Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO-Chapter 376: Was this really her?

The same night …

Aiden was working in his study when he heard hasty steps approach him.

Without lifting his gaze, he asked, "What made you panic suddenly? Did you encounter any problem in buying the shares?" he asked nonchalantly.

Emyr hesitated.

When Aiden didn't hear him speaking even after a few seconds, he glanced up at him from the documents.

"What is it?

"Sir, someone seems to be investigating you."

Emyr just received the information from his sources that someone is trying to investigate his boss's identity and even beyond it.

No ripple of surprise came to Aiden's expression. It was as if he had expected it to come sooner or later.

"Didn't you already reveal my identity the last time? Are they not satisfied with what they come to know about me?" he asked.

Emyr's expression turned a bit more serious than before. "Sir, it's not Ryan Foster this time," he said.

And Aiden seemed to pause at that. His expression remained unreadable. "Who else?"

"It's …" Emyr hesitated for a second but then spoke, "it seems to be Madam's grandmother."

"Granna?" Aiden asked, skeptical.

Emyr nodded before continuing, "Yes, I received the information that someone from Davies Empir is trying to look into you and the Winslow family."

After pondering for a moment, Aiden relaxed. "It's fine. Let them investigate if they want to. Don't stop."

"But sir —" Emyr didn't think it was right. After all, his boss's identity has always remained mysterious.

But one gaze from Aiden was enough to put him to silence. He didn't dare to speak more.

"She is not just anyone," Aiden's voice came soft, yet it held a thunder beneath. "She is not any outsider but your lady's grandmother. She holds all the rights to investigate me and the Winslows. Don't stop her."

Emyr nodded. There was one thing that he realized today. As long as there is someone whom the lady respects or treats well, his boss will automatically treat them better.

Was this just too biased?

It definitely was …

But could he complain?

He couldn't; hence, he just nodded and accepted it as a command.

Anyway, he felt that old lady wasn't out to harm. So, it must be fine.

***

Later, deep at night, Arwen was once again enveloped in the moment of the memories that seemed to be unfamiliar yet very familiar to her.

It was a bright sunny day, and she could a see a young girl at a distance.

Arwen couldn't move, but she could watch it all as if she was there to be the audience.

"Ide, let's take the picture here," a young girl said before turning her head in Arwen's direction.

And that face stunned Arwen for a second.

This was her —her younger self.

The girl smiled before looking up at the sky. "The sunlight is just coming right in this angle, and it will make me look more beautiful. Come fast."

Ide?

Arwen didn't understand, and just when she thought the girl was talking to her, she heard a voice from her side and saw a young guy walking ahead.

"You don't need a sun to make yourself look beautiful, Moon. You already are," he said as he walked to the girl and then raised his hand slowly to brush her hair with his fingers, gently.

Arwen's brows furrowed as she tried to understand and see the face of the boy, but it was too blurred for her to recognize him. It was as if she simply couldn't tell what he looked like.

But how was that possible?

How could she not see him? Wasn't he just there?

If she could see herself there —all clear and happy, then why was only the boy's face that was coming blurred for her then?

It was as if something was stopping her from recognizing him.

Who was he? Did she know him?

As the question rose in her unconscious self, she stood staring at her young self who was happily out to click the pictures.

"This one has come nice," the little girl said, "but it's not perfect. Can we click another?" As she asked, the little Arwen blinked her eyes as if coaxing the guy to agree to her.

The guy didn't agree straightforwardly. Arwen couldn't tell his expression, but she could see him staring at little Arwen as if taking his time and considering her request.

"Ide, I know you don't like taking pictures," the little girl spoke again, her fingers already tugging on the boy's sleeves gently. "But since you have already agreed to take one. We can add a few more and make it perfect, right? Can we, please?"

Arwen was stunned for a moment. She didn't know how she should react to this.

Was this really her?

She never remembered behaving like this with anyone. Although she was young, still coaxing someone like this just to take pictures wasn't just like her. If someone didn't want to do something, she wouldn't force them. After all, she was never so close with anyone to demand something.

Then who was this guy?

And why was she acting so differently with him? It was like she was too comfortable, not caring at all that the boy might think she was clingy and bothersome.

After all, since she was young, all she had tried to avoid was being clingy and bothersome to someone. Her mother has always asked her to be more understanding and mature so that people don't dislike her and she upholds the grace of a young lady of the Quin family.

Then how come she has forgotten it all around this young boy?

Who was he?

He can't be a stranger, given how comfortable she is around him.

And he can't also be someone she could forget losing contact …

Then does that mean that she knew him?

If she knew, then why couldn't she remember him?

Why couldn't she recognize his face?

What was making it so difficult?

While she was still struggling with all those questions, she heard the little girl at the front tugging on the boy's sleeves more fervently.

"Ide! Ide! Please. A few more pictures, can we, pleasee!!" The little girl tried more, but soon her expectant expression fell when she saw the boy shaking his head in disagreement.

Feeling displeased, she looked away from him and muttered in a tone that was barely audible. "Since when did you start rejecting me? Did you promise me to agree to all my demands? Why are you not agreeing to something so simple as clicking the picture now?"

"Because I won't click pictures like this with just anyone?" the boy spoke, proving her this reason.

But not understanding what he meant, the girl pursed her lips and looked up at him with furrowed brows. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I will only click pictures with a girl who agrees to stay with me and just me … forever. I can't let my future girlfriend be jealous of anyone," he said, adding slowly. "So, if you want to click more pictures with me, you have to first make a promise to me."

Arwen, who has been watching all this like a reel from the past, was taken aback for a moment.

What does this mean?

It wasn't like she didn't understand it. It was just that it felt unbelievable.

Was this really something that she had come across?

When did it happen?

魯 㒮䠢㵢盧 㵢㘒䑂㵢㧱㧱䣹䂸䬩䆦䡒䆦㰅㵢䚊㧱䡚㝯䑂䂔㝏露 虜 老䁛㰅㵢"䯸㧱㘒䣹䚊㝯老㴉䄄 㝯䲓䯸䆦㼴䑂㵢䀀"䲓㧱㞾㣶㵢㰅㵢㓟䬩䑂䄄 䣹㧱䚊㝯㘒㴉䄄䠢䠜 䲓㵢䠢爐 老 盧 䠢䑂㵢㵢䠢㴉 㡨㝯㘒㓟 㵢䓡㓟㼴䆦䑂䲓㝯爐䡒䬩㵢㝯㝯㰅

㒮䠢㵢 㘒㝯䚊㧱䣹 䣹䚊㘒 䑂㴉䄄䲓㵢㰅 䄄㴉 䠢㵢䲓 䂔㝯䲓 䄄 㼴㝯㼴㵢㧱㴉 㡨㵢䂔㝯䲓㵢 䂔䆦㧱䄄䡒䡒㘒 䑂䄄㘒䆦㧱䣹㓟 "䀀䲓㝯㼴䆦䑂㵢 㴉㝯 㡨㵢 㼴㘒 䣹䆦䲓䡒䂔䲓䆦㵢㧱㰅 㧱㝯㣶 䄄㧱㰅 㣶䆦䂔㵢 䡒䄄㴉㵢䲓䡚"

"㫷䆦䲓䡒䂔䲓䆦㵢㧱㰅䯸 䠜䆦䂔㵢䯸 䠜䠢䄄㴉 㰅㝯㵢䑂 㴉䠢䄄㴉 䠢䄄㿿㵢 㴉㝯 㰅㝯 㣶䆦㴉䠢 㴉䄄䬩䆦㧱䣹 䄄 䓡䆦㝏㴉䚊䲓㵢䯸" 㒮䠢㵢 䡒䆦㴉㴉䡒㵢 䣹䆦䲓䡒 㴉䆦㴉䡒㵢㰅 䠢㵢䲓 䠢㵢䄄㰅㓟 䠢㵢䲓 䂔䄄㝏㵢 䂔䆦䡒䡒㵢㰅 㣶䆦㴉䠢 䆦㧱㧱㝯㝏㵢㧱㴉 㝏㝯㧱䂔䚊䑂䆦㝯㧱䡚

㼴㵢㵢㰅䑂㵢㴉㝯㝯䑂䑂㵢䲓䆦䚊㴉䠢䆦䑂 㵢䆦"䓡䑂䯸䡒㼴䄄㘒㝯䚊 䄄 "㞾䠢㵢 䓡䆦㵢䲓㝏㴉䚊 㓟㘒㝯㡨 㴉䠢㵢 㴉䄄䲓䡚㼴㵢㴉䑂㼴㵢㝯㴉䠢䆦䣹㧱䆦㴉䄄㵢䲓䣹㝏㧱 㴉䠜㝯䠢䆦䚊㴉 䲓䲓䆦䄄䣹㼴㵢䄄 䲓㵢䣹䠢㵢㴉㝯㴉㧱㵢䓡䑂䚊㵢䑂䑂㓟䂸䚊㴉 㡨㵢 㵢㝏䡚㝯㼴㴉䡒䓡㵢㝏㴉䆦㝏䄄䲓㵢㴉㵢䆦䂔 䓡㴉䆦㵢㝏䲓䚊䂔䲓䚊䲓㴉䠢㵢䄄㴉㝯䓡㓟㧱䡒㵢䆦㵢䄄䗵㰅䣹㴉䄄䆦㧱䬩䪩㝯 䬩㴉䠢䆦㧱䑂䄄㼴㵢䬩䑂䆦

䒰㵢㵢䆦㧱䣹 㴉䠢㵢 䣹䆦䲓䡒 㡨䡒䆦㧱䬩 䄄㴉 䠢䆦㼴 䆦㧱 㰅㵢㵢䓡 㴉䠢㝯䚊䣹䠢㴉㓟 䠢㵢 䑂䠢㝯㝯䬩 䠢䆦䑂 䠢㵢䄄㰅 䄄㧱㰅 㝏㝯㧱㴉䆦㧱䚊㵢㰅㓟 "'䁛㴉'䑂 㧱㝯㴉䡚 㒮䠢䄄㴉'䑂 㣶䠢㘒 䆦䂔 䁛 㴉䄄䬩㵢 䄄 䓡䆦㝏㴉䚊䲓㵢 㣶䆦㴉䠢 䄄 䣹䆦䲓䡒㓟 䑂䠢㵢 䠢䄄䑂 㴉㝯 㡨㵢 㼴㘒 䣹䆦䲓䡒䂔䲓䆦㵢㧱㰅 䄄㧱㰅㓟 䆦㧱 㴉䠢㵢 䂔䚊㴉䚊䲓㵢㓟 㼴㘒 㣶䆦䂔㵢䡚 㒮䠢䄄㴉 㣶䄄㘒㓟 䑂䠢㵢 㣶㝯㧱'㴉 䂔㵢㵢䡒 䁂㵢䄄䡒㝯䚊䑂 㝯䂔 䄄㧱㘒㝯㧱㵢 㵢䡒䑂㵢 䡒䄄㴉㵢䲓䡚"

㒮䠢㵢 䣹䆦䲓䡒 䓡䄄䚊䑂㵢㰅 䄄㴉 䠢䆦䑂 㣶㝯䲓㰅䑂㓟 䠢㵢䲓 䑂㼴䄄䡒䡒 䂔䄄㝏㵢 䑂㝏䲓䚊㧱㝏䠢㵢㰅 䆦㧱 㴉䠢㝯䚊䣹䠢㴉㓟 䄄䑂 䆦䂔 䑂䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂 㴉䲓䚊䡒㘒 㝏㝯㧱䑂䆦㰅㵢䲓䆦㧱䣹 䠢䆦䑂 䲓㵢䄄䑂㝯㧱䆦㧱䣹䡚

䠢㴉㵢䄄㴉 㴉㰅䄄㵢㝏㣶䠢䚊㵢㘒䡒䮪䡒䄄 䣹㧱䆦䄄㴉㰅㧱䒰㴉㰅㵢䆦㧱㓟䄄䑂㝏䑂㰅㴉䚊㵢㧱㧱䡚䄄㵢㧱㵢㝏䑂 䡒㝯㓟䂔㧱䚊㰅㞾䲓㧱㣶㵢

㒮䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂 㧱㝯 䂔䡒䄄㣶 䆦㧱 㴉䠢㵢 㡨㝯㘒'䑂 䡒㝯䣹䆦㝏䡚 㯇䆦䑂 䲓㵢䄄䑂㝯㧱䆦㧱䣹 㣶䄄䑂 㝏䡒㵢䄄䲓㓟 䓡㵢䲓䠢䄄䓡䑂 㵢㿿㵢㧱 㴉㝯㝯 㼴䄄㴉䚊䲓㵢 䂔㝯䲓 䠢䆦䑂 䄄䣹㵢䡚

䂸䚊㴉 䑂㝯㼴㵢㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹 䄄㡨㝯䚊㴉 䆦㴉 䂔㵢䡒㴉 㰅㵢䡒䆦㡨㵢䲓䄄㴉㵢㓟 䄄䑂 䆦䂔 䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 䁂䚊䑂㴉 㴉䄄䡒䬩䆦㧱䣹 䄄㡨㝯䚊㴉 䄄 䓡䆦㝏㴉䚊䲓㵢 … 㡨䚊㴉 䲓䄄㴉䠢㵢䲓㓟 䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂 㼴䄄䬩䆦㧱䣹 䄄 㝏㝯㧱䂔㵢䑂䑂䆦㝯㧱䡚 㞾 㰅㵢㝏䡒䄄䲓䄄㴉䆦㝯㧱 㝯䂔 䠢䆦䑂 䆦㧱㴉㵢㧱㴉䆦㝯㧱䑂䡚

㴉䠜䠢䄄䬩㧱䯸㣶㝯 䄄㣶䑂 㰅䆦㧱㴉'㰅 —㵢䑂䠢㴉䆦

䠜䄄䑂 䆦㴉 䠢䄄䓡䓡㵢㧱䆦㧱䣹 䲓㵢䄄䡒 㝯䲓 䆦䂔 䆦㴉 㣶䄄䑂 䁂䚊䑂㴉 䑂㝯㼴㵢 㝯䂔 䠢㵢䲓 䆦㼴䄄䣹䆦㧱䄄㴉䆦㝯㧱 —䑂䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 䑂䚊䲓㵢䡚

䂸䚊㴉 䄄㴉 㴉䠢㵢 㼴㝯㼴㵢㧱㴉 䑂䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 㴉㝯 䬩㧱㝯㣶 㴉䠢㵢 䣹䆦䲓䡒 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅㧱'㴉 䓡㝯䑂䑂䆦㡨䡒㘒 䄄䣹䲓㵢㵢 㴉㝯 䠢䆦㼴䯸

㧱㝯㵢䠢䑂㵢䄄㘒䲓㝯㵢䚊䣹㧱㝯㧱 䑂䄄㣶㡨䚊㴉䠢㵢䲓䄄㴉 '㰅䡒䡚䚊㝯㝏㴉㧱 㝯䚊䑂㝏䲓㵢㓟 䡚㵢䣹䄄䆠䂔䣹䡒䲓䆦 㧱㘒䚊䣹㝯㒮䠢㵢

䪩㝯㵢䑂㧱'㴉 䆦㴉 㼴㵢䄄㧱 䆦㴉 㣶䄄䑂 䠢㵢䲓䯸

㞾㧱㰅 䆦䂔 䆦㴉 㣶䄄䑂 䠢㵢䲓㓟 㴉䠢㵢㧱 䑂䠢㵢 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅㧱'㴉 䓡㝯䑂䑂䆦㡨䡒㵢 䄄䣹䲓㵢㵢 …

㣶䄄䑂䚊㛼䑂㴉 㰅䲓䄄㵢䠢 㵢䠢䑂䠢䑂㵢 䬩䄄䑂 㡨㝯㘒 㵢䠢㴉 䆦䣹䄄䡚䄄㧱䄄䠢㴉㴉㓟䄄䑂 㧱䆦䬩㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉䡒䡒䄄

"䒰㝯 㰅㝯 㘒㝯䚊 䓡䲓㝯㼴䆦䑂㵢 㼴㵢䯸"

㯇㵢䲓 䣹䄄㨴㵢 㴉䚊䲓㧱㵢㰅 㴉㝯㣶䄄䲓㰅䑂 䠢㵢䲓 㘒㝯䚊㧱䣹㵢䲓 䑂㵢䡒䂔㓟 㣶䄄䆦㴉䆦㧱䣹 䂔㝯䲓 䠢㵢䲓 㴉㝯 䲓㵢䓡䡒㘒䡚

㧱䆦䑂䄄㓟㵢㰅㴉 㧱䄄㰅㝯㴉㧱䡚㝯㧱㰅㰅䆦䣹䠢㵢䲓 䑂䬩䠢㝏㝯㓟 䓡䡒䄄䠢䆦䓡㘒 䡚䂔㵢㵢䚊䲓䑂㝯㴉䒰䠢㵢 㴉䚊䂸㰅䠢㵢䄄㴉䠢㵢䑂䠢㵢䄄䬩 䑂䠢㵢䲓䡒䣹䆦䡒㵢䆦㴉䡒㴉 㴉䓡㝏㰅㵢㵢㵢䗵㣶䄄䑂㵢䲓䠢䲓㵢䠢

"㖂䠢㼴䳣䠢㼴㓟" 㴉䠢㵢 㘒㝯䚊㧱䣹 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䠢䚊㼴㼴㵢㰅䡚 "䌭㝯㣶 㝏䄄㧱 㣶㵢 㴉䄄䬩㵢 㼴㝯䲓㵢 㝯䂔 㴉䠢㵢 䓡䆦㝏㴉䚊䲓㵢䑂䯸"

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㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䂔䲓㝯㨴㵢䡚

㘒䠢䠜㴉䁛 㴉䂔㵢䡒㣶䄄䑂 䄄㴉㣶䠢 㣶䄄䑂 䑂㡨䚊㰅䄄䲓䡚䄄㰅䲓㧱䚊䑂㧱㰅㵢㴉䑂䠢㵢 䓡䣹㧱䓡䄄㵢䠢㧱䆦䯸㰅㴉'䆦㧱㰅䄄䡒䡒䑂㴉䠢䆦㣶䄄䆦㴉䠢㧱㝏䡚䣹 㵢䠢䒰

㞾㧱㰅 … 㣶䠢㝯 㣶䄄䑂 㴉䠢㵢 㡨㝯㘒䯸

䂸㵢䂔㝯䲓㵢 䑂䠢㵢 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅 䂔㝯㝏䚊䑂 㝯㧱 䠢䆦㼴㓟 䑂䠢㵢 䑂䄄㣶 䠢㵢䲓 㘒㝯䚊㧱䣹㵢䲓 䑂㵢䡒䂔 䑂䚊㰅㰅㵢㧱䡒㘒 䣹䲓䄄㡨 䠢䆦䑂 䠢䄄㧱㰅㓟 䓡䚊䡒䡒䆦㧱䣹 䠢䆦㼴 䄄䡒㝯㧱䣹 㵢䗵㝏䆦㴉㵢㰅䡒㘒䡚

㵢㣶 䑂㵢䚊䲓䆦䓡㴉㝏㝯㘒䚊 㝯㴉 䡒䡒䆦㣶䑂㝯㵢㣶㵢䠢㵢䲓㼴 "䡒䄄䡚䬩㵢㴉䠢㵢 䣹㝯䡚䑂㵢㵢䡒䠢䄄㿿㵢 㣶㝯䌭"䲓㰅䄄㵢㵢䣹㓟 㴉䄄䬩㵢 䣌䑂㵢'㴉 㴉䠢䄄㴉

䠜䆦㴉䠢 㴉䠢䄄㴉㓟 䑂䠢㵢 䲓䄄㧱 䄄䠢㵢䄄㰅㓟 䣹䆦䣹䣹䡒䆦㧱䣹䡚

䂸㵢䠢䆦㧱㰅 䠢㵢䲓 㴉䠢㵢 㡨㝯㘒 㝏䄄䡒䡒㵢㰅 㝯䚊㴉㓟 䠢䆦䑂 㿿㝯䆦㝏㵢 䡒䄄㝏㵢㰅 㣶䆦㴉䠢 㝏㝯㧱㝏㵢䲓㧱䡚

"䂸㵢 䲓䚊䡒㓟䄄㝏㵢䂔㖂㧱㝯"㝯䗄

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱'䑂 㵢㘒㵢䑂 㣶䆦㰅㵢㧱㵢㰅䡚

㖂㝯㝯㧱䯸䗄

䪩䆦㰅 䠢䑂㵢㧱㝯㖂㝯䯸䠢㵢䲓䄄㵢䲓䠢 䠢䆦㼴䄄㝏䡒䡒

㯇㝯㣶 㣶䄄䑂 㴉䠢䄄㴉 䓡㝯䑂䑂䆦㡨䡒㵢䯸

䠜䠢㘒 㣶㝯䚊䡒㰅 䠢㵢 㝏䄄䡒䡒 䠢㵢䲓 㴉䠢䄄㴉䯸

㒮䠢㵢—䑂㴉㧱䆦㴉䄄㧱 㧱㴉㵢䗵

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱'䑂 㵢㘒㵢䑂 䑂㧱䄄䓡䓡㵢㰅 㝯䓡㵢㧱㓟 䠢㵢䲓 䠢㵢䄄䲓㴉 䓡㝯䚊㧱㰅䆦㧱䣹 䆦㧱 䠢㵢䲓 㝏䠢㵢䑂㴉䡚 䒰䠢㵢 䑂㴉䄄䲓㵢㰅 䄄㴉 㴉䠢㵢 㝏㵢䆦䡒䆦㧱䣹㓟 䠢㵢䲓 㼴䆦㧱㰅 䑂㴉䆦䡒䡒 䲓㵢㵢䡒䆦㧱䣹 䂔䲓㝯㼴 㴉䠢㵢 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䡚

㖂㝯㝯㧱䡚

㒮䠢䄄㴉 䠢㵢 …㵢䠢䲓㖂䡚㝯㝯㧱䄄䡒㰅㵢䡒㝏㡨㝯㘒

䠜䠢㘒䯸

"䠜㵢㧱㧱䄄䗄 㞾䲓㵢 㘒㝯䚊 㝯䬩䄄㘒䯸"

䚊䲓㴉䣹㵢㧱㰅㧱䄄 䣹䚊䠢㴉䠢䑂㴉㝯䡚 䬩㝯㧱㝯䡒䆦䣹 䡚㝏㧱㝯䲓㵢㝏㧱㧱㫷䆦㧱䄄䄄 㵢㰅䠢䄄䄄䑂㣶㵢䠢䒰 䠢㵢䲓䠢㵢䲓 㝯䬩䲓㵢㡨 㴉䄄㒮䠢㵢 㿿㝯䆦㝏㵢 䲓㴉䚊㰅㧱㵢䠢㵢䲓㴉㣶䆦䠢

䓕䲓㝯㣶㧱䆦㧱䣹 䑂䡒䆦䣹䠢㴉䡒㘒㓟 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䓡䚊䑂䠢㵢㰅 䠢㵢䲓䑂㵢䡒䂔 䆦㧱㴉㝯 䄄 䑂䆦㴉㴉䆦㧱䣹 䓡㝯䑂䆦㴉䆦㝯㧱䡚 䠜䠢䄄㴉'䑂 㣶䲓㝯㧱䣹䯸 䠜䠢㘒 䄄䲓㵢 㘒㝯䚊 䡒㝯㝯䬩䆦㧱䣹 䄄㴉 㼴㵢 䡒䆦䬩㵢 㴉䠢䄄㴉䯸"

㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 䑂䆦䣹䠢㵢㰅 䄄㧱㰅 䠢䄄㧱㰅㵢㰅 䠢㵢䲓 䄄 䣹䡒䄄䑂䑂 㝯䂔 㣶䄄㴉㵢䲓䡚 "䑠㝯䚊 㣶㵢䲓㵢 㴉䄄䡒䬩䆦㧱䣹 䆦㧱 㘒㝯䚊䲓 䑂䡒㵢㵢䓡䡚 䁛 㣶䄄䑂 䁂䚊䑂㴉 䲓㵢䄄㰅䆦㧱䣹㓟 䄄㧱㰅 㘒㝯䚊 䄄䡒㼴㝯䑂㴉 䑂㝏䄄䲓㵢㰅 㼴㵢䡚"

䆦㧱䄄䡒䆦䬩㒮䣹㧱 㵢䠢䲓䯸䓡䑂䡒㵢㵢

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱'䑂 䣹䄄㨴㵢 䂔䡒䆦㝏䬩㵢䲓㵢㰅 䄄䲓㝯䚊㧱㰅 㴉䠢㵢 䲓㝯㝯㼴㓟 㴉䄄䬩䆦㧱䣹 䆦㧱 䠢㵢䲓 䑂䚊䲓䲓㝯䚊㧱㰅䆦㧱䣹䑂䡚 䒰䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂 䑂㴉䆦䡒䡒 䆦㧱 㡨㵢㰅䡚 䒰㴉䆦䡒䡒 䆦㧱 䠢㵢䲓 䲓㝯㝯㼴䡚

䁛㴉 䠢䄄㰅 㡨㵢㵢㧱 䄄 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䡚

䂸䚊㴉 㣶䣹䄄㝏䆦㴉䠢㧱㝯㣶㧱 㴉㵢䠢㵢䣹㿿䆦䲓㧱㘒 㵢䠢䑂 㝯䑂—㵢䡒䲓䄄 㡨㵢㵢㧱䑂㵢㘒㵢䡚䂔䆦䡒㘒䚊䄄㴉㝏䡒䄄 䠢㰅䄄 㓟㵢䲓㵢䠢㴉㝯䑂㴉䆦㝯䚊㧱䡒㰅䂔 䆦㿿䆦㰅㿿㓟 㰅䄄䠢 䄄䑂 䂔㵢䡒㴉 䠢㵢䲓䠢㣶䆦㴉

䠜䄄䑂 䆦㴉 䄄 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴 … 㝯䲓 䄄 㼴㵢㼴㝯䲓㘒䡚

䂸䚊㴉 䆦䂔 䆦㴉 㣶䄄䑂㓟 㣶䠢㘒 㰅䆦㰅 䑂䠢㵢 䠢䄄㿿㵢 㧱㝯 䲓㵢㼴㵢㼴㡨䲓䄄㧱㝏㵢 㝯䂔 䆦㴉 㧱㝯㣶䯸

㯇䑂䄄㝯㴉䲓㵢䣹㝯㧱㴉䂔 䂔䲓㼴㝯 㵢㼴㴉䣹㝯䆦䑂㧱䠢䑂䯸䄄䓡㴉䠢㵢䲓䠢䑂㵢

䒰䠢㵢 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 㴉䠢䆦㧱䬩 䑂㝯 …

䪩㝯㵢䑂㧱'㴉 䑂䠢㵢 䲓㵢㼴㵢㼴㡨㵢䲓 㵢㿿㵢䲓㘒㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹 䄄䡒䲓㵢䄄㰅㘒䯸

㴉㧱㵢䲓䄄㓟㵢㝏㧱 㰅䡒䠢䆦㓟㝏䠢㰅㝯㝯 䄄㧱䲓䆦䣹䆦㧱㴉 䑂㣶䄄 䆦㼴䣹䆦䑂䑂㧱䡚䲓㵢㵢㼴㼴䲓㡨㰅㵢㵢䠢䲓㵢㝯䂔 䲓㯇㵢䚊䑂㧱䆦㿿㵢䆦㘒㴉䲓 㴉䆦 㰅䄄㧱䲓䠢㒮㵢㵢 㝏㵢㧱䄄㰅䚊㝯㰅㝏䡒䡒䲓㘒䄄㵢䠢㴉䄄䠜䑂—㵢䠢 䠢㴉䆦㝯㧱㧱䣹 㝯䠢㝏䑂䡒㝯 㵢䠢䲓 䡒䄄䡒䡚 㵢㴉䠢 㵢䠢䑂䲓䯸㝯䣹㴉㵢䂔 㧱䄄䠢㝏䣹㵢

䂸䚊㴉 䆦䂔 䑂䠢㵢 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉㓟 㣶䠢䄄㴉 㵢䗵䄄㝏㴉䡒㘒 䠢䄄䑂 䑂䠢㵢 䑂㵢㵢㧱䯸

㞾㧱㰅 㼴㝯䲓㵢 䆦㼴䓡㝯䲓㴉䄄㧱㴉䡒㘒 —㣶䠢㝯 㣶䄄䑂 㴉䠢䄄㴉 㡨㝯㘒䯸

㘒㝯䚊㝏䆦㵢㝯㿿 䄄 䆦䪩"㰅 䲓㵢䠢㧱㧱䆦䄄㫷䄄䡒㰅䡒㵢䚊䓡 䡚㡨䬩㝏䄄䠢㧱㵢"㼴䯸䄄㴉䆦䲓䣹 㵢䠢䄄㿿

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䠢㵢䑂䆦㴉䄄㴉㵢㰅䡚

䠜䄄䑂 䆦㴉 䄄 㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉㼴䄄䲓㵢䯸

㰅䚊䚊㵢䡚㼴䲓㼴䲓 䑂䄄'㣶㧱㴉 䁛㴉 䄄䡚䡒䡒䄄 㴉䄄 㰅㵢䲓䄄㝏䑂䲓㵢䠢㴉䁛"䣹䄄䲓䠢䡚㵢㧱㼴䆦"㴉㵢䠢䑂 䌭㓟""㝯䠢䄄㰅㧱'㴉

䁛㧱䑂㴉㵢䄄㰅 … 䆦㴉 䂔㵢䡒㴉 㣶䄄䲓㼴䡚

䣌䆦䣹䠢㴉䡚

䄄 㴉䲓㝯㣶䠢䆦䆦㧱䡚䲓㵢䠢䠢䣹㝏䑂䣌䆦㵢䬩 㴉㧱㵢㼴㝯㼴

"㞾 㼴㝯㼴㵢㧱㴉 㣶㝯䲓㴉䠢 㝏䠢㵢䲓䆦䑂䠢䆦㧱䣹䯸" 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 䄄䑂䬩㵢㰅㓟 䡒㝯㝯䬩䆦㧱䣹 㝏㝯㧱䂔䚊䑂㵢㰅 䄄㴉 䠢㵢䲓 㣶㝯䲓㰅䑂䡚

䂸䚊㴉 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 㣶䄄䑂 㴉㝯㝯 䡒㝯䑂㴉 䆦㧱 䠢㵢䲓 㝯㣶㧱 㴉䠢㝯䚊䣹䠢㴉䑂 㴉䠢䄄㴉 䑂䠢㵢 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 䑂㵢㵢 㴉䠢㵢 㝏㝯㧱䂔䚊䑂䆦㝯㧱 㝯㧱 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄'䑂 䂔䄄㝏㵢䡚 䌭㝯㰅㰅䆦㧱䣹 䑂䆦㼴䓡䡒㘒㓟 䑂䠢㵢 䄄㧱䑂㣶㵢䲓㵢㰅䡚 "䑠㵢䑂㓟 䆦㴉 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 䄄 㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉㼴䄄䲓㵢䡚 䁛 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 䄄䂔䲓䄄䆦㰅 䄄㴉 䄄䡒䡒䡚"

䄄㵢䆦䑂䆦䠢㴉㴉䡚㧱㝯㵢㰅䯸㼴䄄"䲓㴉䆦䄄㴉䡒㴉䑂㧱䆦㓟㘒㧱 㿿䠢㵢䄄䄄 㧱"㒮䠢㵢 㼴䚊䑂㴉㫷䄄䆦䄄㧱㧱䑂䄄䡒㴉㝯㼴㣶㴉䚊䠢㝯㴉䆦䄄䆦䑂㰅㧱㡨㵢㵢

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 㴉䚊䲓㧱㵢㰅 㴉㝯 䠢㵢䲓䜨 䠢㵢䲓 㵢㘒㵢䑂 㴉䠢㝯䚊䣹䠢㴉䂔䚊䡒䡚 "㞾 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䯸"

㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 䑂䆦䣹䠢㵢㰅㓟 䲓䚊㡨㡨䆦㧱䣹 䠢㵢䲓 䂔㝯䲓㵢䠢㵢䄄㰅䡚 "䠜㵢㧱㧱䄄㓟 㣶䠢䄄㴉'䑂 㣶䆦㴉䠢 㘒㝯䚊 㴉㝯㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉䯸 䆠䂔 㝏㝯䚊䲓䑂㵢㓟 䆦㴉'䑂 䄄 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䗄 䁛䂔 䆦㴉 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 䑂㝏䄄䲓㵢 㘒㝯䚊 䄄㴉 䄄䡒䡒… 䆦䂔 䆦㴉'䑂 㧱㝯㴉 䄄 㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉㼴䄄䲓㵢㓟 㴉䠢㵢㧱 䆦㴉 䠢䄄䑂 䆦㴉 㡨㵢 䄄 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䡚" 䒰䠢㵢 䣹㵢䑂㴉䚊䲓㵢㰅 㣶䆦㴉䠢 䠢㵢䲓 䂔䆦㧱䣹㵢䲓䑂㓟 䂔㝯䲓㼴䆦㧱䣹 㝏䲓㝯䑂䑂䡚 "䌭䆦䣹䠢㴉㼴䄄䲓㵢䑂 䄄㧱㰅 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䑂 䄄䲓㵢 㝯䓡䓡㝯䑂䆦㴉㵢䑂䡚 䒰㝯㓟 䆦䂔㓟 䆦㴉'䑂 㧱㝯㴉 㝯㧱㵢㓟 䆦㴉'䑂 㴉䠢㵢 㝯㴉䠢㵢䲓㓟 䲓䆦䣹䠢㴉䯸"

㵢㰅㧱䀝䲓䄄㴉 䲓㵢䠢 㝯䲓䣹䡚㵢㧱䄄䆦䑂㧱 䠢䲓㵢 㵢䑂㵢㘒㵢㣶䲓㞾㧱䠢㵢䄄㿿㣶㝯䚊䡒㰅䲓'䆦䑂䂔㧱㵢㰅㝏㼴㝏䆦䄄䲓䑂㴉㵢㧱䑂㓟䚊㝏 䲓㝯㼴㧱䡒䄄䲓㝯䡒䡒㰅㵢 㼴䡒䆦㵢䑂䓡 㵢㿿㘒㝯䲓䡒

䂸䚊㴉 㴉㝯㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉 …

㒮㝯㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉㓟 䑂䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 䑂㝯 䑂䚊䲓㵢䡚

䄄㵢䲓䡒㝯—䑂㵢䡒䲓䄄㝏 㴉䆦㣶䄄䑂㝯䑂㧱㝏㰅㝏㝯䆦㧱㿿㵢 䑂䄄㣶㴉䑂䚊䁂㵢䠢䑂 䡚㰅㼴䲓㵢䄄䠢䄄㰅 㣶㰅㧱㵢㵢䆦㴉䑂䑂 㧱䑂'䄄㴉㣶 — 䠢䑂㵢䠢䠜䄄㴉䄄㴉㴉䠢

䁛㴉 䂔㵢䡒㴉 䡒䆦䬩㵢 䄄 㼴㵢㼴㝯䲓㘒䡚

䂸䚊㴉 㴉䠢䄄㴉 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 㼴䄄䬩㵢 䑂㵢㧱䑂㵢䡚

䒰䠢㵢 䯸㵢䠢䑂䠢㵢䲓䄄㴉㡨䚊㝯 䲓㵢㰅㼴㵢㵢㵢䲓㡨㼴 䪩㴉䆦㧱㰅'䓡䄄䑂㴉䡚 㵢䲓䣹㧱㘒㿿㴉䆦㵢䠢

"䠜㵢㧱㧱䄄㓟 㣶䠢䄄㴉'䑂 㣶䲓㝯㧱䣹䯸" 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 㴉䚊䣹䣹㵢㰅 䣹㵢㧱㴉䡒㘒 䄄㴉 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱'䑂 䄄䲓㼴䡚 "䠜䠢㘒 㰅㝯 㘒㝯䚊 䡒㝯㝯䬩 䡒䆦䬩㵢 㘒㝯䚊 䠢䄄㿿㵢 䑂㴉䚊㼴㡨䡒㵢㰅 䚊䓡㝯㧱 䄄 䣹䲓㵢䄄㴉 㼴㘒䑂㴉㵢䲓㘒 㴉䠢䄄㴉 㼴䚊䑂㴉 㡨㵢 䑂㝯䡒㿿㵢㰅䯸" 䒰䠢㵢 䂔䲓㝯㣶㧱㵢㰅䡚 "'䠜䠢䄄㴉 䆦䑂 䆦㴉䯸 㒮㵢䡒䡒 㼴㵢䡚"

㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䠢㵢䑂䆦㴉䄄㴉㵢㰅䡚 䒰䠢㵢 㣶䄄㧱㴉㵢㰅 㴉㝯 㴉䄄䡒䬩 䄄㡨㝯䚊㴉 䆦㴉䡚 㒮㝯 㴉㵢䡒䡒 䑂㝯㼴㵢㝯㧱㵢 —㴉㝯 㼴䄄䬩㵢 䑂㵢㧱䑂㵢 㝯䂔 䆦㴉䡚 䂸䚊㴉 䠢㝯㣶 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅 䑂䠢㵢 㵢䗵䓡䡒䄄䆦㧱 䑂㝯㼴㵢㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹 䑂䠢㵢 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 㵢㿿㵢㧱 䚊㧱㰅㵢䲓䑂㴉䄄㧱㰅 䠢㵢䲓䑂㵢䡒䂔䯸

"䯸—㞾"㵢㧱䲓㣶

㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 㣶䄄䑂 䄄㡨㝯䚊㴉 㴉㝯 䄄䑂䬩 䄄䣹䄄䆦㧱㓟 㡨䚊㴉 㡨㵢䂔㝯䲓㵢 䑂䠢㵢 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅㓟 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䑂䠢㝯㝯䬩 䠢㵢䲓 䠢㵢䄄㰅䡚 䒰䠢㵢 䓡䡒䄄㝏㵢㰅 䠢㵢䲓 䠢䄄㧱㰅 㝯㿿㵢䲓 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄㓟 䣹䆦㿿䆦㧱䣹 䠢㵢䲓 䄄 䲓㵢䄄䑂䑂䚊䲓䆦㧱䣹 䑂䮪䚊㵢㵢㨴㵢䡚

"䁛㴉'䑂 㧱㝯㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹㓟" 䑂䠢㵢 䑂䄄䆦㰅䡚 "䁛㴉 㼴䚊䑂㴉 䲓㵢䄄䡒䡒㘒 㡨㵢 䁂䚊䑂㴉 䄄 㰅䲓㵢䄄㼴䡚 䁛㴉 䂔㵢䡒㴉 䑂㝯 䲓㵢䄄䡒 㴉䠢䄄㴉 䁛 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅㧱'㴉 䑂㴉㝯䓡 㴉䠢䆦㧱䬩䆦㧱䣹 䄄㡨㝯䚊㴉 䆦㴉㓟 㡨䚊㴉 …䆦㴉'䑂 㧱㝯㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹 䆦㼴䓡㝯䲓㴉䄄㧱㴉䡚"

㴉䚊䂸" "—

"䆠䠢㓟 䡒㝯㝯䬩 䄄㴉 㴉䠢㵢 㴉䆦㼴㵢㓟" 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 䮪䚊䆦㝏䬩䡒㘒 䣹䡒䄄㧱㝏㵢㰅 䄄㴉 㴉䠢㵢 㝏䡒㝯㝏䬩䡚 "䁛㴉'䑂 䓡䄄䑂㴉 㼴䆦㰅㧱䆦䣹䠢㴉䡚 䠜䠢㘒 䄄䲓㵢 㘒㝯䚊 䑂㴉䆦䡒䡒 䚊䓡䯸" 䑂䠢㵢 㴉㝯㝯䬩 㴉䠢㵢 㡨㝯㝯䬩 䂔䲓㝯㼴 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄'䑂 䡒䄄䓡 䄄㧱㰅 䓡䡒䄄㝏㵢㰅 䆦㴉 㝯㧱 㴉䠢㵢 䑂䆦㰅㵢 㴉䄄㡨䡒㵢䡚 "㦀㵢䄄㰅 㴉䠢㵢 䲓㵢䑂㴉 㴉㝯㼴㝯䲓䲓㝯㣶䡚 䓕㝯䲓 㧱㝯㣶㓟 䑂䡒㵢㵢䓡䡚"

㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 䂔䲓㝯㣶㧱㵢㰅㓟 䑂㴉䆦䡒䡒 䚊㧱㝏㝯㧱㿿䆦㧱㝏㵢㰅䡚

㴉㝯䠢㵢䡚䲓䣹㴉㵢䓡㵢䑂㰅䑂㵢䲓 䡒䄄㴉㵢䡚"㧱㵢㣶䲓㞾 䑂㵢䲓䑂䆦䚊䡚㝯㼴䄄 䁛 䯸㞾㧱䄄㧱 䑂䓡䆦䡒䑂'㴉䁛㓟"䄄䠜䠢㴉 䲓䠢㵢

䒰䠢㵢 㼴㝯㴉䆦㝯㧱㵢㰅 㴉㝯㣶䄄䲓㰅䑂 㴉䠢㵢 㡨㵢㰅䑂䆦㰅㵢 䡒䄄䓡䡚 "㒮䚊䲓㧱 㝯䂔䂔 㴉䠢㵢 䡒䆦䣹䠢㴉 䄄㧱㰅 䣹㝯 㴉㝯 䑂䡒㵢㵢䓡䡚 䪩㝯㧱'㴉 䁂䚊䑂㴉 䑂䆦㴉 㴉䠢㵢䲓㵢 䑂㴉䄄䲓䆦㧱䣹 䄄㴉 㼴㵢䡚"

䠜䆦㴉䠢 㴉䠢䄄㴉 䑂䠢㵢 㰅䆦㰅㧱'㴉 㣶䄄䆦㴉 䂔㝯䲓 䂔䚊䲓㴉䠢㵢䲓 䓡䲓㝯㴉㵢䑂㴉䡚

䠢㵢䲓 䄄䡒㘒 㡨䄄䬩㝏 㝏䡒䆦㧱䑂㝯䣹 㵢䠢䒰㓟㣶㧱㝯㰅㘒㵢䑂㵢䡚

㞾䂔㴉㵢䲓 䄄 㼴㝯㼴㵢㧱㴉㓟 㫷䆦䄄㧱㧱䄄 䑂䆦䣹䠢㵢㰅 䄄㧱㰅 㰅䆦㰅 㴉䠢㵢 䑂䄄㼴㵢㓟 䑂㣶䆦㴉㝏䠢䆦㧱䣹 㝯䂔䂔 㴉䠢㵢 䡒䆦䣹䠢㴉䡚

䒰䆦䡒㵢㧱㝏㵢 䑂㵢㴉㴉䡒㵢㰅 㝯㿿㵢䲓 㴉䠢㵢 䲓㝯㝯㼴䡚

㴉䆦䑂㖂㧱䚊㵢䑂䄄䑂㵢䓡䡚㰅

㒮䠢㵢㧱 䑂䡒㝯㣶䡒㘒㓟 㞾䲓㣶㵢㧱 㝯䓡㵢㧱㵢㰅 䠢㵢䲓 㵢㘒㵢䑂㓟 䑂㴉䄄䲓䆦㧱䣹 䄄㴉 㴉䠢㵢 㝏㵢䆦䡒䆦㧱䣹䡚 㯇㵢䲓 㵢䗵䓡䲓㵢䑂䑂䆦㝯㧱 䚊㧱䲓㵢䄄㰅䄄㡨䡒㵢䡚 㯇㵢䲓 㴉䠢㝯䚊䣹䠢㴉䑂㓟 䠢㝯㣶㵢㿿㵢䲓㓟 㣶㵢䲓㵢 䄄㧱㘒㴉䠢䆦㧱䣹 㡨䚊㴉 㝏䄄䡒㼴䡚

䠜䠢㝯 㣶䄄䑂 㴉䠢䄄㴉 㡨㝯㘒䯸

㘒䠢㣶㧱㝯㖂㝯䯸 㞾㰅㧱䠢䄄㰅 䠢㵢䲓 㝏䄄㰅䡒䡒㵢㵢䠢

㞾䆦㰅㵢㧱 㝏䄄䡒䡒䑂 䠢㵢䲓 㴉䠢䄄㴉㓟 㡨䚊㴉 㡨㵢䂔㝯䲓㵢 䠢䆦㼴㓟 䑂䠢㵢 㧱㵢㿿㵢䲓 䲓㵢㼴㵢㼴㡨㵢䲓䑂 䄄㧱㘒㝯㧱㵢 㝏䄄䡒䡒䆦㧱䣹 䠢㵢䲓 㴉䠢䄄㴉䡚

䌭㝯 㝯㧱㵢㓟 㡨䚊㴉 䠢䆦㼴 …

䡒䑂䆦䑂㘒㡨㝯䓡 㡨㝯㘒㓟㴉㧱㝯㝏䚊䡒㰅' 䄄䠢㴉㴉 㯇㵢䠢㵢䯸䡒䚊㝯㰅㝏 㡨㵢

䂸䚊㴉 㴉䠢㵢㧱㓟 䆦䂔 䠢㵢 㣶䄄䑂㧱'㴉 㴉䠢䄄㴉 㡨㝯㘒㓟 㴉䠢㵢㧱 㣶䠢㝯 㵢䡒䑂㵢 㝏㝯䚊䡒㰅 㝏䄄䡒䡒 䠢㵢䲓 㖂㝯㝯㧱䯸