It's all one flower.

Thin clouds cover the whole sky, but the wind is weak and the skin chills are not.

A helper brings firewood for cooking out of the warehouse. The church warehouse was stacked with firewood picked up in the Kublum Mountains.

The roads in the mountains opened up to the Zorata district, and Kufshenka stroked down her thin breasts.

... Glad I made it.

As the curse doctors of the people of that lake said, the soil and sand had also been removed (dusted) from the Zorata district side.

Excluded from the Listwer Autonomous Region side, the dirt sand was packed in a dirt sac and loaded in the Sheeney Green Space to sterilize it with the intention of being used for home gardens in the East District, but was moved to the church and primary and secondary school yards in the East District, as well as to the hospital yard in the Estate District.

... I hope it doesn't end up like using earthworms.

It's Halle Day.

Paying for the dark clouds that nearly stuck in his chest, the tailor's manager headed to the bride's holding room.

An old nigger and a neighbor woman are wearing festive clothing to the bride in place of a wedding costume.

It's a time of low flowers. Kufushenka said, putting a bouquet of flowers made with extra cloth on his desk.

"You look great, Mr. Viola."

"You look so beautiful."

"He's gonna fall back in love, too."

The wearing is over, and the women verbally praise the bride who haunts her. Viola dyed her cheeks and thanked her.

Viola lost her closeness in the February Great Fire, and the baby she had since given birth was also killed by her neighbor. He tried to die in the mountains of Kublum, but he could not die, and he went back to the Autonomous Communities to try to avenge the baby, but he could not fulfill it either.

I was finally helped when I threw myself at Lake Lacus.

The employee who transported her to the hospital frequently visited the hospital bed.

He's not close, either.

Now that the wounds have healed, he leaves the factory bachelor dorm and enters a different makeshift home than Viola used to live in, living for two.

According to what Kufshenka has heard in his biography, he is not, originally, a stranger at all.

The wedding was proposed by the factory manager.

"From that big fire, you're just a shitty Hanashi. Let's have a par celebration here."

Barack Street, in the East End, was burned down by the arson of the star sign (servant) and reborn into a completely different city. Barack Hut, there's not one more.

Water and sewer have been built and schools and so on have been rebuilt, but many lives have been lost and idle. There are few cars on the wide roads and the rebuilt shopping district is full of empty stores.

Imports, exports and domestic demand are lagging behind in the war, and factory jobs are decreasing.

Living in the Ristover Autonomous Region relied on support from foreign countries.

In addition, a coup d 'état took place in the capital by the Nemus Liberation Army, which aims to restore the theocracy, and the Fluxinus guerrilla, who vows revenge on the Artel Republic, named the "Nemoralis Grief Squad" and expanded its organization.

With all the dark news, people who were depressed jumped to a bright topic about ten months old. They were reluctant, but the story quickly spread and the wedding was ready.

"This is the time. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, and when I'm happy, don't be shy of anyone, just be happy."

An aunt in the neighborhood hands a bouquet of cloth to the bride.

Not a single cosmetic, but the young Viola's smile was as beautiful as it shined.

The chapel door opens.

A participant buried on the bench stands up and sings a psalm in solidarity.

"At the beginning of a day in the light rising east,

Heavenly Plains on the Path of the Shining Sun Wheel

Without anything hindering the pale aerial sky... "

From the open door to the front of the altar, the groom's substitute is the factory manager, and the tailor's store manager Kufshenka, instead of the bride's, walks slowly with the young two hands behind him.

The psalms are written in common language in the Bible, but in this region they are sung in Hunan.

"... the Ridge of the Day when the Heavenly Path (Ama 'i) is not even plugged and the earth is known."

Windy Passage (…) Blowing Cloud Passage (…) Flowing Bird Passage (…) Shocking

The protection of a day that shines brightly. "

Leaving the bride and groom in front of the altar, the factory manager and Kufushenka reached the bench in the front row.

In a dim chapel, only around the bride and groom, wrapped in festive clothing instead of wedding costumes, looks bright.

When the psalm was over and the people were seated, the serene and well-passed voice of the priest chanted a passage of the Bible.

"Do you swear to take the same path of holy stars when there is light in the path or when it is temporarily covered in darkness?"

"Yes! I swear!"

"I swear."

The powerful voice of the employees and the modest voice of Viola echoed the quiet chapel.

"The path leading to Happiness is far away, but the sun wheel illuminates brightly, and protects those who do not stray from evil. Even if the road is in darkness for a moment, if we do not lose sight of the guidance of the moon and the stars, it will reach dawn. Here are the lights of love and wisdom that we both dot and defend so that they are not blown out by any wind."

The priest prompts the bride and groom to pick a spark from the candle on the altar and light the central lamp. When the two put one lamp together, words of celebration were hung simultaneously by the participants.

In the blessing, the two put up a lamp and slowly head to the door.

The people who attended also went out under the thin winter days following the bride and groom.

In the church garden, there are no treats, but a soup of heartfelt soup stands hot and waiting.

The princess of the fixer who partitioned the preparations waved the difference and went to the attendees one drink at a time.

The poor are a splendid celebration where everyone stays in their normal clothes but does not take a pull on any ceremony Kufshenka has ever attended.

"There's a lot to live for, but if you're with a favorite Co, you can handle it. Become"

"Yes! Thank you. I'll do my best!"

The groom responded well to the factory manager's encouragement.

My colleagues bless the teasing mix and everyone laughs.

"The path you're going to take with your loved ones is bound to follow the morning light. Mr. Viola, we're going to protect him and the lights he lit so we don't lose sight of the road."

"Yes, thank you, Store Manager. From what to what..."

Viola clogged her voice and the neighbors who knew what was going on also wiped the tears of crying.

Though primitive, the ceremony opens with a sunny smile.

By the time I finished cleaning up, the sun was completely down.

"It's been a good ceremony for a long time. Thank you very much, priests."

"No, this is how I thank you for the happiness hemming…"

Kufshenka smiled back at the fearful priest.

"Because the factory manager, who went ahead and even paid for your meals, is the greatest credit."

The factory manager returned to work one foot away.

The only people in the church reception room are priests and nuns, Khushchenka and newspaper pavilion owners.

"Thanks to you, we've all been laughing at each other for a long time. It's the bride and groom, Samasama."

Out of the way, a laughing newspaperman returns to his face.

The old nigger also dropped his gaze on the thin tea.

"I pray that this happiness will last forever..."

"Ah. Apparently, it's starting to stink..."

The other day, the leading players of the estate district... especially the children of the star sign (servant) executives, disappeared.

It is not predation or kidnapping by demons.

He secretly escaped from the autonomous community of Listwar and headed to the airport of Topoli with the guide of the star nominees living outside the autonomous community.

That's all the information the newspaper guy grabbed.

The children's destination, according to information obtained by Kufshenka, was the Republic of Dykea.

The small countries of the Lake East region saw the end of the civil war last year and the Kirkurs came to power. As yet, no formal national traffic has been established with the Republic of Nemoralis, but exchanges at private level have begun.

"That being the case, there's no outside information available..."

An old nigger sighs.

A star plaque executive sent my son out of the country.

What that meant was obvious to everyone's eyes.