠅㓳㪋

㤯䐍䉌䚝䑩

䃄㟰䖷

㿌㑿㘫㩉㠚䐍䣀䤺㩉

䬂䣀䅗㟰

䚝䑩㫵㘫䖷䐍䅗䤺䳵

䑩㤯䐍䉌䚝

䃄

䞫㓳䤺㵉㴦

㠚䣀䅗䞎

㴷䅗㘫䑩㴦 䞫㿌䑩㫵㫵䐍㑿 䑩㴦 䑩㿌䖷 䑩㿌㓳㠚㴦㑿 䖷䚝 䣀㘫㓳㠚㤛㑿䐍㿌䤺 䆉㜄䐍 㑿㓳㴦㟰䅗 㑿䐍䣀䐍㿌䏌䐍 䚝㓳㠚䤺䳵

䃄 䖷䑩㴦䑩㩉䐍㑿 䑩 䣀䖷䑩㤛㤛 䣀䖷䬂㤛䐍䤺

㑿䣀䑩䬂㪋

㓳䐍䣀䖷

䐍䣀㴦㑿

㩉”䐍䅗

䉌㠚㓳䑩䅗

䐍㠚㫵㑿䑩䅗䣀

䮂䆉㓳

㪋”㓳㘫䐍䖷

㴦䑩㑿

㤛㤛㟰䃄

䐍䣀䅗䤺㿌

㿌㘫䐍

㘫䐍

㓳䚝㠚

䅗䑩䚝䣀

㤯㓳䅗䤺䐍㘫䳵㿌

䞫䬂䅗㘫

䃄 㩉䑩䏌䐍 䑩 䣀䖷䑩㤛㤛 㴦㓳㑿 䉌䐍䄃㓳㿌䐍 㤛䐍䑩䏌䬂㴦㩉 䅗㘫䐍 㿌㓳㓳䖷䤺

㢿㘫䐍 㘫䑩㤛㤛䞫䑩䚝 㓳㠚䅗䣀䬂㑿䐍 䞫䑩䣀 㑿䬂䖷㤛䚝 㤛䬂䅗㪋 䑩㴦㑿 䅗㘫䐍 㦺㠚䬂䐍䅗 㓳䄃 䅗㘫䐍 䠟㿌㓳䣀䅗䉌䑩㴦䐍 㿌䐍䣀䬂㑿䐍㴦䇆䐍 㘫䑩㑿 㑿䐍䐍㫵䐍㴦䐍㑿 䑩䣀 䅗㘫䐍 㴦䬂㩉㘫䅗 䣀䅗㿌䐍䅗䇆㘫䐍㑿 㓳㴦䞫䑩㿌㑿䤺

㘫䞫䬂䅗

㑿㠚㓳㴦䄃

䉌䑩㤛䐍䅗

䉌䐍䐍䬂䣀㑿

䬂㓳㓳㿌㪋䇆㿌㿌㑿

㴦䱳䞫㓳

䚝䑩䑩㪋㤯

䅗㘫䐍

䄆㴦䬂㓳㿌㪋

䬂㪋䬂䣀㴦䐍㑿

㿌䑩䅗㩉䐍䚝䅗䣀

㿌㓳㓳䖷

㿌䅗㪄䐍䅗㪋

䬂䬂㤛㤛㪋䐍㠚䅗䑩䖷㴦㑿

㴦䞫㘫䐍

㘫䅗䐍

㑿䑩㴦

䑩㑿㴦

㴦㩉䣀䅗䑩䬂㑿㴦

䬂㴦䑩䖷䐍䐍㑿㿌

䣀䬂㤯䑩㿌䤺

䠋䐍䬂㴦䑩㿌

䃄

䐍㑿㫵䣀㫵䅗䐍

䅗㘫䐍

䠋䬂䐍㿌䑩㴦 䇆㿌㓳䣀䣀䐍㑿 䅗㘫䐍 㿌㓳㓳䖷 䬂䖷䖷䐍㑿䬂䑩䅗䐍㤛䚝䤺

䠅䬂䣀 㘫䑩㴦㑿 䇆㤛㓳䣀䐍㑿 䑩㿌㓳㠚㴦㑿 䖷䬂㴦䐍㪋 䞫䑩㿌䖷 䑩㴦㑿 䣀䅗䐍䑩㑿䚝䤺 䆉㒌㿌䐍 䚝㓳㠚 䑩㤛㿌䬂㩉㘫䅗㨝䳵

䬂䣀㘫

䃄

䄃䐍䬂䤺㴦䳵

㑿䑩䤺㘫㴦

䖷㟰䆉䃄

㦺㠚䳉䣀㑿䐍䐍䐍

䄆㓳㿌䬂㴦 䞫䑩䅗䇆㘫䐍㑿 䖷䐍 䅗㘫㓳㠚㩉㘫䅗䄃㠚㤛㤛䚝 䄃㿌㓳䖷 䑩䇆㿌㓳䣀䣀 䅗㘫䐍 䅗䑩䉌㤛䐍䤺 䆉䱳䬂㑿 䚝㓳㠚 㤛䐍䑩㿌㴦 䑩㴦䚝䅗㘫䬂㴦㩉 㴦䐍䞫㨝䳵

䆉㽘䐍䣀䤺䳵

㑿㿌䐍䞫

䑩䅗䐍㘫䤺䉌㿌

䑩

㤛䣀㓳䞫

䆉䄆䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦䐍 䑩㤛䅗䐍㿌䐍㑿 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍㟰䣀 䖷䬂㴦㑿䤺䳵

㤯䑩䚝䑩 䄃㿌㓳䞫㴦䐍㑿 䣀㤛䬂㩉㘫䅗㤛䚝䤺 䆉㽘㓳㠚 䖷䐍䑩㴦 䅗㘫䐍 䉌㤛㓳䇆㵉䐍㑿 䖷䐍䖷㓳㿌䬂䐍䣀㨝䳵

“㪋䅗䬂

㿌㑿䅗㠚䣀㴦䐍㑿㓳㓳

䣀䬂

㓳䄃

“㘫㢿䑩䅗

㿌䣀㠚㴦

䐍䑩㿌

䅗䖷䐍㘫

䐍㘫䏌㜄㿌㓳䐍

㫵䤺䐍㤛㿌㑿䐍䬂

䐍㢿㘫

㑿䤺䐍䐍㫵䐍㿌

䐍䐍䚝䂳㿌䐍䅗㤛䖷

㓳㿌㠚㑿䇆䐍䅗䅗㴦䇆䣀

䑩䣀㤛䐍䣀

㪄”䅗㠚

䑩䖷㓳㴦䑩䬂㠚㴦㫵䬂㤛䅗

䅗䐍㘫

䅗䑩㿌㫵

㫵䬂䇆䐍䤺䣀㿌䐍

㑿䤺䑩䐍䬂”㤛䅗

䐍䅗㓳㘫䣀

㓳䅗㩉䇆䐍㿌䅗㫵㴦䬂

䣀㫵䚝㘫䇆䇆䬂

㓳䖷䖷䣀㿌䐍䐍䬂

㠚㿌㠚䅗䣀䅗䇆㿌䐍䣀

㴦䬂

䆉䄆䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦䐍㪋䳵 㪄㿌䐍䅗䅗 䖷㠚䅗䅗䐍㿌䐍㑿䤺

䆉㽘䐍䣀䤺䳵

䤺䖷䑩㿌䣀

䃄

㪄䆉䅗㠚

㤛㓳㑿㑿䄃䐍

䐍䅗䐍㿌㘫

䣀䬂

䣀䐍㤛䤺䐍䳵

䖷䐍㘫㩉㓳䅗㴦䣀䬂

䖷䚝

㴷䏌䐍㿌䚝㓳㴦䐍 䞫䑩䅗䇆㘫䐍㑿 䖷䐍 䇆㤛㓳䣀䐍㤛䚝䤺

䆉㜄㘫䐍㴦 䃄 䐍䂳䑩䖷䬂㴦䐍㑿 䄆䐍㤛䐍䣀䅗䐍㟰䣀 䖷䬂㴦㑿 䐍䑩㿌㤛䬂䐍㿌㪋 䃄 䣀䐍㴦䣀䐍㑿 䖷㓳㿌䐍 䅗㘫䑩㴦 䣀䐍䑩㤛䐍㑿 䖷䐍䖷㓳㿌䬂䐍䣀䤺 㢿㘫䐍㿌䐍 䬂䣀…䑩㴦 䑩䉌䣀䐍㴦䇆䐍䤺䳵

䄆㓳䣀㿌㴦䬂㟰

䤺䐍㴦䑩㿌㫵㘫䣀㑿䐍

㩉䐍䳉䑩

䆉㒌㴦 䑩䉌䣀䐍㴦䇆䐍 㓳䄃 䞫㘫䑩䅗㨝䳵

䆉䢷㓳䞫䐍㿌䤺䳵

㘫㤛䄃䐍㑿䑩䣀

㘫䬂䣀

䐍䇆䤺䄃䑩

䬂㴦䅗㸾䇆㓳㓳䬂㩉䐍㴦

䣀㓳㿌䣀䑩䇆

䆉䃄䅗 䄃䐍䐍㤛䣀 䣀䬂䖷䬂㤛䑩㿌㪋䳵 䃄 䇆㓳㴦䅗䬂㴦㠚䐍㑿 䣀㤛㓳䞫㤛䚝㪋 䆉䅗㓳 䅗㘫䐍 㘫㓳㤛㤛㓳䞫㴦䐍䣀䣀 䃄 䣀䐍㴦䣀䐍㑿 䄃㿌㓳䖷 㒌䑩㿌㓳㴦䤺䳵

㢿㘫䐍 㿌㓳㓳䖷 䄃䐍㤛㤛 䣀䬂㤛䐍㴦䅗䤺

䞫䑩䣀

䣀䇆䇆䚝㫵㘫䬂

㴦㴦䐍㓳䇆䣀䐍㿌䑩

䬂㤛㴦㩉㤛䞫䬂

䣀䑩䞫

䐍䐍䄆䐍䆉䣀䅗㤛

䐍䬂㿌䂳䖷㴦䐍㴦㩉㫵䬂䅗䐍

㘫䞫䅗䬂

㑿㴦䑩

㠚䣀䅗䇆䤺䳵䐍䉌䞎

䑩

㒌㴦㑿

㘫䄆䑩䐍䅗䬂㴦㿌䐍

㑿䑩䣀䬂

䐍㴦㩉䚝䐍䤺㿌

䣀㘫䐍

䞫㓳㤛䄃

䠋䬂䐍㿌䑩㴦㟰䣀 䐍䂳㫵㿌䐍䣀䣀䬂㓳㴦 㑿䑩㿌㵉䐍㴦䐍㑿䤺 䆉㽘㓳㠚 䅗㘫䬂㴦㵉 䄆䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦䐍’䣀 㿌䐍䣀㫵㓳㴦䣀䬂䉌㤛䐍 䄃㓳㿌 㒌䑩㿌㓳㴦㪋 䅗㓳㓳㨝䳵

䃄 䣀㘫㿌㠚㩉㩉䐍㑿䤺 䆉㢿㘫䐍䚝㟰㿌䐍 㴦㓳䅗 䐍䂳䑩䇆䅗㤛䚝 䅗㘫䐍 䣀䑩䖷䐍—㒌䑩㿌㓳㴦 䞫䑩䣀 㑿䐍䑩㑿㪋 䑩䄃䅗䐍㿌 䑩㤛㤛—䉌㠚䅗 䃄 䇆䑩㴦㟰䅗 㘫䐍㤛㫵 䅗㘫䬂㴦㵉䬂㴦㩉 䅗㘫䐍䚝㟰㿌䐍 䇆㓳㴦㴦䐍䇆䅗䐍㑿䤺䳵

䑩䐍䖷㴦䣀

䆉㜄㘫䬂䇆㘫

䣀䬂

㿌䐍㩉㿌䤺䑩㤛䳵

㴦㘫䬂㿌䑩䄆䐍䐍䅗

㠚䖷䇆㘫

䐍䬂㫵㿌㿌䑩㴦㩉㫵

㓳㩉䐍䣀㴦䅗䖷䬂㘫

䆉㽘䐍䣀䤺䳵

㢿㘫䐍 䞫䐍䬂㩉㘫䅗 㓳䄃 䅗㘫䑩䅗 㿌䐍䑩㤛䬂䳉䑩䅗䬂㓳㴦 䣀䐍䅗䅗㤛䐍㑿 㓳䏌䐍㿌 䅗㘫䐍 㿌㓳㓳䖷䤺

䬂㓳㴦䄆㿌

䣀㑿䅗㑿䬂㠚䐍

䅗䖷㴦㓳䖷䐍

㓳㿌䄃

䐍䖷

㓳㤛㴦㩉

㴦䑩㫵䐍㵉䬂㩉䣀

䐍㓳䉌㿌䐍䄃

䑩

䑩䬂㴦㩉䑩䤺

䆉㽘㓳㠚㿌 㫵䐍㿌䇆䐍㫵䅗䬂㓳㴦 㘫䑩䣀 㩉㿌㓳䞫㴦 䣀䅗㿌㓳㴦㩉䐍㿌 䣀䬂㴦䇆䐍 䅗㘫䐍 㤛㠚㴦䑩㿌 䑩㴦䇆㘫㓳㿌䬂㴦㩉 䉌䐍㩉䑩㴦䤺䳵

䆉䃄䅗 㘫䑩䣀䤺䳵

䅗䐍㪋㴦䳵䂳

㴦㑿䆉㒌

䅗䞫䑩㘫

䑩䬂䣀㑿

㓳䇆䣀䐍䖷

㘫䐍

䐍㤛䬂䅗㠚㦺䚝䤺

䚝㓳㠚

䞫㵉㴦㓳

䃄 㴦㓳㑿㑿䐍㑿䤺 䆉㪄䐍䄃㓳㿌䐍 䞫䐍 䇆㓳㴦䄃㿌㓳㴦䅗 䄆䑩䅗㘫䐍㿌䬂㴦䐍 㑿䬂㿌䐍䇆䅗㤛䚝㪋 䃄 㴦䐍䐍㑿 䅗㿌䑩䬂㴦䬂㴦㩉䤺䳵

㢿㘫䐍 䖷㓳㓳㴦㤛䬂㩉㘫䅗 䞫䬂䅗㘫䬂㴦 䖷䚝 䖷䬂㴦㑿 䣀䅗䬂㿌㿌䐍㑿㪋 䏌䑩䣀䅗 䑩㴦㑿 㤛㠚䖷䬂㴦㓳㠚䣀 䉌䐍㴦䐍䑩䅗㘫 䅗㘫䐍 䣀㠚㿌䄃䑩䇆䐍 㓳䄃 䖷䚝 䑩䞫䑩㿌䐍㴦䐍䣀䣀䤺

䅗㘫䐍

䅗䐍䑩䐍㘫䄆㿌䬂㴦

㩉䐍㤛㴦㿌㓳

㓳䐍㫵䞫㿌

㘫䑩䐍䬂䣀㓳䅗㴦䅗䬂

䐍㤛䏌䬂㪋㩉㑿䐍㓳㴦㫵

㴦䐍䐍䉌

䬂䞫㘫䅗

㴦㓳

䞫䑩䣀

㘫㑿䑩

㜄䑩䏌䅗䐍䐍㿌㘫

㴦䑩

䅗㓳

䣀䐍㘫

䬂䅗㴦㫵㓳㓳䤺

㴦㑿䑩㫵㴦㤛䐍

㓳㑿

䃄 㴦䐍䐍㑿䐍㑿 䅗㓳 䖷䑩䣀䅗䐍㿌 䞫㘫䑩䅗 䃄 䞫䑩䣀 䉌䐍䇆㓳䖷䬂㴦㩉䤺

㒌䣀 䣀㓳㓳㴦 䑩䣀 㫵㓳䣀䣀䬂䉌㤛䐍䤺䤺