Once upon a time, there were tens of thousands of laying hens on a chicken farm.

Their daily lives were the same: eating feed, laying eggs, waiting for the next day.
Eggs to them were just a job.
They knew they would lay eggs, but had never seen eggs turn into chicks.
Day after day, year after year.
Gradually, they even forgot what laying eggs originally meant.
One day, the owner’s child walked into the henhouse holding a newly hatched chick.
In the usually noisy henhouse, everywhere was the clucking of hens.
Suddenly, that little chick chirped softly a few times.
Something strange happened.
The once noisy henhouse suddenly fell silent.
Tens of thousands of hens looked in the direction of the sound at the same time.
They didn’t know why they were attracted.
But that sound seemed to cut through time, awakening a memory long buried deep in their genes.
At that moment, they suddenly realized:
It turns out that the eggs they lay every day were meant to become this.
It turns out that what’s inside the egg is not just a product, but a life.
It turns out that the sound should have been the most familiar sound to them.
But now, listening to it, it feels so strange.
Because they have been living on an assembly line for too long.
Long enough to remember how to lay eggs, but forget why they lay eggs.