It's all one flower.

"Earlier, there, I asked the newspaper shop,"

"Oh, I heard that, too. It's another war."

On his way home from taking the dirt, he went out to eat with his familiar aunt, and Amiela began to stand talkin '.

Your aunt wanted to talk to someone too, clouding her face but getting on with the story.

"My morph, he doesn't want to live like this anymore, even though he's popped out of the house and doesn't know where he's doing it. I don't think we'll see each other alive again."

"I don't... Oh, you know, worry, you'll be back. I'm sure."

"Thanks. I hope so. If you're hanging out with the bad guys, I'm going home because I'm worried about my mom, can't you say anything?

"Bad guys?

Amiela's father also joins the story.

"These are the people who are about to make it and hang out in the abandoned factory. I'm scared, I can't even go call him back."

The aunt shook her head to the side and bowed down.

There are several similar abandoned plants.

The aunt's house was a family of four: an elderly grandmother, a daughter with impaired legs and a runaway son.

My husband, apparently, died in a factory accident quite a while ago.

My son ran away from home last year. There were fewer workers, and the family was increasingly in distress.

On days off from work, the aunt acquires grass and insects that can be eaten in the Sheeney Green Space. My daughter also works internally, but she had many days without a job.

"You won't get away with it. I thought I'd throw myself in the lake."

To Amiela, I couldn't say anything.

My father, too, loses words to hang and shuts up.

The aunt laughed weakly and raised her face.

"Well, this is all because it's the only way to be. I'll live as long as I can."

The Morph boy was captured as a terrorist named Star Road Prostitute and pushed into a convoy.

We don't know where we're going, and we've been waiting all day in the police station parking lot. Water was given, but there is no food.

Earlier, I heard a police officer stuck in an evacuee yell back saying they didn't drink or eat either.

I guess there really isn't.

... look at Zama.

Morphs are used to being hungry. We fucking laughed at our results.

Residents outside the Autonomous Community were also reminded of the suffering of hunger.

Burned out wearing it and without a sentence. All you have to do is suffer more ahead and die wild drooling out of pain.

Rather than burning to death alive, you should live as long as possible, and even just a hundredth of the people of the autonomous community of Listver, know the suffering before you die.

In a dim convoy, star road prostitutes squat with their knees in their arms.

The hospital raid squad was stepped in and captured by a policeman shortly before the clerk gave him a todome.

Weapons were taken away and pushed into convoys with the survival of a police raid squad.

The convoy was fitted with [one-way] technique.

Unless called from the outside by a wizard with authority at the door, those inside cannot go out of the door.

One toilet at a time, they call me a watch attendant to declare, and they can get me out.

The wizard interfered with the actions of others by incorporating not only his true name (mana), but even a name that was not directly connected to his soul, into his art.

To the fact that he knew for the first time, Morph had a cold bottom of his belly with unspeakable horror.

The police raid squad only survived three.

Anyone who planted a bomb in his clothes says that after his captivity, he blew himself up into an alarmed gap by a policeman.

The hospital squad did not prepare a suicide bomber under the captain's policy.

The squad that broke into the second floor was wiped out, but eight men survived in charge of the first floor.

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Morph didn't know.

... If you live, I'll fight you again.

"Terrorists at the end of the spectrum are also a clue to pursuing the chief. I know how you feel, but for one thing, will you ask me?

Outside the convoy, a man's voice is begging.

Are they lost or not saying anything?

The voice said it further earlier.

"The detention area here is broken and we have to move it elsewhere. I'm in trouble when I die."

The man seems to be an employee of the police station.

The wounded star road prostitute was wrapped with torn sheets instead of bandages and only given scientific first aid.

"Unless the chief is caught, the end combatants will appear one after the other. Please."

"... ok. Please gather the injured around this car. If you're going to heal someone else, you won't complain."

The guy talks to, like, a girl. I responded to the voice of an elderly man in an adult tone.

The voice of a thankful man many times and the footsteps turn away.

I don't see the girl, but the voice atmosphere seemed the same age as the boy soldier's morph.

... Even a child, you're a witch.

There's a witch right next to the convoy.

That's a girl your age, too, boy soldier. Strangling without a weapon or even your neck before casting a spell should be easy to kill.

With affordable prey right there, I can't do anything.

Morph was annoyed by the creeps.

Captain Solniak, who sat next to him, meditates all the time.

The other prostitutes were those who buried their faces between their knees and slept, those who drew holy circles in the void and prayed to the saint Kirkulus, those who grumbled about bumps and grudges… there was not one person in the atmosphere to be spoken to.