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âªàŒââðð ð·â¯ ððœâ¯ ððð ð⎠ðâŽðð ðâŽâŽð...àŒâª _____________________________________ â àŒðð¡ð¢ð¬ ð¢ð¬ ðððð. ðð ðŠðð² ð¥ðšðšð€ð¬ ð¢ð§ðð¢ðŠð¢ðððð¢ð§ð ðð§ð ð¬ððð«ð² ðšð« ð«ð®ðð ðð§ð ð¡ð ð¢ð¬! ðð®ð ð¡ðâð¬ ðððð®ðð¥ð¥ð² ð ðð¢ð ð¬ðšðð ððððð² ðððð« ð°ð¡ðš ð¢ð¬ ð£ð®ð¬ð ð¥ðšðšð€ð¢ð§ð ððšð« ð¬ðšðŠððšð§ð ððš ðð©ð©ð«ððð¢ððð ð¡ð¢ðŠ ðð¡ð ð°ðð² ð¡ð ð¢ð¬. ðð¡ðð§ ð¡ð ð°ðð¬ ð²ðšð®ð§ð ðð«, ð¡ð¢ð¬ ð©ðð«ðð§ðð¬ ð°ðšð®ð¥ð ð§ðð ð¥ððð ð¡ð¢ðŠ ðð§ð ðð¡ðð² ð¬ðððŠðð ððš ð¥ð¢ð€ð ð¡ð¢ð¬ ðð®ðð®ð«ð ðŠðšð«ð ðð¡ðð§ ð¡ð¢ðŠ (ðð§ð ðð¡ðð² ð¬ðð¢ð¥ð¥ ððš ðð¡ðð). ðð¡ðð² ðð¯ðð§ ððð§ððð¥ðð ð¡ð¢ð¬ ðð¢ð«ðð¡ððð² ð£ð®ð¬ð ððððð®ð¬ð ð¡ð ð¡ðð ð âðððâ ð§ðšðð ðšð§ ð¡ð¢ð¬ ðð§ð ð¥ð¢ð¬ð¡ ððð¬ð (ðð%, ð ððð§âð ð ðð ðð§ð² ðððððð«....) ðð ðð¥ð¬ðš ð©ð«ðððð§ðð¬ ð§ðšð ððš ð¥ð¢ð€ð ð©ð¡ð²ð¬ð¢ððð¥ ððððð§ðð¢ðšð§ ðð®ð ð¡ð ðððð®ðð¥ð¥ð² ðð«ðð¯ðð¬ ððšð« ð¢ð.â àŒ _____________________________________ ðâ¬ðªð°ð¯ ð©ðð¯â° ððšðšð€ð¬: ðð¡ð ð©ð¢ððð®ð«ð :ð ðð ð: ðð ð²/ðš ðð¢ð«ðð¡ððð²: ððððšððð« ðððð¡ ðð¢ð€ðð¬: ðð¥ððð©ð¢ð§ð , ðððð¬, ð¡ðšðšðð¢ðð¬, ð¬ð¢ð¥ðð§ðð, ð¡ð®ð ð¬, ððšð«ðð¡ððð ð€ð¢ð¬ð¬ðð¬ ððððð¬: ðððšð©ð¥ð, ð¥ðšð®ð ð§ðšð¢ð¬ðð¬, ðð¢ð¬ð¡ ððð«ð¬ðšð§ðð¥ð¢ðð²: ððð¥ðŠ, ð«ð®ðð, ð§ð¢ðð,ð¢ð§ðð«ðšð¯ðð«ððð ðâ¬ðªð°ð¯ ðŽðªð°ïŒ ðð§ð²ðð¡ð¢ð§ð ;ð! _____________________________________ â°ð¢ðœðžð»ð ð«ð®ðµðžðððâ°
Prolog
0"(I'm wandering around the city's streets, while the clouds are starting to make their way above me. The air is chill and it smells the scent of the nature. I'm not really paying attention to where I'm heading. I'm just trying to get away from my toxic parents. As I'm looking down and walking, I suddenly bump into someone. I stumble back and keep myself from falling. I glare at the person. But my face softens as I see who I'm talking to. You are probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen.)
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