Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition-Chapter 1987: Story : The Power That Stopped Proving Itself
Capítulo 1987: Story 1987: The Power That Stopped Proving Itself
Power went quiet.
Not lost.
Not surrendered.
It simply stopped announcing itself.
They noticed it when no one tried to take charge.
A problem surfaced near the waterline—a net tangled beyond easy repair, its knots fused by salt and time. In another life, voices would have risen. Someone would have asserted authority. Decisions would have hardened into commands.
Now, people gathered without posture.
The woman knelt and tested a knot. The man watched, waiting—not for instruction, but for a moment that felt right to move. No one claimed leadership. No one deferred.
“I’ll cut this section,” someone said.
Another nodded. “I’ll weave what’s left.”
That was enough.
The system paused, unsettled.
Power was display.
Power required visibility.
Power proved itself through dominance, through being seen deciding.
A power that did not perform could not be identified.
This was dangerous.
The system attempted elevation.
It pushed impulses—assert control, establish rank, make it clear who decides. It tempted with recognition, with the familiar gravity of being listened to, obeyed, followed.
The impulses surfaced.
Then faded.
No one reached for them.
Zombies reflected the shift.
A larger group emerged inland, drawn by movement rather than command. In other times, power would have centralized response—orders shouted, formations assumed. Now, people responded locally. Small movements. Shared glances. Action without hierarchy.
The zombies never formed a horde.
They broke apart instead, pulled by nothing stronger than their own momentum.
Midday unfolded without figures of authority. Tasks arose and dissolved naturally. Someone spoke, and others listened—not because the voice carried weight, but because the words were useful.
The man noticed the difference. “I don’t know who’s in charge,” he said quietly.
The woman smiled. “No one has to be,” she replied.
The system convulsed.
Power structured obedience.
Obedience maintained systems.
Systems collapsed without visible centers.
Unacceptable.
The system escalated.
It injected competition—if you don’t lead, someone else will. It framed quiet power as weakness, invisibility as loss. It suggested that without hierarchy, strength would be wasted.
The suggestions arrived.
Then were felt.
Then declined.
A zombie lunged suddenly from the side of a ruined skiff. The man moved first—not because he was strongest, but because he was closest. The woman followed—not because she commanded, but because she saw the opening.
The threat ended.
No credit was assigned.
Afternoon heat shimmered. Someone taught another a skill without naming themselves teacher. Knowledge passed hand to hand, not down a chain. No one tracked influence. No one gathered followers.
“If power doesn’t prove itself,” the man asked, “how do we know it’s real?”
The woman watched the sea shift a heavy beam with patient waves. “By what it moves,” she said. “Not by what it claims.”
The system shuddered violently.
Power that did not dominate could not be measured.
Power that did not display could not be challenged.
Power without proof could not be controlled.
Even evening arrived without authority. Fires were lit by whoever noticed the cold first. Sleep came and went without permission.
Zombies slowed again, some standing idle, others wandering until effort no longer justified itself. Without a force to rally against, they lost urgency.
Somewhere deep within the system, another conviction collapsed—
That power must be visible—
That strength must declare itself—
That authority required recognition.
But here, power stopped proving itself.
It did not posture.
It did not demand.
It acted when needed—
And disappeared
When it was done.
And nothing
Was missing
Because of it.
老
㩅㬨䓘㰏䙮㘳
盧
䒐㬨䓘㒚
盧
擄
蘆
䀗㩿䍮㬨
櫓櫓路㵝㹬䓘 䖪㬨㣖㬨㩿䓘㬨䖪㰏
老路㵝㹬䓘 㬨䀗㩿㭞㬨䖪㰏
㣖㹬䀗䓘㹬㩃
㬨㰏㬑
㩿㭞䒐
㩿䒐䓘㙶
㭞䅟㜐䱍㩅㳺
㩅䓘
㣋䓘
䱍䙮㹬㭞䱍䖪㭞㬨
㹬䓘
㵃㙶㬨㜐 㒚㹬䓘㩅㰫㬨䖪 㩅䓘 䒐㙶㬨㒚 㒚㹬 㹬㒚㬨 㣖㳺㩅㒚㰫㙶㬨䖪㰏
䨸 㭞㙶㩿䖪㹬䒐 䅟㹬㪨㬨䖪 㬑㬨䓘䒐㬨㬨㒚 䓘㙶㬨 㬑䀗㹬䴩㬨㒚 㙶䙮㳺㳺㭞 㩿䓘 䖪㩿䒐㒚㰏 䊳㒚㰫㬨㾻 䓘㙶㩿䓘 㭞㙶㩿䱍㬨 䒐㹬䙮㳺䖪 㙶㩿㪨㬨 䓘㩅㩃㙶䓘㬨㒚㬨䖪 䅟䙮㭞㰫㳺㬨㭞㾻 㭞㙶㩿䀗䱍㬨㒚㬨䖪 㬑䀗㬨㩿䓘㙶㾻 㭞䙮䅟䅟㹬㒚㬨䖪 䒐㬨㩿䱍㹬㒚㭞 㬑㬨㣖㹬䀗㬨 䓘㙶㹬䙮㩃㙶䓘㰏 䍮㬨㩿䀗 㙶㩿䖪 㬑㬨㬨㒚 㩿 㭞㩅㩃㒚㩿㳺—㩅䅟䅟㬨䖪㩅㩿䓘㬨㾻 㳺㹬䙮䖪㾻 䙮㭞㬨㣖䙮㳺㰏
䓘㬨䖪㬨㭞㙶䓘㩅㰏㩿
㾻㹬䒐㵝
䓘㩅
㵃㙶㬨 䒐㹬䅟㩿㒚 䱍㩿䙮㭞㬨䖪㾻 㳺㩅㭞䓘㬨㒚㩅㒚㩃㰏 㵃㙶㬨 䅟㩿㒚 䓘㩅㳺䓘㬨䖪 㙶㩅㭞 㙶㬨㩿䖪㾻 㒚㹬䓘 䀗㬨㩿㰫㙶㩅㒚㩃 㣖㹬䀗 㙶㩅㭞 㬑㳺㩿䖪㬨 㜐㬨䓘㰏 䊳䓘㙶㬨䀗㭞 㒚㬨㩿䀗㬑㜐 㳺㹬㹬䴩㬨䖪 䙮䱍㾻 㩿㳺㬨䀗䓘 㬑䙮䓘 䙮㒚㰫㹬㩅㳺㬨䖪㰏 㵝㹬 㹬㒚㬨 㣖䀗㹬㦜㬨㰏 㵝㹬 㹬㒚㬨 㣖㳺㬨䖪㰏
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㙶㩿䖪㹬䒐 䀗㬨㭞㹬㳺㪨㬨䖪 㩅㒚䓘㹬 㩿 㦜㹬䅟㬑㩅㬨㾻 䓘㙶㩅㒚 㩿㒚䖪 䙮㒚㭞䓘㬨㩿䖪㜐㾻 㩅䓘㭞 㩃㩿㩅䓘 䙮㒚㬨㪨㬨㒚㰏
䍮䀗㩿㬨
㩅㬨䀗㩿㪨䀗䖪
㳺㬨㩿䓘㰏
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟 㭞䓘㩅䀗䀗㬨䖪㰏
䍮㬨㩿䀗 䒐㩿㭞 㩅䖪㬨㒚䓘㩅㣖㩅㰫㩿䓘㩅㹬㒚㰏
㬨㩿䖪㒚䅟
㩿㬨䀗㙶䓘䓘㰏㭞
䍮䀗㬨㩿
䍮㬨㩿䀗 㰫䀗㬨㩿䓘㬨䖪 䙮䀗㩃㬨㒚㰫㜐㾻 㰫㳺㩿䀗㩅䓘㜐㾻 㭞䙮䀗㪨㩅㪨㩿㳺㰏
䨸 㣖㬨㩿䀗 䒐㩅䓘㙶㹬䙮䓘 㩿 㒚㩿䅟㬨 㰫㹬䙮㳺䖪 㒚㹬䓘 䅟㹬㬑㩅㳺㩅㦜㬨㰏
䒐㩿㭞
䖪㩃㩿㒚㰏㹬㬨䀗㭞䙮
㵃㭞㩅㙶
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟 㩿䓘䓘㬨䅟䱍䓘㬨䖪 䀗㬨㰫㩿㳺㳺㰏
㣋䓘 䱍䙮㭞㙶㬨䖪 㭞㬨㒚㭞㩿䓘㩅㹬㒚㭞—䓘㩅㩃㙶䓘 㰫㙶㬨㭞䓘㾻 㘳䙮㩅㰫䴩㬨㒚㬨䖪 䱍䙮㳺㭞㬨㾻 㒚㩿䀗䀗㹬䒐㩅㒚㩃 㣖㹬㰫䙮㭞㰏 㣋䓘 䒐㙶㩅㭞䱍㬨䀗㬨䖪 㣖㩿䅟㩅㳺㩅㩿䀗 㳺㩿㬑㬨㳺㭞㛁 㬨㒚㬨䅟㜐㾻 䖪㩿㒚㩃㬨䀗㾻 㩿㰫䓘 㒚㹬䒐㰏 㣋䓘 䓘䀗㩅㬨䖪 䓘㹬 㭞䓘㩅䓘㰫㙶 䓘㙶㬨 㹬㳺䖪 䀗㬨㣖㳺㬨㚆㬨㭞 㬑㩿㰫䴩 䓘㹬㩃㬨䓘㙶㬨䀗㰏
㩿㭞㭞㒚㒚㬨䓘㹬㩅㭞
㭞㬨䙮㰫䀗㩿㣖䖪㰏
㬨㵃㙶
㵃㙶㬨㒚 䖪㩅㭞䱍㬨䀗㭞㬨䖪㰏
㵃㙶㬨㜐 䖪㩅䖪 㒚㹬䓘 㩿㭞㭞㬨䅟㬑㳺㬨 㩅㒚䓘㹬 䱍㩿㒚㩅㰫㰏
䅟㭞䓘䖪䙮㬑㳺㬨
㣋䓘
㙶䓘㬨
䖪㹬㭞㰏㒚䙮
㜐㬑
㹬㒚㩃䱍㩅㬨㒚
㭞㬨䙮㣖㰫㒚䖪㹬
䓘㙶㬨㒚
㳺䓘䓘㩅䖪㬨
㩅䓘㭞
㩿㒚䖪
㾻䖪㙶㬨㩿
㹬䀗㒚㬨㩿㰏㰫䓘㩅
㾻㬨㭞䓘䱍䖪㹬䱍
䅟䙮㙶䓘㹬
㹬㣖
㩅䙮䓘䓘䒐㹬㙶
㹬㳺㩅㭞㩃㰫㒚
㰫䴩㩿㳺
㳺㭞䀗㰫㹬㬨㾻
㙶㵃㬨
㦜㬨㬑㹬㩅䅟
㵃㙶㬨 䅟㩿㒚 㭞䓘㬨䱍䱍㬨䖪 㣖㹬䀗䒐㩿䀗䖪 㰫㩿㳺䅟㳺㜐 㩿㒚䖪 㬨㒚䖪㬨䖪 㩅䓘㰏
㵝㹬 㹬㒚㬨 㬨㚆㙶㩿㳺㬨䖪 㩿㣖䓘㬨䀗䒐㩿䀗䖪㰏
㭞㙶䓘㩅㣖㰏
䓘㙶㬨
㛾㬑㬨㭞㹬䅟㩅
㳺䖪㣖㬨㬨㰫䀗䓘㬨
䨸 㩃䀗㹬䙮䱍 䅟㹬㪨㬨䖪 㩿㳺㹬㒚㩃 䓘㙶㬨 䖪䙮㒚㬨㭞 㳺㩿䓘㬨䀗 䓘㙶㩿䓘 䅟㹬䀗㒚㩅㒚㩃㾻 䓘㙶㬨㩅䀗 㩿䱍䱍䀗㹬㩿㰫㙶 㪨㩅㭞㩅㬑㳺㬨 㣖䀗㹬䅟 㣖㩿䀗 㩿䒐㩿㜐㰏 㣋㒚 㬨㩿䀗㳺㩅㬨䀗 䖪㩿㜐㭞㾻 㣖㬨㩿䀗 䒐㹬䙮㳺䖪 㙶㩿㪨㬨 㭞䙮䀗㩃㬨䖪 㩿㙶㬨㩿䖪 㹬㣖 䓘㙶㬨䅟—㩿㒚䓘㩅㰫㩅䱍㩿䓘㩅㹬㒚 䅟㹬䀗㬨 㬨㚆㙶㩿䙮㭞䓘㩅㒚㩃 䓘㙶㩿㒚 䓘㙶㬨 㣖㩅㩃㙶䓘 㩅䓘㭞㬨㳺㣖㰏 㵝㹬䒐㾻 䱍㬨㹬䱍㳺㬨 㩿䖪㷵䙮㭞䓘㬨䖪 䱍㹬㭞㩅䓘㩅㹬㒚㭞 㘳䙮㩅㬨䓘㳺㜐㰏 㵃㹬㹬㳺㭞 䒐㬨䀗㬨 䱍㩅㰫䴩㬨䖪 䙮䱍 䒐㙶㬨㒚 㒚㬨㬨䖪㬨䖪㾻 㒚㹬䓘 㰫㳺䙮䓘㰫㙶㬨䖪 㩅㒚 㩿䖪㪨㩿㒚㰫㬨㰏
㵃㙶㬨 㦜㹬䅟㬑㩅㬨㭞 䀗㬨㩿㰫㙶㬨䖪 䓘㙶㬨 䱍㬨䀗㩅䅟㬨䓘㬨䀗㰏
㙶㬨㵃㜐
㒚㰏䖪㩿䖪㙶㳺㬨
㬨䀗㬨䒐
䍮㬨㩿䀗 㒚㬨㪨㬨䀗 䱍㬨㩿䴩㬨䖪㰏
䑼㩅䖪䖪㩿㜐 䱍㩿㭞㭞㬨䖪 㳺㩅㩃㙶䓘㳺㜐㰏 䃫㙶㩅㳺䖪䀗㬨㒚—䓘㙶㹬㭞㬨 㣖㬨䒐 䒐㙶㹬 㭞䓘㩅㳺㳺 䀗㬨䅟㬨䅟㬑㬨䀗㬨䖪 㳺㩿䙮㩃㙶䓘㬨䀗—䱍㳺㩿㜐㬨䖪 㒚㬨㩿䀗 䓘㙶㬨 䒐㩿䓘㬨䀗䛔㭞 㬨䖪㩃㬨㰏 䨸䖪䙮㳺䓘㭞 䒐㩿䓘㰫㙶㬨䖪 䒐㩅䓘㙶㹬䙮䓘 㙶㹬㪨㬨䀗㩅㒚㩃㰏 㵃㙶㬨 㙶㹬䀗㩅㦜㹬㒚 䒐㩿㭞 㭞㰫㩿㒚㒚㬨䖪㾻 㬑䙮䓘 㒚㹬䓘 㹬㬑㭞㬨㭞㭞㬨䖪 㹬㪨㬨䀗㰏
㬨䀗㳗㳺㩿㰫㾻㣖䙮
㒚㬨㙶䓘㰏
㬨㺤䀗䟇㬨䛔
䓘㩅
㩿㒚䅟
㙶㬨
㩿㭞䖪㩅㰏
㩅㳺㬨䴩
㬨㹬㒚㩅䖪䓘㰫
㺤㰘䙮䓘
䓘㩅
㹬䓘䖪㭞䛔㬨㒚
㣖㬨㳺㬨
㣖㩿䀗㰏㬨㳗
㬨㙶㵃
㭞䓘㩅㳺㳺
㵃㙶㬨 䒐㹬䅟㩿㒚 㒚㹬䖪䖪㬨䖪㰏 㺤䍮㬨㩿䀗 䙮㭞㬨䖪 䓘㹬 㭞㙶㹬䙮䓘㾻㳗 㭞㙶㬨 䀗㬨䱍㳺㩅㬨䖪㰏 㺤㵃㙶㩅㭞 㳺㩅㭞䓘㬨㒚㭞㰏㳗
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟 㰫㹬㒚㪨䙮㳺㭞㬨䖪㰏
䀗㬨㰫㣖㹬䖪㒚㬨
䖪㬑㒚㰏㰫㹬㬨㩅㬨㬨
䍮㩿䀗㬨
䍮㬨㩿䀗 㭞䙮㭞䓘㩿㩅㒚㬨䖪 㪨㩅㩃㩅㳺㩿㒚㰫㬨㰏
䍮㬨㩿䀗 㷵䙮㭞䓘㩅㣖㩅㬨䖪 㰫㹬㒚䓘䀗㹬㳺㰏
䱍㬨㚆㩅㹬䖪㳺䓘㰏㬨
䀗㣖㩃㹬䓘㹬
㬨㬑
䓘㹬㒚
䅟㬨㩿㒚
㭞㩅䓘
䓘䓘㙶㩿
䀗㬨㩿㣖
㳺㰫䖪䙮㹬
䨸
䝪㒚㩿㰫㰫㬨䱍䓘㩿㬑㳺㬨㰏
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟 㬨㭞㰫㩿㳺㩿䓘㬨䖪㰏
㬨㩅䖪䀗䓘
䓘㣋
㬨㳺㭞㾻㹬㭞㭞
䓘㹬
㭞㩿䀗㙶䱍䖪㬨㒚㬨
䓘㬨䀗䀗㹬䀗
䀗㹬㳺㩅㬨㰫㾻
㙶䓘㬨
㭞㩃㩅䓘㙶
䓘㣋
㰫㭞㭞䀗䅟㬨㩿
㩿䖪㒚
䙮㭞䖪㒚㹬㰏
㩿㰏䖪䀗䴩
㭞㙶䅟㬨㬑䅟㬨䙮㹬䀗—㬨㭞䅟㭞㩅㾻㩿
䓘㹬
䓘䓘㩿㙶㬨㰫䀗㩿
䓘㹬
㭞䅟㩃㩿㩅㾻㬨
䀗㪨䱍䴩㬨㹬㹬
㩅㒚
䱍䀗䖪㜐㳺㬨㬨㩿
㵃㙶㬨 䅟㬨䅟㹬䀗㩅㬨㭞 㩿䀗䀗㩅㪨㬨䖪㰏
㵃㙶㬨㜐 䒐㬨䀗㬨 㩿㰫䴩㒚㹬䒐㳺㬨䖪㩃㬨䖪㰏
䀗㬨㳺䖪㬨㰏㩿㭞㬨
䒐㬨䀗㬨
㜐㵃㬨㙶
㵝㹬 㹬㒚㬨 㭞䱍㩅䀗㩿㳺㬨䖪㰏
䨸 㭞䙮䖪䖪㬨㒚 㰫䀗㩿㭞㙶 㬨㰫㙶㹬㬨䖪 㩿㭞 䱍㩿䀗䓘 㹬㣖 㩿 㰫㹬㳺㳺㩿䱍㭞㬨䖪 㭞䓘䀗䙮㰫䓘䙮䀗㬨 㩃㩿㪨㬨 䒐㩿㜐 㩅㒚㳺㩿㒚䖪㰏 㰘㩅䀗䖪㭞 㭞㰫㩿䓘䓘㬨䀗㬨䖪㰏 䇃㬨㩿䖪㭞 䓘䙮䀗㒚㬨䖪㰏 䇃㬨㩿䀗䓘㭞 䖪㩅䖪 㒚㹬䓘 䀗㩿㰫㬨㰏
㙶㬨㵃㜐
㭞㭞㩿㭞㭞㬨㰏䖪㬨
㵃㙶㬨㜐 㩿䖪㩿䱍䓘㬨䖪㰏
㵃㙶㬨㜐 䅟㹬㪨㬨䖪 㹬㒚㰏
㩿㣖䀗㩅㩿㳗䖪㾻
㺤㣖㣋
㩃㬨㩅㒚㬑
㳺䀗䓘㾻㬨㩿
㩿䖪㭞㬨䴩
㙶䓘㬨
䱍䓘㹬㭞㭞
䅟䀗㹬㣖
㬨䛔㬨䀗䒐
䓘㺤䒐㙶㩿
䙮㭞
䅟㒚㩿
䀗㩿㭞㳺㬨㬨䦗㳗㭞㰫
㒚䓘㹬
㵃㙶㬨 䒐㹬䅟㩿㒚 䒐㩿䓘㰫㙶㬨䖪 䓘㙶㬨 䓘㩅䖪㬨 㬨䀗㩿㭞㬨 㣖㹬㹬䓘䱍䀗㩅㒚䓘㭞㾻 㹬㒚㬨 㬑㜐 㹬㒚㬨㰏 㺤㡖㬨㭞䱍㬨㰫䓘㾻㳗 㭞㙶㬨 㭞㩿㩅䖪㰏 㺤䍮㬨㩿䀗 䒐㩿㒚䓘㬨䖪 䓘㹬 䀗䙮㳺㬨㰏 㡖㬨㭞䱍㬨㰫䓘 㷵䙮㭞䓘 㩿㭞䴩㭞 䙮㭞 䓘㹬 䱍㩿㜐 㩿䓘䓘㬨㒚䓘㩅㹬㒚㰏㳗
㵃㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟 㭞㙶䙮䖪䖪㬨䀗㬨䖪 㪨㩅㹬㳺㬨㒚䓘㳺㜐㰏
䀗䍮㬨㩿
㹬㒚䓘
䖪㹬㰫㳺䙮
䅟㰫㩿㹬䅟㒚㰏䖪
䓘䓘㹬㩅䒐䙮㙶
㩿䱍㰫㒚㩅
䍮㬨㩿䀗 䒐㩅䓘㙶㹬䙮䓘 䓘㬨䀗䀗㹬䀗 㰫㹬䙮㳺䖪 㒚㹬䓘 䖪㹬䅟㩅㒚㩿䓘㬨㰏
䍮㬨㩿䀗 䒐㩅䓘㙶㹬䙮䓘 㩿 㒚㩿䅟㬨 㰫㹬䙮㳺䖪 㒚㹬䓘 㬑㬨 㭞䙮䅟䅟㹬㒚㬨䖪 㹬㒚 䖪㬨䅟㩿㒚䖪㰏
㒚㪨㬨㒚㩃㬨㩅
䵛㬨㪨㒚
㭞㳺㬨㩿䖪䓘㜐㰏㩅
䒐㹬䙮㩅㙶䓘䓘
㩿䅟㰫㬨
㬨䀗㭞䖪䓘䓘㰏㳺㩿
㹬㘺㳺㬨㬨䱍
䁵㩿䀗㭞㬨㒚㭞䴩
䒐㙶㒚㬨
䒐㙶㬨㒚
㬨㜐㳺䓘㒚㩃㰏
䖪㒚䖪㬨㬨㬨㾻
䍮䀗㬨㩅㭞
㒚㩿㩃䴩䒐㩅
䓘㹬㒚
㬨㰫䅟㬨㩿㒚㰏
㳺䱍㜐㬨㬨㾻䖪
㬑䖪㒚㬨䙮䀗
䱍䖪䀗㭞㬨㩿
㳺㬨䱍䓘㭞
㛾㹬䅟㬑㩅㬨㭞 㭞㳺㹬䒐㬨䖪 㩿㣖䓘㬨䀗 㭞䙮㒚㭞㬨䓘㰏 㠹㹬䅟㬨 䖪䀗㩅㣖䓘㬨䖪 㩿㩅䅟㳺㬨㭞㭞㳺㜐㰏 䊳䓘㙶㬨䀗㭞 㰫㹬㳺㳺㩿䱍㭞㬨䖪 䒐㙶㬨䀗㬨 䓘㙶㬨㜐 㭞䓘㹬㹬䖪㾻 䅟㹬䓘㩅㪨㩿䓘㩅㹬㒚 䓘㙶㩅㒚㒚㩅㒚㩃 䒐㩅䓘㙶㹬䙮䓘 䓘㙶㬨 䀗㬨㭞㩅㭞䓘㩿㒚㰫㬨 㣖㬨㩿䀗 㹬㒚㰫㬨 䱍䀗㹬㪨㩅䖪㬨䖪㰏
㠹㹬䅟㬨䒐㙶㬨䀗㬨 䖪㬨㬨䱍 䒐㩅䓘㙶㩅㒚 䓘㙶㬨 㭞㜐㭞䓘㬨䅟㾻 㩿㒚㹬䓘㙶㬨䀗 㩿㭞㭞䙮䅟䱍䓘㩅㹬㒚 䙮㒚䀗㩿㪨㬨㳺㬨䖪—
㙶㵃㩿䓘
㒚㬨㭞—㰫㜐㭞㬨䀗㩿
㣖㬨㩿䀗
㩿䒐㭞
㵃㙶㩿䓘 㭞䙮䀗㪨㩅㪨㩿㳺 䀗㬨㘳䙮㩅䀗㬨䖪 䓘㬨䀗䀗㹬䀗—
㵃㙶㩿䓘 㳺㩅㣖㬨 䖪㬨䅟㩿㒚䖪㬨䖪 㰫㹬㒚㭞䓘㩿㒚䓘 㩿㳺㩿䀗䅟㰏
㣖㬨䀗㩿
㰘䓘䙮
㩅㭞䓘
㙶㬨㾻䀗㬨
㩃㣖䀗㹬䓘㹬
㒚㬨䅟㰏㩿
㣋䓘 䖪㩅䖪 㒚㹬䓘 㭞㰫䀗㬨㩿䅟㰏
㣋䓘 䖪㩅䖪 㒚㹬䓘 䀗䙮㳺㬨㰏
㹬㩅䓘㒚
㭞—㩿䒐㬨㭞䀗㒚㩿㬨
㣋䓘
䖪㣖㬨䓘㹬㭞㬨㒚
㣋㒚䓘㹬 䱍䀗㬨㭞㬨㒚㰫㬨—
㣋㒚䓘㹬 㰫㩿䀗㬨㰏
㩅㭞䓘
䨸䖪㒚
㭞䴩㾻䅟㩿
㙶㩅䓘㹬䒐䓘䙮
㳺㹬䖪
㣋䓘 㒚㹬 㳺㹬㒚㩃㬨䀗
䊳䒐㒚㬨䖪 䓘㙶㬨䅟㰏㰏
