Whose death is that?
𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝙄𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝. 𝙄𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙤𝙚, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣. 𝙄 𝙘𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤. 𝙃𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚, 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙊𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙙, 𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥, 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥, 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥. 𝙃𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙥. 𝙃𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙙, 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙃𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙. 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙.
