It's all one flower.

Farkill launched a video app for his tablet device, wondering if he would do anything different from how they were, although he didn't know what "record" was.

Employee Cruello's activated generator raises the roar. The girls took their notebooks and lined up next to the truck.

After a little while, at a volume unbeatable by its driving sound, the music began to play.

This is the first song I've ever heard, but I'm comfortable with melodies flowing on a light rhythm.

At the end of the prelude, the girls started singing.

"I'll bring you some delicious freshly baked bread..."

Farkill held his breath to support the tablet terminal and zoomed. Angle from the diagonal back, no picture of the three faces.

Thanks to the appropriately open distance, the singing was never scratched off by the driving sound of the generator.

Even after playing, the same song changes the instrument and plays again and again, and the girls sing to it repeatedly.

I record while charging, but even though it's sunny, video shooting is draining. For the fourth time, he fell in the middle of playing guitar.

I can't help it, so I listen to the girls' songs as I put the charger on the day.

The guitar ended and the three began to sing in unison, just as they had just done, in line with the rustic performance of the next streamed harmonica.

"I'll bring you freshly baked bread.

Plump and plump bread makes a smile

Big truck. Happy loading. We're all going from city to city today.

Fabric pinch. Raise it. Fermenting now.

Finish the dough. I'm cooking it now.

Your new light. Let's move from yesterday to today.

Hand-to-Hand Happy Split Everyone Lives a Day with a Smile

Big truck. Happy loading. We're going from city to city today.

Fabric pinch. Raise it. Fermenting now.

Finish the dough. I'm cooking it now.

We all share bread and be happy.

Bread is delicious. Share it.

Fabric pinch. Raise it. Fermenting now.

Finish the dough. I'm cooking it now.

Share the bread. Everybody smile.

Bread plump and everyone happy. "

... little ones, too, songs... you're good.

During the recording I concentrated on the work, but when I focused on listening, I realized how good the singing was.

Farkill, at the same time, remembered and fed up with idols appearing on the Song of the Fatherland Artel show.

Girls with a lovely vibe wear clothes packed with men's dreams, singing and dancing.

Of course (of course), I'm a professional who passed a highly competitive audition and took tough lessons, so I sing and dance well and have many fanatic fans.

The easy-to-understand lyrics for the masses are sometimes decadent, and the Kirkurist clergy and faithful adults sometimes frown, but generally accepted and commercially successful.

But Farkill really didn't like the popular song.

My classmates at school are unwilling to join the circle of stories, even if they are thriving on the topic of idols.

I know it's simply a matter of preference, but it doesn't resonate with Farkill's mind and he's not interested.

The songs of the girls now singing in front of me rocked Farkill's heart violently.

These are awkward lyrics made by amateur girls in a hurry.

There are no flashy performances for television, gorgeous ornaments, or flair for consumers here.

If we summarize the lyrics, we're simply telling them that we're bread merchants.

That's all the songs made Farkill forget the time had passed.

The song was all over, and the only driving noise of the generator around, sounded low.

A wizard employee, Cruillo, is talking to his sisters about something.

The truck driver clapped with a grin on his face. Furkill and the staff returned to me will be added, and the three girls will be sent a drink.

Farkill caged his utterly unspoken emotions in full swing and applause.

An employee goes to stop the generator, and the girls go back to the carrier.

He said he was going to do some work, but Farkill joined him in moving to a sunny spot with a charging terminal in his hand.

Eyes on the woods.

The people who went to collect the medicinal herbs looked small.

A truck driver looks north on the national highway.

Farkil turned south, and gazed at the end of the road, whether the carriage to the north would not come.

On the south side, a plain stretches between Lake Lacus and the forest, with horizons visible.

By the national highway, a sign stood in the drain. The last twenty kilometers to the city of Morniya.

Both sides of the national highway are dead fields as far as we can see. Only in the sun, the young leaves are adorable like a water hoard.

I watched enough, but I didn't see anything else in the group of migratory birds going back north.

... With that said, yesterday and today, you haven't seen Artel's air force aircraft.

I don't know the details of the war.

Until yesterday morning, when I lived in Artel, there were usually classes at school, the adults worked normally and the shops were normally open.

Even the island of Lanterna, closest to Nemoralis territory, was lively.

View the terminal at hand. My face was pictured on a dark screen that fell out of charge.

It's a tired face not so different from them. In such a scenario, I was still convinced that they had been lightly fooled by Farkill's lies.

Reduce the urge to visit news sites and wait for charges to accumulate.