Under the beautiful sunlight, on the pathway winding through the rye, we always saw Little Carl driving in the front while the three little birds stumbled along behind it. “Guchi. Guchi.” As though they were calling Little Carl dad. Their feathers had begun to grow and become fluffy; the three of them looked just like fluff balls.

Everyone who saw them would melt at their cuteness.

The three little birds began to recognize people too. Besides Raffles, Harry and I, no one else could touch them.

However, the children didn’t care much about such things and would always chase after them.

Hence, we would always see the three lucid birds running flusteredly in front while the children chased behind happily. Raffles’ warning that the lucid birds would become...