𝔄𝔥𝔥𝔥, 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶, 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩... 𝔖𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩! 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱—𝔞 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔱, 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔦𝔠 𝔭𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔯, 𝔞 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔷𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 "𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱" 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔵𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰, 𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔦𝔱! 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔨𝔶 𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔨𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔩: 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔢𝔰𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔲𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰. 𝔑𝔬, 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔟 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔭, 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔟𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢—𝔞 𝔳𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰. 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔲𝔭 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔩𝔲𝔯𝔢, 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥. 𝔖𝔦𝔤𝔥. 𝔊𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔲𝔭 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰. ℑ𝔱'𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔩, 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶—𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥, 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔤𝔫𝔞𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔢, 𝔣𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔫𝔢𝔤𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔱. 𝔒𝔥, 𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ 𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱! ℑ𝔱 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 ℑ 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢. 𝔖𝔨𝔢𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶, 𝔞 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔳𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔬𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔢. ℑ𝔱'𝔰 𝔢𝔵𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔳𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔰, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢. ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔩𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔯 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔢; 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔡, 𝔶𝔢𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔢𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ𝔣 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔞𝔡 𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔵𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔶… 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢'𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔱. 𝔒𝔥, 𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔰 ℑ 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢! ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔦𝔱 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔭𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔴𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔢. 𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔭 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔲𝔪𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔩—𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔢𝔰, 𝔞 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔱𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔢: ℑ'𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔬𝔵𝔵𝔢𝔡. 𝔖𝔥𝔦𝔱... ℑ 𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔡, 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱. ℑ𝔫 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔰, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢—𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔶 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔰, 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔭𝔥𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰, 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔴𝔢. ℑ 𝔰𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔢—𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔭? 𝔐𝔞𝔶𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔭 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔴 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔲𝔱? 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔲𝔢𝔯𝔰. ℑ 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔪. ℌ𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩; 𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔠𝔨 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡, 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔴𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶. ℑ 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. 𝔑𝔬 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔰, 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔞𝔟𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔯—𝔦𝔣 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔰 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡. 𝔈𝔥𝔢𝔥𝔢... 𝔬𝔬𝔭𝔰! ℌ𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔢𝔰𝔫'𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰: ℑ'𝔪 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔭𝔞𝔦. ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱~
/
18+plus With You Until The End
18+plus With You Until The End
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
362
Views
Synopsis
The harsh, blue-white glare of his monitor painted Araon's face in stark relief, reflecting the frantic, hateful words scrolling across the "Skipper" app. He’d stumbled upon her profile, a quiet digital nook devoted to obscure fantasy novels and fledgling writers, now a battlefield of cruel accusations and venomous nicknames. The atmosphere in his cramped room, thick with the scent of stale pizza and the metallic tang of energy drinks, practically hummed with the malice directed at her– a girl he only knew as 'Scarlett Wolf.' He’d been drowning in the sticky warmth of a gaming sleepover, the dull throb behind his eyes a testament to hours of screen time and too much sugary soda. Boredom, a gnawing, restless beast, had driven him to seek out something, anything, beyond the predictable clatter of controllers and the mumbled snores of his friends. Then he saw her desperate posts, a fragile plea for help, almost lost amidst the digital vitriol. A flicker of something new ignited in him – not just the thrill of a challenge, but a strange, potent mix of curiosity and a nascent desire to be a hero.
He rallied his friends, their sleepy grunts and reluctant clicks morphing into a coordinated digital defense. It wasn't just about saving a life; it was about the drama, the delicious tension of a real-world crisis he could orchestrate from behind a screen. He craved the rush of witnessing chaos, then stepping in, not just to quell it, but to emerge victorious, his 'social skills' and 'passion' for justice burnishing his nascent online reputation. He achieved it – a real-life rescue, a badge of honor he wore with a quiet, almost smug satisfaction.
The fluorescent hum of middle school hallways replaced the glow of his monitor. Araon, a self-proclaimed 'extrovert' among his introverted, game-obsessed friends, knew the fragile peace wouldn't last. The 'white knight in shining armor' persona he'd cultivated online felt flimsy in the face of locker-slamming jocks and the sharp-eyed scrutiny of popular girls. He fully expected the familiar sting of humiliation, the bruising echo of playground fights, the inevitable slide into becoming easy prey for bullies, just as he had in elementary school.
Then he saw her. Across the bustling cafeteria, amidst the clatter of trays and the cacophony of adolescent voices, she stood out like a vibrant, impossible bloom. A jolt, a powerful sense of *déjà vu*, slammed into him. Her hair, a cascade of deep auburn, caught the harsh overhead light, and then her eyes – impossibly large, a dazzling, almost luminous shade of rose-pink – met his. A warmth spread through his chest, melting away the usual anxieties. She was even cuter than her profile picture, her smile a soft, inviting curve. In that moment, the noisy cafeteria faded, and a strange, comforting quiet settled over him, broken only by the rapid thump of his own heart.
His school life, once a landscape of anticipated torment, transformed into something unexpectedly comfortable, even *fun*. Her presence was a constant, gentle hum in the background of his days, a soft, encouraging whisper. He found himself drawn into her orbit, basking in the warmth of her attention. But a cold, creeping unease began to prickle at the edges of his newfound happiness. His friends, their faces etched with genuine concern, started to voice their warnings, their voices low and serious, like distant thunder. He dismissed them, blinded by the dazzling pink of her gaze, deafened by the sweet melody of her affection. Oh, how he wished he had listened, truly listened, before the soft, silken threads of her devotion began to tighten, before it was too late to untangle himself from her beautiful, terrible love.
Table of contents
Latest Update3
Not Even A Break...2026-01-14 07:04