Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Countryhumans—The Necessity

The European Union—once known as the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC)—held a history not many dared to discuss. Before its formation as a beacon of unity, EU had ties to a darker past, once being entangled with military forces linked to the Third Reich. But it was never by choice.

Her grandfather was none other than the Third Reich himself, while her father was Germany and her mother, France. At that time, Germany had yet to reach the age of majority; he was still a minor, barely comprehending what it meant to be a parent. His own father, the Third Reich, never bothered to teach him. EU was conceived due to a treaty, a political construct rather than a child of love. France had little concern beyond the economic benefits and resources she could extract. Yet, despite his lack of experience, Germany tried his best to be a father, fumbling through the responsibilities he had never been taught. West and East Germany often split up, tackling different tasks so that at least one of them could watch over ESCE while the other worked.

Treaties, political parties, cities, nations, and organizations—some are born through diplomacy, while others emerge from the ashes of war.

Europe had long been the battleground of wars and alliances.

--- 

The story unfolds in Brussels, Belgium, where a certain blue-flagged, yellow-starred organization sat in contemplation, sipping tea in a grand meeting room adorned with elegant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

"But... why can't we help Ukraine?" Belgium's voice sliced through the silence.

EU carefully set down her cup, the porcelain clinking delicately against the saucer. "Political pressure. The media, scandals, public scrutiny—all of it complicates things, not just for Europe, but for us as well."

A hush fell over the room.

Belgium frowned, his frustration evident in his voice. "But what should we do? Neither Mr. Germany, Mrs. France, nor Mr. Britain wish to provide direct aid!"

EU exhaled, her gaze distant, her mind weighing the gravity of the situation. "Do not panic. Ukraine acted recklessly, but that does not justify Russia's humiliation of them. If Ukraine surrenders, they will not only lose land but also see their economy collapse. Meanwhile, the world will view Russia as attempting to resurrect the USSR. Every nation has its own beliefs—one cannot simply label a country as evil without undeniable evidence."

A heavy silence settled before EU stood up, adjusting her coat. "Enough for today... Thank you for hosting me, Belgium."

She turned to leave, but before stepping out, she paused.

"Um... Goodbye, EU! Safe travels!" Belgium called after her, offering a small wave.

EU glanced back with a nod. "Also, tell Mrs. France my regards."

---

Chapter 1

"Father, I'm back."

EU stepped inside, greeting Germany with a respectful nod. He looked up from his desk, his sharp blue eyes meeting her heterochromatic gaze—one eye yellow, the other red. Setting aside a stack of documents, a small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"I see... I assume your conversation with Belgium was meaningfully deep, was it not?" he asked, his voice carrying its usual weight of authority.

"It was, yet..." EU responded, pulling off her gloves. "But she is panicking about what’s happening in Europe."

Germany nodded in understanding, rubbing his temples. "I see. Perhaps you should rest for a bit... After all—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the door burst open.

"Sir!" A soldier rushed in, his breath ragged. A small German flag was painted on his cheek, a symbol of his allegiance. Unlike the sentient country representations, he was a mere human soldier, bound to fight for his nation.

Germany turned to him with a questioning look. "Ja? What happened?"

The soldier hesitated for a moment before speaking, urgency thick in his voice. "Your son... Mr. AfD is launching another civil war!"

Germany's jaw tightened, his exhaustion evident. Before he could respond, EU sighed and interjected.

"I'll handle my brother. He seems quite eager to resurrect Grandfather," she remarked dryly, the edge of her lips twitching slightly in what could have been either a smirk or a grimace.

Germany let out a weary sigh, massaging his temples. "Your brother... Just be careful."

EU nodded, dusting off her coat as she prepared to leave. "I know. If this gets out of hand, I will have no choice but to step beyond my boundaries and dismantle any political party teetering on the edge of leading Europe into downfall."

She turned sharply on her heel, her expression unreadable as she strode toward the exit, a guard falling into step beside her.

"He's holding another speech in Berlin," the guard informed her as they walked through the long, intricately engraved hallways.

Germany remained in his office, sinking back into his chair. He ran a hand down his face, exhausted beyond measure.

Just how many times would AfD give him headaches?

---

Chapter 1-2: The Echo (Backstory/Flashback)

She remembered the France of the 1930s—before the Third Reich seized control. Germany and France had engaged in trade, fostering a relationship that shaped her very existence. Born half-French, she had caught the Third Reich’s interest early on. By the time she turned seven, France had already fallen under his dominion.

At some point, the Third Reich suspected her of treachery. Without hesitation, he shot her in the head—three times. Germany, however, acted in secrecy, desperate to keep his daughter alive. Using experimental procedures deemed necessary, he preserved her existence, though at great cost. She was his only daughter, after all.

By 1944, as the Third Reich’s empire crumbled, Britain was the first to uncover Germany’s work. While he disapproved of the experiments, he refused to let them go to waste. EU—or ECSC—still remembered the unbearable agony of those procedures. She had lost control countless times, her wings beating furiously in pain, summoning gusts strong enough to topple trees. Yet, despite the suffering, the experiment succeeded. Britain had intervened, aiding Germany’s desperate efforts.

But it had changed her.

Her physical form bore the scars—golden tears trickled down her cheeks, and from her fingers, golden threads emerged, eerily reminiscent of the Third Reich’s crimson ones. Her right eye gleamed yellow, while her left mirrored the Third Reich’s eerie black-and-red gaze. Once, both had been blue—Germany’s eyes. But the experiment had altered not only her body but perhaps her mind as well.

Britain, as part of the post-war division, had claimed Western Germany, while the East fell under the USSR’s control. He had wished to take all of Germany, but fate had other plans. Still, despite the fractures in their past, Britain found himself caring for ECSC, Germany’s daughter. Perhaps it was the remnants of his affection for France—his former wife, now estranged. Or perhaps it was guilt.

Britain knew the truth: the Third Reich had never truly cared for Germany—not as a son, not as a nation. To him, Germany was a weapon, a tool for power. It was Britain who had stepped in, offering kindness where the Third Reich had given only cold calculation. He tried to be the father figure Germany never had.

Yet, as the years passed, things changed. By the 1950s, ECSC had grown into something more than a trading agreement or treaty—she had become an organization. And by 2020, Britain left.

He never explained why.

But she knew.

He feared her.

She had seen the way he looked at her—the wariness, the hesitation. Despite her kindness, he saw something else in her. She resembled the Third Reich too much. Not in appearance, not in actions, but in something deeper, something unspoken.

Britain remembered that... traumatic event that he had witnessed. Maybe not traumatic to others, but for him, it was.

That one time, someone dared to compare her to the Third Reich—it didn’t end well. Black tendrils—familiar and terrifying—shot from the ground, an inheritance from her lineage. Britain had recognized them instantly. He had seen them before, wielded by two individuals: Reichtriangle (the German Empire, father of the Third Reich) and the Third Reich himself.

After that incident, he distanced himself from her entirely.

The past refused to let her go. She had long since lost control once before, unleashing those dark tendrils by accident. And Britain had seen. He had always been wary, avoiding her whenever she reminded him of the past—of Reichtriangle, of the Third Reich.

Deep down, she had once sworn loyalty to the Third Reich, even above France.

Her grandfather had been everything to her—until he ended her life. And though Germany had remained by her side, the scars of that betrayal lingered.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1-2: The Echo (Backstory/Flashback)

She remembered the France of the 1930s—before the Third Reich seized control. Germany and France had engaged in trade, fostering a relationship that shaped her very existence. Born half-French, she had caught the Third Reich’s interest early on. By the time she turned seven, France had already fallen under his dominion.

At some point, the Third Reich suspected her of treachery. Without hesitation, he shot her in the head—three times. Germany, however, acted in secrecy, desperate to keep his daughter alive. Using experimental procedures deemed necessary, he preserved her existence, though at great cost. She was his only daughter, after all.

By 1944, as the Third Reich’s empire crumbled, Britain was the first to uncover Germany’s work. While he disapproved of the experiments, he refused to let them go to waste. EU—or ECSC—still remembered the unbearable agony of those procedures. She had lost control countless times, her wings beating furiously in pain, summoning gusts strong enough to topple trees. Yet, despite the suffering, the experiment succeeded. Britain had intervened, aiding Germany’s desperate efforts.

But it had changed her.

Her physical form bore the scars—golden tears trickled down her cheeks, and from her fingers, golden threads emerged, eerily reminiscent of the Third Reich’s crimson ones. Her right eye gleamed yellow, while her left mirrored the Third Reich’s eerie black-and-red gaze. Once, both had been blue—Germany’s eyes. But the experiment had altered not only her body but perhaps her mind as well.

Britain, as part of the post-war division, had claimed Western Germany, while the East fell under the USSR’s control. He had wished to take all of Germany, but fate had other plans. Still, despite the fractures in their past, Britain found himself caring for ECSC, Germany’s daughter. Perhaps it was the remnants of his affection for France—his former wife, now estranged. Or perhaps it was guilt.

Britain knew the truth: the Third Reich had never truly cared for Germany—not as a son, not as a nation. To him, Germany was a weapon, a tool for power. It was Britain who had stepped in, offering kindness where the Third Reich had given only cold calculation. He tried to be the father figure Germany never had.

Yet, as the years passed, things changed. By the 1950s, ECSC had grown into something more than a trading agreement or treaty—she had become an organization. And by 2020, Britain left.

He never explained why.

But she knew.

He feared her.

She had seen the way he looked at her—the wariness, the hesitation. Despite her kindness, he saw something else in her. She resembled the Third Reich too much. Not in appearance, not in actions, but in something deeper, something unspoken.

Britain remembered that... traumatic event that he had witnessed. Maybe not traumatic to others, but for him, it was.

That one time, someone dared to compare her to the Third Reich—it didn’t end well. Black tendrils—familiar and terrifying—shot from the ground, an inheritance from her lineage. Britain had recognized them instantly. He had seen them before, wielded by two individuals: Reichtriangle (the German Empire, father of the Third Reich) and the Third Reich himself.

After that incident, he distanced himself from her entirely.

The past refused to let her go. She had long since lost control once before, unleashing those dark tendrils by accident. And Britain had seen. He had always been wary, avoiding her whenever she reminded him of the past—of Reichtriangle, of the Third Reich.

Deep down, she had once sworn loyalty to the Third Reich, even above France.

Her grandfather had been everything to her—until he ended her life. And though Germany had remained by her side, the scars of that betrayal lingered.

**Chapter 2 (Backstory/Flashback)**

ECSE let her wings out for a moment and caressed them. They felt soft. They were black, but she could change their color to golden-yellow. However, she preferred black for now. Her wings had grown at the age of five, and they reminded her of how the Third Reich—her grandfather—taught her how to fly like him. She loved him as her grandfather. She remembered the times he pinched her cheeks and laughed with her. She even had sharp canines like his. They had shared many moments that felt like parent and child.

But everything turned upside down when he shot her. In that moment, all she could do was look at him. And then, the next thing she felt was the coldness of the ground.

When she woke up in confusion, she felt agony from even the slightest movement. Her father, Germany, had injected her with every possible substance just to keep her breathing. Even so, it still hurt... Each time she wished to create those yellow threads, it reminded her of the experiment and how she had gone through it. It was the most painful experience... even more than being shot by her own grandfather.

It hurts. It still does.

By the time Britain arrived, he somehow helped Germany finish the experiment and bring it to an end. It was successful, but it resulted in many physical and mental changes.

EU never told her history to her brother, AFD. Her brother was complicated to talk to—at some point, she couldn't even have a peaceful conversation with him without him being angry or screaming at her.

Britain, France, America, Germany, Poland, Belgium… maybe the others knew, but AFD was born in the 2000s. He wouldn’t know much about her history, and she wished to keep it that way. It wasn’t like she wanted to be bothered by AFD telling her she was worthless or stupid for betraying the Third Reich, even though she never had. AFD was so caught up in idolizing his grandfather, the Third Reich, that he didn’t know the horrors that the Third Reich had made and created.

Chapter 2 (The Current Time)

EU stood in front of the stadium where AFD declared his rebellion against Germany, their father.

"I'm sorry to ruin your parade, but you're under arrest," EU declared.

"You act as if you're my older sibling, yet you are only Father's partner in economic development and growth! This political party of mine will overthrow your peaceful demands! Peace cannot be achieved without violence!" AFD shouted, his voice echoing through the microphone, carrying over the murmuring crowd.

And just like that, AFD was arrested and locked in jail—for another month, or maybe a year. Even if he stopped… or not. This had happened multiple times already.

The crowd murmured. These people had their own opinions, and nothing would change them. Changing people's opinions was like changing a fool’s way of thinking. And changing a fool meant being a fool yourself because you cared what the fools said. Yet to EU, no one was a fool—unless they thought themselves smart. The truly smart thought themselves fools, while the fools believed they were smart enough.

EU walked back to headquarters, finishing documents and meetings before heading home.

---

At home:

A knock could be heard outside the office.

"Komm rein…" Germany answered.

"Ich bin zurück, Vater," EU muttered.

"...How did it go?" Germany asked.

"Went well and fast. sigh I don't know when he'll stop idolizing Grandfather at this point…" EU sighed, laying on the sofa in exhaustion.

"Well… This means more paperwork and documents today. You should discipline yourself more—you’re procrastinating for a total of eight hours within a day," Germany reminded her.

"I know, Father… It's just… Every day, it feels tiring… I'm feeling down all the time, as if I feel so empty." EU hugged a pillow on the sofa.

"...I suppose I should have already expected this. You can't sleep here… You have to sleep in your room. You always sleep in your office at headquarters or here in my office. It’s a bad habit—" Germany looked a little worried.

"If you remember to take your pills and sleep on time too, Father… You do it first, then I'll stop worrying about you so much," EU said before falling asleep on the sofa.

Germany sighed. His daughter was right. He should be taking care of his health. He had been ignoring it so much that his daughter always had to remind him. It was embarrassing, really—he had made his daughter worry about him too much.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Germany eventually let his daughter sleep on the couch.

He remembered the past—most of it. EU could split herself into two people: one male and one female. However, even when merged, she remained female. Her gender was not determined by her ability to split. Because of this, during meetings, people often mistook her gender. EU-ECSE didn’t mind since she had another half.

To be precise, EU had different names. One was European Union, which was his daughter’s name, while her clone was Europe Union, without the "an" at the end.

Sometimes, if AFD was home, he wouldn’t constantly rant about EU being there. If AFD knew she was his sister, he would freak out and become more annoying, causing problems just like in the past. Or rather, to be exact, Third Reich had blamed her for treachery, even though she never committed such an act. Germany knew how much AFD idolized Third Reich...

Germany exhaled heavily. The documents were finally finished.

He hadn’t realized before, but his daughter had taken some of the documents so he could finish faster than usual. No wonder she procrastinated so much after returning from her own headquarters. By the time she got home, she was always either tired or sleepy. She also became annoyed whenever he had a large stack of files and documents to complete. Not to mention, her own office at the headquarters was incredibly messy. However, at least she managed to organize her papers, documents, letters, ballpens, and other essential work supplies.

Meanwhile, somewhere else:

"...Escaping this place is getting harder and harder. Thank you for bailing me out." AFD looked at his other siblings—the other political parties, to be exact. However, they seemed more disappointed than anything else.

"We told you this was the last time we were going to bail you out," they all said at the same time—Central-left, Central-right, Far-right, Left-wing, Far-left, and Right-wing.

"Yes... Sorry. This will be the last time..." AFD apologized. He wasn’t sincere, but he was at least thankful that his siblings had helped him, even if none of them had a good relationship in politics.

After that, his siblings all left.

AFD wandered elsewhere, deep in thought. He was suspicious of EU. Why on earth would his father side with that organization over his own son? It wasn’t like EU was his sister... He didn’t have a sister. His father had never mentioned a sibling. But once—just once—he remembered something. Belgium had asked him how his sister was doing. He hadn’t known what Belgium meant at the time, but now it seemed like a signal.

It was time to investigate what was really going on and why his father trusted EU so much.

The suspicion, the investigation, and the search for truth began.

---Chapter 3.5

AFD somehow found or... to say the least, stumbled upon an underground old laboratory.

He didn't forget to go back to his cabin and grab the gas mask, gloves, and oxygen tank. The laboratory may not be like a cave, but there might be dead or foul air. He wore his gear and began his exploration. It was rumored to be haunted, connected to the Third Reich, Germany, and his deceased uncle, East Germany. There were also rumors—true or not—that Germany had a daughter, but she supposedly died after being shot in the head by the Third Reich, who had grown paranoid about her betraying him. After all, once he invaded France, his granddaughter—or whatever she was—became a potential threat.

However, AFD didn't even know her name. No one seemed to remember it much. All he knew was that she was half-French and half-German. If the rumors were true... he wouldn't lie—he did enjoy gossip, though he only listened rather than contributed.

He didn’t fully understand the supposed sister, nor the idea of Germany having a daughter. And yet, a lingering curiosity pushed him forward.

His only objective was to uncover the truth. If he did have a sister, that would raise many questions. What if EU was just a replacement for his unnamed sister? What if EU was someone that reminded their father of her?

As he walked through the dimly lit hallways of the abandoned laboratory, the air was eerily still and silent. Darkness loomed over every corner. He steeled himself—why should he be scared?

Chapter Text

Chapter 4(with a little backstory–or Flashback of the past Chapter 3-4)

AFD walked cautiously through the dimly lit hallways of the underground laboratory. A shiver ran down his spine as an unsettling silence settled around him. He lit the torch he had brought, but the flame flickered weakly before extinguishing itself after only two steps forward. His heart pounded.

It was a clear sign—there was foul air.

Immediately, he reached for his gas mask, securing it over his face and attaching it to the small oxygen tank he had brought. He had come prepared, but even then, the eerie stillness of the place gnawed at him. The air was thick with the scent of decay, chemicals, and something else—something ancient and forgotten.

He wasn’t just here to confirm whether he had an(older)sister. There was something else, something that had been pulling him toward this place. A dream—a vivid, almost lucid dream—had led him here. In that dream, he had seen a French flag, but not just any ordinary one. There was a cross in the center of its face. When he had researched it later, he found out it belonged to Vichy France, or the French State. It was a remnant of the Third Reich’s era, connected to his grandfather. But why would he dream of Vichy France? He had always thought the French despised Germans.

Or maybe… maybe there was something more to it.

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. Now was not the time to overthink. He was here to find evidence, not get lost in speculation.

Carefully, he moved forward, scanning the surroundings for anything of significance. He started rummaging through old, dusty filing cabinets, stuffing whatever documents he deemed important into the large bag he had brought. His fingers brushed against glass vials filled with murky, unknown substances. He frowned. If these were still intact after all these years, then they were either highly dangerous or incredibly well-preserved.

He had brought containers for this exact reason. With careful precision, he placed the vials inside, making sure they were secured. Some of the substances were already leaking, their warning labels barely legible due to age and corrosion. Still, he could make out the words written in German:

Gefahr! (Danger!)
Nicht anfassen! (Do not touch!)
Zerbrechlich, gehen Sie vorsichtig damit um. (Fragile, handle with care.)

Seeing those words sent a chill down his spine. He knew better than to question their meaning—he had no intention of touching whatever was inside these vials. He made sure to double-check each container for cracks or damage before sealing them tightly.

His oxygen tank beeped, signaling that it was running low. Panic flickered in his chest. He had only filled it to 30% before coming here, thinking he wouldn’t need much. Now, he was regretting that decision. He had underestimated the size of this underground labyrinth.

Time to leave. Fast.

Securing the last of the files and substances, he moved swiftly through the corridors, retracing his steps. Each shadow seemed to shift, the silence growing heavier. He could almost hear whispers—faint and distant—but he refused to let his imagination get the best of him.

As soon as he reached the entrance, he took a deep, relieved breath, stepping into the fresh air. He pulled off his gas mask and wiped the sweat from his forehead. That had been far more intense than he had anticipated.

Without wasting time, he made his way back to his cabin, his bag filled with evidence that could change everything he knew. He placed it down gently, making sure nothing inside was disturbed before heading straight to the bathroom.

He needed a shower. A long one.

The weight of what he had discovered was overwhelming, but he was too exhausted to process it now. Once he was clean, he collapsed onto his bed, his mind racing despite his exhaustion.

If what he found in that lab was real… then everything he thought he knew about his family, about EU, about himself—was about to change.

The truth was waiting for him.

And soon, he would find it.

Chapter 4 (backstory/Flashback.)

After he got bailed out of jail, Switzerland greeted him and casually asked, "How is your (older)sister doing?"

AFD furrowed his brows, caught off guard by the question. "What?" he asked, his confusion evident.

Switzerland hesitated for a moment before forcing a chuckle. "Oh... just a mistake. Sorry, I was thinking of someone else... hehe."

But AFD didn't miss the flicker of uncertainty in Switzerland's expression. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him about an(older) sister he didn’t even know existed. He had dismissed it before, but now… now, it was becoming too frequent to ignore.

He wanted to ask his father, Germany, directly. But knowing him, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

Shoving the thought aside for now, he focused on his task. He retrieved the empty oxygen tank he had hidden away from Germany and that insufferable EU organization. He had no interest in being monitored or questioned about what he was doing.

AFD filled the tank with oxygen but only to 30%—just enough for what he had planned. He didn’t think he’d need more. Besides, the security system in the area he was heading to was tight, and he had managed to hack the cameras. However, he only had a 30-minute window before the connection was restored.

After securing his gear, he double-checked his equipment. Gloves? Check. Extra mask? Check. Necessary supplies? Check.

This wasn’t his first time seeing that underground laboratory. He had stumbled upon it before when he was five or six. At the time, he thought it was just his imagination—shadows flickering in the dimly lit halls, figures moving in the darkness. The eerie sensation of being watched had haunted him ever since. He never dared to return. Until now.

Just as he was about to leave, he spotted Belgium wandering the street nearby, clearly lost in thought—probably daydreaming about Luxembourg showering her with chocolates again. AFD quickly hid the oxygen tank in his bag, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

But Belgium noticed him. With a bright smile, she approached.

"Oh! AFD! Have you seen your (older) sister? How is she?" she asked cheerfully.

That was the final straw. His suspicion had turned into certainty.

"What?" he asked again, his voice laced with disbelief.

Belgium’s eyes widened as if realizing her mistake. "Ah-! W-wrong question! I meant—ah—how’s your father? I hope you’re not giving him headaches! Haha! A-and ah—bye!"

Before he could press her further, Belgium spun on her heel and bolted down the street.

AFD stood there, watching her retreating figure. Almost everyone seemed to know something he didn’t. If he truly had an(older)sister, why was it kept from him? He had a right to know.

Later, inside the abandoned underground laboratory, he navigated through the pitch-black halls. As he took two cautious steps forward, the flame of his torch flickered and immediately went out.

A warning.

Without hesitation, he secured his gas mask and connected it to his oxygen tank. The air was likely filled with toxic remnants of old experiments, and he wasn’t about to risk breathing it in.

He rummaged through dusty filing cabinets, uncovering yellowed photographs—aged with time. He stuffed every document he could find into his bag. Then, his eyes landed on a shelf filled with vials of unknown substances. He carefully placed them inside the specialized container he had brought, ensuring none were cracked or leaking.

As he worked, an eerie chill crept up his spine. Every turn he took in the labyrinthine hallways made him feel as if something—or someone—was watching him.

Just as he secured the last container, he noticed the gauge on his oxygen tank dipping below 3%.

No time left.

With his bag full, he sprinted toward the exit. The stale, suffocating air pressed against his back like unseen hands trying to pull him in. He didn't look back.

Finally bursting outside, he ripped off his gas mask and gulped in fresh air, panting heavily. His hands trembled, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Something was wrong with that place. The darkness, the whispers of the past lingering in the air—it wasn’t just an abandoned lab. It was something more.

But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He needed to get back to his cabin, clean up, and prepare.

After taking a long, much-needed shower, he collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. His mind, however, refused to rest.

Those documents…

They held the key to the truth—about Third Reich, about Vichy France, about his father… and about the sister he had never known.

And soon, he would demand answers. Especially from His father Germany and that EU organization that has been a partner to his father. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

AFD woke up, feeling groggy after sleeping longer than usual. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before getting out of bed and straightening the sheets. His mind was still clouded from exhaustion, but the moment he glanced at the bag on his desk, everything came rushing back—his discovery, the documents, the eerie feeling that something was terribly off.

He walked over, unzipping the bag with cautious hands. First, he pulled out his gloves, slipping on three layers as extra protection. He had no idea what kind of chemicals or toxins could have contaminated the papers, and he wasn’t about to take any risks.

Next, he sorted through the files, carefully placing them into two piles—one for documents that were still legible and another for those too damaged to read. The second pile frustrated him. What if the answers he needed were in those ruined pages? He shook off the irritation and focused on what he could read first.

Reaching into the bag again, he grabbed a disposable mask and layered three on top of each other. Even if he had already escaped the toxic air of the underground lab, he wasn’t taking chances.

After setting the documents aside, he retrieved a small container from the bag. Inside were sealed vials filled with unknown substances. He placed it on the desk, far from the papers, making a mental note to examine them later.

Finally, he took out the photographs. The edges were warped, and the images were blurry—likely damaged by the spilled liquid in the lab. He held them under the dim lamp, squinting as he tried to make out the figures.

One of the photos caught his attention.

It showed Third Reich, Germany, and—someone else.

A figure stood among them with their face completely covered by a German paper flag. AFD’s stomach twisted at the sight. That symbol—he had seen it before. Countries with paper flags covering their faces were either colonies, erased from history, or figures shrouded in secrecy. His great-grandfather, the German Empire—also known as Reichtriangle—had always worn a paper flag to hide his face.

It was said that Reichtriangle's expression was so terrifying that no one dared to describe it in history books. The few accounts that existed only called it creepy, menacing, and inhuman.

AFD shuddered. If this unknown country in the photo was wearing a paper flag, then that meant—

His mind flashed back to a memory from when he was eight years old.

---

"Hey, how's your sister doing?"

Italy had asked him casually one day.

AFD had blinked, confused.
"Huh? You mean CDU (Christian Democratic Union of Germany) and CSU (Christian Social Union in Bavaria)?"

He never understood all the political gender-changing nonsense. He didn’t care.

But then—Italy had fallen silent.

His expression shifted.

As if he had said something he wasn’t supposed to.

AFD hadn't thought much of it back then. But now—

Now, he was starting to realize that everyone else seemed to know something about his so-called sister.

Everyone except him.

And he was going to find out the truth.

Chapter 5.5

When AFD was eight, the questions had seemed harmless.

"How's your older sister?"
"Is your older sister okay?"

At first, he thought they were just referring to CDU or CSU—his political siblings. But when he asked them, they were just as confused as he was.

As he grew older, the whispers didn’t stop. The casual inquiries, the offhand remarks—it was as if everyone else knew something he didn’t. But when he tried to ask for clarification, the responses were always the same.

An awkward silence. A nervous laugh. A quick change of topic.

Or worse—people simply walked away, refusing to answer.

Now, as he sat alone in his cabin, AFD realized just how long he had ignored the signs. He had stayed here for days, isolated, surrounded only by the secrets locked away in his cabinet. Secrets he wasn’t supposed to know.

With careful hands, he gathered the documents and locked them away in a cabinet secured with two layers of protection. The ones he had already read were placed in the top drawer, but the unreadable ones—those might be the most important of all. Whatever was in them, someone had tried to erase.

AFD took a deep breath and pulled on another mask, his third layer now. He had to be cautious. There were still the substances to examine.

He turned to the small sample containers, each one holding a liquid of unnatural color and consistency. His eyes scanned the labels, all written in German. Some of the words were unfamiliar, yet they carried a weight that made his stomach twist.

Schattensturm ("Shadow Storm") – A mixture of red, purple, blue, green, and yellow, each color separate but hypnotic. It gave off an unsettling aura, like something lurking just beneath the surface.

Schreckensstern ("Star of Terror") – A deep starry-blue cyan, swirling like the night sky, beautiful yet ominous.

Stahlklaue ("Steel Claw") – The liquid looked metallic, like molten iron fused with something sharper, deadlier.

Schweigen ("Silence") – A nearly empty vial, with only 20% of the dark-purple liquid remaining. The name itself was eerie. Silence… before a storm? Or silence after something was erased?

Donnersturm ("Thunderstorm") – The most bizarre one. Tiny, flickering lightning bolts danced inside the container. How did they even trap something like this in a liquid form?

Blitzschlag ("Lightning Strike") – A cyan-purple-blue mixture, crackling faintly, as if alive.

Feuersturm ("Firestorm") – A blazing, lava-like substance, shifting and churning like it was still burning.

Weltenbrand ("World Fire") – Pure crimson red, almost too red, as if representing total destruction.

Zorn ("Wrath") – A deep crimson-black, darker than anything he had ever seen. It looked thick, like congealed rage itself.

Nachtschatten ("Nightshade") – Green, purple, and yellow—distinct, unmixed. A warning of poison, lurking danger.

AFD’s grip on the table tightened.

These substances weren’t normal. They shouldn’t exist.

And yet, here they were, locked away in an underground lab that had been abandoned for who knows how long.

His heart pounded as another realization hit him. The labels mentioned they were unusable for living entities.

That meant they had been tested—on something.

Or worse… someone.

His stomach twisted. He had seen enough horror movies with his siblings to know where this kind of thing led. Experimentation. Transformation. Or something far worse.

And if the experiments had failed…

He didn’t want to imagine what could still be out there.

For the first time since entering that lab, he felt true paranoia creeping in.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Meanwhile:

At some point, EU found herself poring over her family history. Most of the information was already familiar to her, yet as she flipped through the pages, one particular detail caught her eye.

Wirtsfluch (German for "host's curse")

> A term suggesting the parasite is a burden or affliction.

This parasite had been passed down through generations of the German bloodline. However, not every descendant inherited it. She read on, curiosity growing as she traced its origins.

---

Holy Roman Empire

Her great-great-great-grandfather. He was rumored to be the first to bear the parasite. His wings were golden yellow, yet at times, they would darken to black whenever he unleashed the parasite’s power. The records described it as a living entity, growing out of his back whenever he summoned it.

Teutonic Order

A rare deviation in the lineage—Teutonic Order was a woman, according to historical records. Unlike her husband, the Holy Roman Empire, she did not carry the parasite. She was also EU’s great-great-great-grandmother.

Prussia

Her great-great-grandfather. He was known for his eye patch, and records confirmed that the parasite manifested not only from his back but also from his missing eye. Despite being the older brother of the Austrian Empire, he never acknowledged the relation.

Austrian Empire

Her great-great-grandfather—or perhaps, her granduncle. Unlike his brother, Prussia, he was never recorded to have the parasite. However, history remembers him as the father of Austria-Hungary.

Kingdom of Hungary

More commonly known as the Hungarian Empire, she was the wife of the Austrian Empire. EU pondered over her relation to her—perhaps a great-great-grand aunt? The records stated that she, too, did not carry the parasite.

German Empire (Reichtriangle)

Her great-grandfather. He was a menacing figure in history, feared long before World War II. Unlike his predecessors, who could summon the parasite from their bodies, he could call forth black tendrils from the very ground itself.

Austria-Hungary

Her great-grandmother. She was known for wearing two eye patches, leading some to believe she was blind, though she could still see through them. Records confirmed she had the parasite, but its strength paled in comparison to the others.

The Third Reich

Her grandfather. The most terrifying of them all, surpassing even his father’s notoriety. He lived for less than a century, yet his legacy endured in infamy. Like the German Empire, he could only summon the parasite from the ground, unable to manifest it from his own body.

---

Curiously, neither East nor West Germany showed any signs of the parasite.

West Germany, or simply Germany, was now the leader of the European Union.

There were even theories that his daughter was the European Union herself.

Historically, some members of the family were known for their calm and composed nature: Holy Roman Empire, Teutonic Order, Austrian Empire, Kingdom of Hungary, Austria-Hungary, East Germany, and her father, Germany.

The rest… were far more aggressive.

EU, though generally calm, knew she wasn’t exempt. Like HRE, she had a limit—a threshold where patience dissolved into fury.

As she continued reading, her unease grew.

She was half-French.

Her German ancestors would undoubtedly despise her for it.

Yet, what could she do? It wasn’t her choice—she was simply born this way.

With a heavy sigh, EU closed the family history book.

Her mind drifted to AFD. She had heard rumors that his political allies—his so-called siblings—had bailed him out. Where was he now? She had been waiting. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days...

She had to tell him the truth.

But she wasn’t ready.

Still, one revelation gnawed at her.

Most of the women in her family tree did not have the parasite. And yet, she did. The parasite had awakened in her even before her father’s experiments. It was the only thing that had kept her alive after those excruciating gunshot wounds.

Now, she could summon the parasite’s black tendrils both from the ground and her back—just like Reichtriangle or the precise German Empire.

Was it fate?

Or was it something far more sinister?

Chapter 6

Flashback

"ESCE, dear... everything will be okay... just bear with it..."

He tried to calm her from the other side of the room. He wished he could hold her, but he couldn't.

ESCE clutched her head in pain. It would be another minute—or maybe an hour—until they used another substance. Her screams echoed, even through the comms. She was restrained on a bed, confined.

Thankfully, the bunker was soundproof.

"We have to finish this now," Britain said, sipping his tea.

"I... I'll do it..." Germany hesitated, then immediately grabbed the syringe, pressing the air out of it.

Britain watched, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

On the other side of the comms, the windows were transparent from the observers' perspective, yet ESCE could only hear them—unable to see who was watching her.

Her screams abruptly stopped as (West) Germany injected the syringe into her arm.

A minute later, he unfastened the chains that had restrained her, preventing her from summoning a gust of wind or resisting. He was grateful—at least she hadn't attacked him while her hands were unchained.

Slowly, he lifted her into his arms. It was over.

Yet, golden tears streaked her face—a byproduct of the process. It took minutes for the leaking to stop. Once it did, he continued his way out of the bunker.

---

The Meeting in Berlin

By the time the meeting began, ESCE was awake—just in time to witness them dividing her father. She wanted to scream, but exhaustion consumed her.

France didn’t care. Her so-called mother despised her for being German. But ESCE hadn't chosen this—she couldn't control the circumstances of her birth.

She remained silent.

USSR, watching from across the room, took note of her presence. The granddaughter of the Third Reich—rumored to be dead or vanished—was sitting right there.

Yet, she was quiet. The rumors described her as lively. Perhaps, after being shot by the Third Reich, she had never been the same. He didn't know where she had been wounded, but one thing was clear—this child had no desire to speak. So, he let her be.

Time passed, and she often saw (West) Germany buried under paperwork, working overtime. Everyone seemed to bully him now. She recalled her grandfather’s words: Everyone hates the Germans... in Europe.

Maybe he hadn’t been lying.

Maybe she was a mistake—just as he had told her before he pulled the trigger.

Britain had cared for her at times, but there were moments he avoided her. Was it because of how she acted? Was she too much like her grandfather?

Where did she truly belong?

Was she even German? Or was she French?

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 (Flashback)

ESCE walked through the streets. Berlin was now occupied by the Red Russians—or more precisely, the USSR. She was in Bonn, the current capital of West Germany, her father’s current capital for now.

She had wanted to protest earlier, but she couldn't. The adults wouldn’t understand, nor would they listen. They hated her, especially because she had once been part of her grandfather’s military.

She wandered aimlessly, watching as the East Germany border was sealed. They were building a wall—to divide East from West.

She watched quietly... until she bumped into someone.

"Look out, brat!"

A Norwegian. It was easy to tell he was human, yet a small Norway flag was painted on his cheek.

"... Sorry..."

A sharp slap landed across her face. She had already anticipated it. She knew how much people despised Germans.

She wanted to cry. He yanked her hair, the pain searing through her scalp. She wanted to scream for help, but she knew no one would come to her aid. It was better to keep it inside than to make a scene. She wouldn’t humiliate herself.

Then, an impact—something hard against the back of her head. Yet, even as her vision blurred, her mind raced. If she fought back, the countries might take it the wrong way. They might see her as a threat, as if she were rebelling. She didn't want them to think she would become the next embodiment of her grandfather’s rule. She didn't want to be compared to that man—the man she had once loved but who had thrown her into the void of nothingness.

She stayed silent.

The experiment still hurt, and now, so did this.

She didn’t notice when someone lifted her up. She didn't realize she had lost consciousness.

---

Meanwhile

On the telephone:

"...Germany, your daughter passed out. Don't worry, she's in the hospital now. She just... um... the experiment is still taking effect. Don't worry, I'll take care of her for you."

Britain spoke carefully, his British accent precise. If he mispronounced something, Germany might misunderstand.

He didn't inform West Germany that she had been thrown into the wall by a Norwegian citizen.

---

When ESCE woke up, doctors and nurses were gathered around, trying to get a response from her—but to no avail.

Meanwhile, outside the room, the Norwegian who had hurt her stood in silence. He hadn’t been punished, but Norway himself was troubled. He didn't like seeing children hurt. Many Lebensborn children were born in his country—twenty suicides per month. Even if he despised Germans, he remained silent. He wanted to apologize for his citizen’s actions.

The medical staff grew more frantic. The child wasn’t responding at all. Panic filled the air.

Vegetative State: A state of wakefulness without awareness. The person may open their eyes and have sleep-wake cycles but does not respond to stimuli or show signs of consciousness. This usually indicates severe damage to the cerebrum (the largest part of the brain).

Britain was informed. He remained quiet. He hadn't expected her to come.

France barged into the hospital.

She immediately demanded to see ESCE, pushing past anyone in her way. Inside the room, the doctors were still trying to get a reaction out of the girl. France watched as they poked and called her name, but she remained unresponsive.

France stared into ESCE’s empty eyes.

She had heard rumors that the girl had died, yet when she saw her during the meeting—the one where they split Germany into East and West—she had noticed something. Back then, ESCE had been eerily quiet. Too quiet. She remembered a different child—one who was once lively, cunning, and talkative. A girl who had reminded her of the Third Reich.

Except the Third Reich was never lively. He was cunning, manipulative. He spoke when necessary, but never without purpose.

France’s gaze hardened. She hated this girl.

Yet, for a brief moment, that hatred faltered.

Without another word, France turned and fled to the nearest restroom, sobbing.

After all, no matter how much she tried to deny it—ESCE was still her daughter.

Chapter 7.5

Britain followed France into the restroom and attempted to comfort her.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine," Britain reassured her, though he knew it was a lie. The child had technically died, only to be revived through Germany’s experiments. And now this... He knew the side effects of a vegetative state—confusion, memory loss (amnesia), disorientation, and worst of all, seizures and other neurological complications.

But France wasn’t fooled. She had already been informed about the child's condition earlier.

They stepped out of the restroom together. It was a shared space for both men and women, with separate corridors and sinks. France had been standing by the sink, far from the main part of the restroom.

Then, a scream rang out.

Without hesitation, they rushed back to the child's hospital room.

"No! Take that away!" ESCE’s panicked voice filled the room.

A nurse, who had been organizing syringes, froze in shock. She hadn’t expected such a reaction. She had been several meters away from the child, merely discarding used needles and replacing them, but the mere sight of the syringes had sent ESCE into a full-blown panic.

Doctors quickly entered the room, trying to calm her down. Some of the younger medical staff—recent graduates—stood still, unsure of what to do in such a distressing situation.

France was speechless. Memories of the Third Reich’s brutal experiments surfaced in her mind. During the time ESCE was rumored to be dead, had she fallen victim to the Third Reich’s inhumane tests? If so, then...

Everything went silent. A horrifying thought gripped France’s mind: What if ESCE was...

She couldn’t finish the thought. She didn’t want to.

The doctors and nurses worked quickly to calm the child. Her reaction had been so sudden that her body had frozen for a moment. They positioned her carefully, speaking in gentle and familiar tones to soothe her.

The nurse who had been handling the syringes was asked to leave, and the staff reminded her to avoid such actions near patients in the future, purely as a safety precaution.

But getting close to ESCE remained a challenge. Her wings flared out, swiping at anyone who got too near, and her sharp canines gleamed in warning.

France couldn’t help but notice—the way she bared her teeth, the way her instincts kicked in—it was eerily reminiscent of the Third Reich.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Yet, not long after, she was fine. Or at least, that was what the doctors said.

They told the couple—no, the divorced couple—that they would be able to visit the child soon enough. But before they left, a doctor hesitated, glancing between them.

"Are you the parents?" he finally asked.

France straightened. "I'm her mother. Her father is West Germany, but he won’t be able to come."

The doctor smiled, nodding knowingly. "Ah, I see... Have a nice day then."

He waved them off, and soon enough, the information reached West Germany. He stayed silent.

Many Germans were facing criticism and outright abuse from other countries and civilians. It wasn’t surprising, but it still stung. His people suffered, and his daughter suffered too. The sins of the father—his father—fell upon them both. He wished he could visit her. He wanted to visit her. But time was cruel, and duty was harsher still.

---

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. They continued to visit, one after another. France more frequently than Britain, though Britain still made appearances. The visiting hours weren’t long, and Germany—West Germany, to be precise—never seemed to find the time. Perhaps he was too ashamed, or perhaps he was too afraid.

He had no words to give his daughter.

She had been naive. She had been young. She had been a child swept up in something greater than herself. And yet, she bore the burden of Third Reich’s legacy, just as he did. The world blamed them both.

One evening, France arrived as usual. She stepped into the hospital room, her presence warm yet uncertain.

"How are you, dear?" she asked gently. The doctors had informed her that ESCE was recovering well. The aftermath of the vegetative state left her with amnesia. France hoped—prayed—that she would remember something.

"Normal," ESCE responded flatly.

France placed a small paper bag on the bedside table. "I brought you a croissant and a baguette."

A voice from the other side of the room piped up. "Aw! No cake!?"

France turned to see a child pouting at their own parent.

ESCE, however, remained silent.

"I'll let you eat cake—" the other child’s parent started, but ESCE wasn’t listening. She simply stared at the bread, her fingers ghosting over the flaky layers of the croissant before finally taking a bite.

France sighed softly. "I’ll visit you with your father soon. But... he’s busy today. I hope you understand."

ESCE nodded.

France left soon after. Each time she visited, she brought bread. Occasionally, she would bring cake. The first time ESCE received a cake, she simply stared at it for a long moment before asking:

"Does it have... potatoes?"

France blinked, caught off guard. Was she allergic? Or did she want potatoes in it? She didn’t know. Their relationship had never been particularly close.

"...No, it doesn’t have potatoes," France finally answered, after nearly an hour of hesitation.

At that, ESCE immediately took a bite.

She was recovering. Too fast, almost unnaturally so.

The doctors noticed. Some whispered about how strange it was. Others avoided looking at her directly. They said nothing, but they all thought the same thing—

Something wasn’t right.

---

She barely paid attention to the nurses and doctors around her. They spoke softly, ran their tests, and treated her condition as best they could. But she wasn’t concerned with them.

No, her focus was on him.

The doctor. The one with the kind smile. The one who spoke so softly. The one whose tone never wavered, whose posture never faltered. The one who felt... off.

He didn’t act unusual. He didn’t do anything suspicious. But she knew. She knew.

It was the same tactic her grandfather, the Third Reich, had used. The same subtle, gentle persuasion. The manipulation hidden beneath kindness. The patience of a predator waiting for the right moment.

He wanted something.

ESCE didn’t trust him. She wouldn’t let her guard down. Not even for a second.

Not even if she couldn’t fight back.

Then, one night, as she lay in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, she heard it.

A voice.

A whisper.

And she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Somewhere Else:

"America, where are you going?" asked NATO, his voice filled with concern. He stood near America, arms crossed, watching as the young nation prepared to leave.

America sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to visit my mom... Obviously. And NATO, no need to worry. It's almost time, and you're about to become an official organization."

"That's not the problem," NATO insisted. "It's just... You never pay attention to your forty-eight children."

America followed NATO’s gaze to the forty-eight stars floating above his head. Each one symbolized a state under his care, a constant reminder of his growing responsibility. He knew NATO was right, but this was something he had to do.

"Don't worry... I'll be back, I promise. And tell Ohio... I won't be back for him."

NATO winced at that. Ohio was a troublemaker, yes, but he was still just a child. No doubt, he was crying in his room right now, feeling abandoned.

With that, America boarded his private jet and took off toward France. He had heard rumors—rumors that ESCE was still alive. He wanted to see for himself.

As he flew, memories surfaced. He remembered when he first met ESCE as a four-year-old. Her resemblance to Weimar Republic was uncanny. Weimar had been kind, gentle, despite the world turning against him. America had considered him a friend. He had watched helplessly as Weimar crumbled, unable to withstand the weight of the economic burdens forced upon him.

His own mother, France, and that old hag Britain had played their part in it, too. If they hadn’t raised the reparations to such an extreme—42,000,000,000 marks for a single loaf of bread—maybe Weimar wouldn’t have fallen. Maybe Third Reich wouldn’t have had to kill him.

Maybe things would have been different.

America shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The past was the past. Now, he had to focus on ESCE. France had sent him a letter, detailing everything—how a Norwegian citizen had thrown ESCE against a wall, how she had slipped into a vegetative state, and how, miraculously, she was recovering at an unnatural speed.

When he had last been in Europe, months ago, he had searched for her, but she had been nowhere to be found. Now he knew why. He couldn't explain it, but something about this whole situation unsettled him.

The moment his plane landed, he wasted no time. The hospital staff nearly jumped out of their skin when he stormed through the halls, his usual carefree demeanor absent. It wasn’t often that America took things seriously. That alone was enough to put them on edge.

Finally, he arrived at her hospital room. France was already inside, sitting beside ESCE’s bed, her expression unreadable. America hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, his voice breaking the silence.

"Yo, kid. Long time no see."

ESCE turned her head slightly, locking eyes with him. For a brief moment, America felt his breath hitch. That look—it was the same look Weimar had given him before he died. Tired. Empty. Resigned.

America clenched his fists.

They always said like father, like son. Or Like Father like daughter..But ECSC/ECSE and Third third in this state is Like Grandfather like Granddaughter But in this case, it was more like like granduncle, like grandniece.

Weimar had been her granduncle, after all. If Third Reich was her grandfather, then Weimar had been his older brother. The connection was clear now. America had known ESCE was related to him, but seeing her like this made the resemblance even more striking.

Her features, though, bore traces of Third Reich—especially her sharp canines. That alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine. But then there were her eyes... France had told him in the letter that her eye color had changed. One golden-yellow, the other a crimson red, like Third Reich’s. Something had happened to her. Something unnatural.

"You gonna say anything, or are we just gonna sit here all day?" America tried to keep his tone light.

ESCE stared at him for a few seconds longer before finally speaking. "You're loud."

America blinked, then let out a short laugh. "Still got some sass in you, huh? That’s good. Means you’re not completely gone."

France sighed in relief, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was a small sign, but it meant ESCE was still there—somewhere beneath the surface.

America pulled up a chair, sitting beside her bed. "You know, kid... you remind me of someone I used to know. Weimar Republic. He was a lot like you. Tired, but still trying to hold on."

ESCE’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes flickered. Recognition? Interest? America couldn’t tell.

"I’ll tell you about him sometime," he said, leaning back. "He was a good guy. A real good guy."

He left it at that, letting the silence settle. He knew he’d be coming back to visit. There was still so much he needed to say. So much he needed to ask.

Because one thing was for sure—something about ESCE wasn’t right.

And he needed to find out why.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

(A day ago before America visited)

"You know… we’ve been like this for months."
The whisper’s voice curled through her thoughts like a snake.

"I know…" ESCE responded inwardly, her expression unreadable as she stared at the ceiling of her dimly lit hospital room.

"You were right when you said that Mother only cares for… us. If we were long gone, she would be like any other neglectful parent, except she isn't abusive—just distant, inattentive. But still, I’m shocked! Being thrown into a wall was actually part of your plan? Wow. We can control people with these golden strings, and yet you went and did that. Maybe some individuals might see them, but you took the risk to a whole new level!" the whisper exclaimed with amusement.

ESCE’s lips barely moved, but her thoughts crackled with a dry chuckle.
"See...? We’re smart enough. And these acting skills of mine are definitely being put to the test. No one suspects a thing! Not even Britain. He never learns… Like any other Germans, we are like them…"

Her mind echoed with laughter—her own, but also the whisper’s.

"I used to think you were so innocent and naïve. But you fooled Third Reich! Actually… wait. Was getting shot part of your plan too?" the whisper asked, its tone both impressed and skeptical.

"No… I don’t know how he found out. Maybe my tone gave me away. Ugh… If I could fool him even after his death, but I wasn’t able to…" ESCE frowned, fingers twitching against the sheets. "What a failure."

"Yet we fooled almost everyone! Just like him!!! Haha—" The whisper giggled, its voice shimmering with mirth.

ESCE’s smirk returned. "It’s too early to rejoice. We still have a plan to pledge, remember? I’m acting as if I don’t remember…"

"Who would’ve known you were so cunning?"

"Yet my plan is only to act… This whole life feels like a performance. A contract we signed just to keep our father living… We promised not to break that contract, remember?"

"Yes… yet we are both too kind and too evil at the same time. Didn’t you once say you hate lying? But at least you never covered a lie with another lie. You just stayed silent. It seems you’re still clinging to your morality, huh?" the whisper sighed in what sounded almost like happiness.

ESCE shifted her gaze upward, her right eye glowing golden-yellow, while her left eye gleamed crimson red—her true eye color, inherited from her grandfather. Yet, she had learned to manipulate its contrast, dulling it to blue to maintain her illusion.

She raised a hand, watching the golden strings that wove around her fingers like threads of fate, delicate yet unbreakable. Only she could see them. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Everything is going according to plan…"

A quiet chuckle echoed in her mind.
"Just like your grandfather. The world is always playing checkers, but you… you’re playing chess."

She let her hand fall back onto the hospital bed, the moonlight filtering through the window casting long shadows across the sterile walls.

Her mother, France, visited often now. She brought bread, sometimes cake. But ESCE knew it wasn’t out of love—it was guilt. Guilt for the years of neglect, the avoidance, the emotional distance. France was trying to make amends, trying to patch up something that had already shattered.

But guilt did not equate to care. It was a mere obligation. Something shallow. Something temporary.

Her so-called 'father'—West Germany—refused to visit at all. Whether it was shame or fear, she couldn't tell.

But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any of them. Not even America, who was supposed to visit soon.

Let them come. Let them watch. Let them believe she was just a child trying to regain her memories. Let them remain blind.

---

(Current time:when ESCE was leading the pact of trading of coal and steel)

ESCE groaned inwardly as she stared at the mountain of paperwork before her. Piles of official documents cluttered the large desk, and she swore they multiplied every time she blinked.

"Being in a high position in an organization or trade isn’t so bad—"

That was what she had thought.

But now?

"I TAKE IT BACK—!!!" ESCE/EU screamed in her mind as she aggressively signed another document.

"Told you! The duty of holding a high-ranking position is exhausting!" the whisper teased, its laughter ringing through her thoughts.

"Hehe, welcome to the world of responsibilities!" the whisper rejoiced.

ESCE’s eye twitched.

"I will make sure to take Father's documents and papers if his desk ever gets too full! I am NOT letting him suffer! This is ridiculous! These documents only exist because he’s involved! Darn those Allies! They’ve become even harsher than the Treaty of Versailles!!!" she mentally screeched, slamming her pen down with frustration.

The whisper giggled.
"Oh? So much for 'everything is going according to plan,' huh?"

"Shut up," ESCE grumbled, rubbing her temples.

Just then, the door creaked open.

"ESCE, you're going to strain yourself if you keep overworking like that."

She didn't have to look up to recognize the voice—France.

ESCE took a deep breath, her face instantly shifting to a more composed expression. "I’m fine," she responded flatly, barely glancing at her mother.

France sighed and walked over, placing a small plate with a pastry beside the mess of papers. "I brought something sweet. Thought you could use a break."

ESCE stared at the pastry. It was neatly plated, the scent of vanilla and almonds wafting up. Another gesture of guilt. Another attempt to mend something that had already burned to ashes.

She picked it up, turning it in her fingers before taking a small bite. Sweet. Soft. Empty.

France watched her carefully. "…You know, you don’t have to do all of this alone."

ESCE swallowed, then gave her a small, artificial smile. "I know."

Lies.

France hesitated, as if expecting her to say more, but when nothing came, she nodded. "Alright. Just don’t forget to rest."

She left the room, and ESCE placed the half-eaten pastry back on the plate, her fingers tightening around the edges.

"She’s trying," the whisper murmured.

"Trying to fix something that can’t be fixed," ESCE corrected.

She leaned back in her chair, glancing at the towering stacks of paperwork.

No. She wouldn’t let her father suffer under the weight of this responsibility. Not when she could bear it herself.

With renewed determination, she picked up her pen and got back to work.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

'Yet... I had a feeling that America is already growing suspicious by the time he got here... Ugh... He's a pain in the back!'
ESCE thought, her fingers slightly twitching as she lay still.

'Stick to the plan, nice and easy... If you let your anger slip, you will end up like Third Reich on an invasion against Russia—'

The whisper joked, its presence like an unwelcome ghost in her mind. The words made ESCE flinch, her body reacting instinctively before she could stop herself. A sharp pain shot through her side as she moved too suddenly.

"Ow—"

France immediately rushed to her side, his brows furrowed with concern. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I don't know..." ESCE admitted, frustration bubbling under her words. Truth be told, she could move, but only barely. It was as if something inside her wanted to act, but whatever command it was supposed to follow had been lost. Her body hesitated, frozen between instinct and reason.

Nearby, America sat slouched in a chair, arms crossed as he observed her closely. His aviation glasses reflected the dim light in the room, but even through them, he caught sight of something unusual. Her right eye—normally golden-yellow—had shifted to a deep, eerie red. His stomach churned at the sight.

He blinked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he was just imagining things? It wouldn't be the first time.

There had been moments before—visions, glimpses of the past. He remembered once, when Weimar Republic was still alive, seeing the faint outlines of souls hovering around him. The Reichtriangle and Austria-Hungary spirits had embraced Weimar as though they were protecting their son. And, of course, they had hugged Third Reich as well. The two children had argued endlessly, yet in those fleeting moments, their souls had seemed at peace, bound by something stronger than their conflicts.

Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the spirits vanished, leaving America to question whether he was truly seeing ghosts or merely hallucinating.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, he opened his eyes again and—without thinking—reached out, pinching ESCE’s cheek.

Her reaction was instant—eyes widening, face scrunching up. That expression... It reminded him so much of Weimar that his breath caught in his throat. But before he could let himself fall into nostalgia, something else stood out.

Her teeth. Those sharp, jagged teeth.

His chest tightened as the memory came rushing back. The last time he had seen fangs like those, they had been lunging at him, snapping with the intent to tear through flesh. Third Reich had bared those same teeth before his death. It was an image burned into America’s mind, one he had hoped never to see again.

A shiver ran down his spine, but he didn’t let go. He barely noticed ESCE weakly trying to remove his hand.

"..."

She looked distressed, her eyes watering, but America hadn’t noticed at first. It wasn’t until France placed a hand on his wrist, his voice stern but not unkind, that he realized.

"Be more gentle, mon fils," France said softly.

America swallowed and loosened his grip, pinching her cheek with much less force. ESCE, in turn, stilled, uncertain of how to react. Her mind was swirling. What was this supposed to mean? What was America thinking?

Then, as if on instinct, America patted her head with his free hand. The texture of her hair, the way it fell—it was eerily similar to Weimar’s. But she wouldn’t know that. Third Reich had likely erased every mention of Weimar from her life. She had no way of understanding the connection.

Minutes passed, and the visit dragged on. Eventually, the doctor entered the room, informing them that visiting hours were coming to an end. With that, America, France, and the others took their leave, casting one last glance at ESCE before exiting the room.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving ESCE alone with the doctor. A heavy silence settled between them.

Once ensuring that no one was near the hallway, the doctor turned to her with an expectant smile. "Can we talk again? I want to discuss the contract we signed before."

ESCE’s lips curled into a smirk—a smirk that was all too familiar. For a moment, it wasn’t her own expression but an imitation, a ghost of someone else’s. A smirk that mimicked Third Reich’s perfectly.

"Don’t worry... I was planning to," she said, her voice laced with an eerie amusement. Then, tilting her head slightly, she added, "Also, you possessed someone’s body. That’s nice. No one even noticed... Impressive."

The doctor chuckled, seemingly unfazed. "Never saw you smile like that before."

ESCE merely held her smirk, the crimson in her right eye flickering ever so slightly. The night was far from over, and the conversation they were about to have would change everything.

Chapter Text

(The current time, where AFD was searching for his supposed older unnamed sister. Honestly, I almost forgot about this fact...)

Chapter 12

AFD was delivering another speech in Frankfurt.

He tried to act normal, yet he couldn’t shake the lingering memory of his visit to the laboratory. There had been something there—something watching him, waiting for him to acknowledge its presence. The thought sent a chill down his spine, but he forced himself to remain composed.

---

The Speech

Standing before a crowd of officials, civilians, and military personnel, AFD took a deep breath before addressing them.

**„Meine Mitbürger, wir stehen heute an einem entscheidenden Wendepunkt der Geschichte. Unsere Nation hat Herausforderungen, Rückschläge und Widerstand erlebt, aber wir haben auch Wachstum, Ausdauer und Entschlossenheit bewiesen. Unsere einst fragile Wirtschaft wird jetzt stärker. Durch strategische Reformen und politische Maßnahmen haben wir erlebt, wie Industrien florieren, die Arbeitslosigkeit sinkt und Innovationen die Führung bei unseren technologischen Fortschritten übernehmen.

Die wirtschaftliche Entwicklung ist das Rückgrat unseres Wohlstands. Durch unermüdliche Anstrengungen und disziplinierte Investitionen können wir eine Zukunft der Stabilität und des Fortschritts sichern. Infrastruktur, Handel und modernisierte Produktion müssen Hand in Hand mit nationaler Einheit und Zusammenarbeit gehen. Dies ist nicht nur eine Vision, sondern eine Realität, die wir aktiv gestalten.

Unsere militärische Macht ist ein Beweis für unsere Widerstandsfähigkeit und die Hingabe derer, die dienen. Wir sind keine Kriegstreiber, aber wir werden nicht wehrlos sein. Sicherheit ist unerlässlich, und eine starke Verteidigung sichert Frieden. Wir haben unsere Streitkräfte reformiert und modernisiert, um auf jede Herausforderung vorbereitet zu sein, die auftreten könnte. Durch Disziplin und Strategie gewährleisten wir die Sicherheit unseres Volkes und die Souveränität unseres Landes.**

Aber jenseits von Wirtschaftswachstum und militärischer Stärke liegt der wahre Fortschritt in der Reformation. Eine neue Struktur, eine neue Ordnung, die Tradition und moderne Innovation in Einklang bringt, wird uns in eine Ära des Wohlstands führen. Wir müssen zusammenstehen, aus vergangenen Fehlern lernen und mit erneuerter Zielstrebigkeit voranschreiten.“

(Translation: "My fellow citizens, today, we stand at a crucial juncture in history. Our nation has faced challenges, setbacks, and opposition, but we have also witnessed growth, perseverance, and determination. Our economy, once fragile, is now strengthening. Through strategic reforms and policies, we have seen industries thrive, unemployment decline, and innovation take the lead in our technological advancements.

Economic development is the backbone of our prosperity. It is through unwavering effort and disciplined investments that we can secure a future of stability and progress. Infrastructure, trade, and modernized production must work hand in hand with national unity and cooperation. This is not just a vision but a reality we are actively shaping.

Our military power stands as a testament to our resilience and the dedication of those who serve. We are not warmongers, but we will not be defenseless. Security is essential, and a strong defense ensures peace. We have reformed and modernized our forces to be prepared for any challenge that may arise. It is through discipline and strategy that we ensure the safety of our people and the sovereignty of our land.

But beyond economic growth and military strength, true progress lies in Reformation. A new structure, a new order, one that balances tradition and modern innovation, will guide us into a prosperous era. We must stand together, learn from past failures, and forge ahead with renewed purpose.")

As his words echoed through the hall, the audience erupted into applause. AFD took a moment to scan the faces before him—some beaming with pride, others filled with quiet contemplation. But beneath it all, he couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him like a shadow.

---

After the Speech

After stepping down from the podium, AFD moved through the crowd, shaking hands and acknowledging the praise. Yet, the weight of that unshakable feeling followed him. Something—someone—was still watching. He did not dare look back.

Once outside, he walked toward a nearby restaurant, hoping a meal might clear his mind. The bustling atmosphere was a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts plaguing him. He took a seat, ordered his food, and forced himself to focus on the present.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the sensation crawling up his spine, the memory of failed experiments, the grotesque images from documentaries he had watched about scientific projects gone terribly wrong. What if the thing in the laboratory was one of those failed experiments? What if it wasn’t just a product of his imagination?

His grip tightened around the fork as his meal arrived. He exhaled, trying to shake off the fear. He had work to do, responsibilities to uphold. Whatever was lurking in the shadows, he would deal with it later. But for now, he would eat, pretend all was well, and push forward.

And yet… that feeling never left.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

It seemed as if that feeling would never leave him.

AFD tried to ignore it, but it followed him everywhere. Right now, he was struggling to calm down. He was on his way home, hoping to finally get some rest. Yet, he didn't want to be alone.

He thought back to the movies he had watched with his siblings. Those failed experiments had terrified him, and now, those fears felt too real. He wasn’t a coward—he wasn’t running away—but in every film, the first mistake the protagonist made was always investigating further. Most of them ended up dead or, worse, infected. With so many similar movie plots, he had long forgotten the titles, but not the outcomes. If what was hidden in that underground laboratory was anything like what he feared, he wanted no part of it.

The thought alone made his stomach churn. He swallowed back the nausea, trying to focus on getting home.

As soon as he stepped inside, he locked the door behind him. His hands trembled as he made his way to his room, straight into the bathroom, and collapsed over the sink. The moment his mind conjured images of an outbreak—of an anomaly escaping and spreading a virus—his body revolted. He barely managed to reach the toilet before he vomited.

He wiped his mouth, breathing heavily. He had made sure to lock his cabin before leaving. The containers holding those substances were secured more than even his documents. He could worry about them later. Right now, he needed to rest. Still, his gut instinct told him otherwise. It had saved him before—he couldn’t ignore it now. He needed a weapon, just in case.

His siblings' prayers echoed in his mind. Even though they never forced their beliefs on him, he was grateful for them. Especially SPD and CSU, both deeply religious, always praying for their family’s safety. Despite his own uncertainties, he had no desire to hate the God they followed. They were kind to him—why would he disrespect the very faith that guided them?

A soft knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"...AFD?"

That voice.

"I'm fine. Get out," he responded, his voice hoarse.

"...Are you okay?" EU asked hesitantly.

There was a brief pause before she continued. "Mr. Germany has been worried about you. After he found out your siblings bailed you out—"

"Just leave... please? I need some time here..."

AFD turned back to the sink, gripping its edges as another wave of nausea threatened to take over. His body refused to settle.

There was silence, then the sound of quiet footsteps retreating.

"I'm sorry I can't reveal the whole truth to you..." EU murmured softly before leaving.

She thought he hadn't heard her. But he had caught just enough.

---Chapter 13.5

"What?"

AFD barely caught the words. He only heard the apology, not the full sentence.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, but EU was already outside his room.

His mind swirled with questions. Just... who are you, EU? Why is your connection to Father so deep, as if you're a relative?

The more he thought about it, the more questions arose. Who is EU, really? Why does she act like two different people—two separate entities?

He had once seen European Union and Europe Union together, but he could never quite understand the difference between them. They looked like twins. Yet, their roles were vastly different. European Union seemed more focused on trade and negotiations, while Europe Union was more of a money and tax collector.

The truth behind their identities became clearer when EU split herself into two. He had witnessed it firsthand—the moment one called the other "Europe Union" while claiming the name "European Union" for herself. That was when he realized the so-called clone wasn't just a copy, but something else entirely.

Europe Union, the tax collector, had an unsettling presence. He was more cunning, more manipulative than the main EU. Something about him made AFD uneasy.

He remembered one defining difference: European Union had a golden-yellow right eye and a crimson-red left eye. Meanwhile, the one known as Europe Union had two yellow eyes.

AFD didn't know what that meant yet, but one thing was certain—he needed answers.

However, one fact unsettled him more than anything: European Union was far more dangerous than Europe Union, the clone. He didn't know why, but deep inside, he understood that he had to be careful when speaking to European Union. And since the EU that had spoken to him had two yellow eyes, it was definitely Europe Union, the clone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

AFD opened the door and stepped out of his room. EU was waiting for him, her expression unreadable.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked.

"Yes—"

He stopped mid-sentence. Something caught his attention. Her eyes—one golden-yellow, the other crimson red. But it wasn’t just her eyes. Her voice was different too. It was the voice he remembered from his childhood—the voice that had comforted him, cared for him when he was younger. Only now did he realize that EU had always been two different people.

AFD recalled the moment he had witnessed it firsthand—EU splitting herself into two, a secret she had never told anyone. He had been lucky—or perhaps unlucky—to see it happen. If she had caught him watching, it could have been a disaster. If the world ever found out, it would cause an uproar.

But what if the real European Union was not the one people saw every day? What if the EU everyone interacted with—the one that was serious yet occasionally silly, sarcastic yet lighthearted—was nothing more than a facade? A carefully crafted clone, designed to deceive the world? That would mean the true EU was something else entirely. If the original was in hiding, then she must be more cunning, more unpredictable—someone who carefully concealed herself while manipulating events from the shadows.

But why? Why go to such lengths to remain hidden? Why deceive the world?

AFD swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm. He had to tread carefully. If the real European Union was as dangerous as he suspected, then finding out the truth would be more difficult than he initially thought. He couldn't risk exposing himself—not yet.

He decided to test the waters.

"Why is your left eye red?" he asked casually, though his mind raced with questions.

EU blinked but showed no sign of surprise. "Just color contrast. It’s normal for organizations to have anomalies like this, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

But AFD wasn’t convinced. There was something in the way she spoke, something guarded. He knew she was hiding something, but he chose to stay quiet—for now.

He studied her, trying to determine if this was the real European Union or the clone. If her left eye was red, then she had to be the real one. But that meant the one the world saw—the one collecting taxes, enforcing regulations, and handling diplomacy—was the clone.

A part of him wanted to push further, to demand answers. But the rational part of him knew better. If he pressed too hard, she might realize that he knew more than he should. He had to be careful, patient.

Instead, he let the conversation drift to safer topics, responding politely but keeping his mind sharp. If he was going to uncover the truth, he would have to do it slowly, piece by piece, without drawing suspicion.

Yet, one thought lingered in his mind—

The real European Union was far more dangerous than her clone.

And he needed to be very, very careful.

Chapter Text

EU left after a minute, giving AFD a brief pat on the shoulder before walking away.

He stood there, watching her retreating figure, wanting to see if she would do anything unusual. Yet, he quickly dismissed the thought. After all, EU was not someone who could be easily deceived. She noticed everything, yet somehow, she always acted as though she noticed nothing at all. It was a contradiction that both frustrated and fascinated him.

She had been taking care of him since he was a baby. He may not have any recollection of it, but there were photos—evidence that she had held him in her arms when he was just an infant. In those images, she looked happy, yet something about her expression felt distant, almost neutral. She didn’t seem to care about the picture, as if the moment held no sentimental value to her. But if that were true, then why was she always watching over him?

A thought crept into his mind, something that had been gnawing at him for a long time. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and made his way toward his father’s office.

As he stood before the door, he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the wooden surface. He swallowed thickly, steeling himself before finally knocking three times.

"Ja? Komm rein," Germany’s voice came from within.

AFD took a deep breath and slowly pushed open the door before stepping inside. The office was dimly lit, the scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air. His father sat at his desk, surrounded by a mountain of documents, his piercing blue eyes flicking up to meet AFD’s.

"Vater, kann ich dich etwas fragen?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Germany’s eyes locked onto his, and AFD immediately averted his gaze, unable to hold the intensity of his father’s stare.

"Mmhh? Ja, was ist das?" Germany asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

AFD clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words. "Just why?..." He exhaled sharply before continuing. "Why does EU act so differently at work and at home? It’s like she’s an entirely different person. Sometimes, it feels like someone else is replacing her… Last week—or maybe a few days ago—"

Germany sighed, rubbing his temples. "EU put you in jail because you were instigating a rebellion, even if it was only for a moment. Whether this was your first speech against her or not, your actions had consequences. Your little rebellion nearly caused an uproar, not only against her but against me as well. Issues began sprouting from that incident, and I will not tolerate this behavior. You should show her the respect she deserves. At work, she is fulfilling her duties, but at home, she is simply herself. There is a distinction." He picked up a pen and resumed going through his documents. "Your speech was not just about EU—it was against me as well. Many nations will assume that you are attempting to overthrow me."

AFD frowned, his frustration mounting. He took a step closer to his father’s desk. "Go on..." Germany encouraged him, still focused on his paperwork.

"EU… Why do you act like she’s your daughter? She isn’t even blood-related to me! Why do you treat her as if she were part of this family? What is the reason, Vater? Answer me!" His voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

Germany didn’t react immediately. Instead, he continued reading, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, suffocating and unbearable.

Finally, Germany placed his pen down and sighed. "Geh, wenn das alles ist."

AFD's breath hitched. That was it? No explanation, no justification? Just a simple dismissal?

He clenched his jaw, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to press further, to demand answers, but he could see it in his father’s posture—Germany would not entertain this discussion any longer.

Gritting his teeth, AFD turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t understand. Why was his father hiding something from him? Why couldn’t he just give him a straightforward answer?

As he walked down the dimly lit hallway, his mind swirled with unanswered questions. EU wasn’t his sister. They weren’t related. And yet… she had always been there, watching over him, protecting him, scolding him like an older sibling would. His father treated her like a daughter—like family.

But why?

Little did he know, the answer lay in the shadows of the past—buried deep, hidden from him. EU wasn’t just some outsider. She was his older sister. And for reasons only she knew, she had decided to keep it a secret.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

(Current Time – ESCE in the Position of Trading Coal and Steel)

ESCE groaned inwardly as she stared at the mountain of paperwork before her. Piles of official documents cluttered her desk, and she swore they multiplied every time she blinked.

"Being in a high position in an organization or trade isn’t so bad—"

That was what she had thought.

But now?

"I TAKE IT BACK—!!!" ESCE/EU screamed internally as she aggressively signed another document.

"Told you! The duty of holding a high-ranking position is exhausting!" the whisper teased, its laughter ringing through her thoughts.

"Hehe, welcome to the world of responsibilities!" the whisper rejoiced mockingly.

ESCE’s eye twitched as she glared at the endless paperwork.

"I will make sure to take Father's documents and papers if his desk ever gets too full! I am NOT letting him suffer! This is ridiculous! These documents only exist because he’s involved! Darn those Allies! They’ve become even harsher than the Treaty of Versailles!!!" she mentally screeched, slamming her pen down with frustration.

The whisper giggled.
"Oh? So much for 'everything is going according to plan,' huh?"

"Shut up," ESCE grumbled, rubbing her temples.

Just then, the door creaked open.

"ESCE, you're going to strain yourself if you keep overworking like that."

She didn't have to look up to recognize the voice—France.

Taking a deep breath, ESCE quickly shifted her expression to one of practiced composure. "I’m fine," she responded flatly, barely acknowledging her mother’s presence.

France sighed and walked over, placing a small plate with a pastry beside the mess of papers. "I brought something sweet. Thought you could use a break."

ESCE stared at the pastry. It was neatly plated, the scent of vanilla and almonds drifting through the air. Another gesture of guilt. Another attempt to mend something that had already burned to ashes.

She picked it up, slowly turning it in her fingers before taking a small bite. Sweet. Soft. Empty.

France watched her carefully. "…You know, you don’t have to do all of this alone."

ESCE swallowed, then gave her a small, artificial smile. "I know."

Lies.

France hesitated, as if expecting her to say more. But when nothing came, she simply nodded. "Alright. Just don’t forget to rest."

She left the room, and ESCE placed the half-eaten pastry back on the plate, her fingers tightening around the edges.

"She’s trying," the whisper murmured.

"Trying to fix something that can’t be fixed," ESCE corrected.

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes trailing back to the towering stacks of paperwork.

No. She wouldn’t let her father suffer under the weight of this responsibility. Not when she could bear it herself.

With renewed determination, she picked up her pen and got back to work.

---

Lying to France was easy. No wonder her grandfather—Third Reich—had such an easy time deceiving her.

Yet, even before she had fully recovered, America had already been suspicious.

She still couldn't believe how in the world that country had Mind Hallucinate Contradiction.

How?!

That ability should have been rare, yet America—of all people—possessed it? Those aviation glasses of his prevented him from seeing the illusion she carefully maintained. If he ever took them off, if he ever realized the truth, he would see her real eye color. He would see through the act.

And he didn’t even know he had this ability.

ESCE swallowed hard, gripping her pen tighter.

"Good thing Uncle—" She mentally corrected herself. "Mr. America doesn’t know he has the Mind Hallucinate Contradiction ability… Or it’d be the end for me. And my acting."

She exhaled slowly, calming herself.

Everything was still under control.

For now.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

After finally finishing the mountain of paperwork at her headquarters, ESCE—or rather, ECSC—sighed in relief. The moment the last document was signed and filed away, she wasted no time grabbing her coat and heading out the door.

The crisp evening air greeted her as she stepped into the parking lot. Without hesitation, she slid into the driver's seat of her sleek black car, the engine purring to life with a low rumble. The vehicle was unmistakable—it bore the official European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) license plate, its striking black and blue colors standing out against the dull metallic body.

Many people often mistyped her acronym as "ESCE", but she never bothered correcting them. It was easier to let them misinterpret her name while she continued her work unnoticed. However, one thing was always clear—her flag bore two horizontal stripes, blue and black, adorned with gold or silver stars. Unlike most, she did not belong to any single country, yet she resided in Germany’s territory.

Germany’s daughter was known to be strict yet reserved. At times, she could be approachable, even easy to converse with, but other times, she was unreadable—quiet, distant, unreadable. People had long since learned to tread carefully around her moods.

Tonight, however, her purpose was urgent.

She gripped the wheel tightly, her crimson eyes briefly flashing in the dim glow of the dashboard before she forced them to shift into the illusionary blue she always maintained.

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, the car launching forward as she sped down the roads leading to German territory. Any normal driver would have been stopped by patrols or slapped with a hefty speeding ticket. But not her.

The black-and-blue ECSC license plate was instantly recognized by the police.

The moment they saw the insignia of the Organization, they simply saluted and stepped aside.

They knew better than to stop her.

After all, Germans were infamous for their love of speed, especially on roads where no speed limit was enforced.

Tonight, it seemed ECSC was in a hurry.

---

Meanwhile – German Territory

Germany sat at his desk, his sharp gaze focused on the last set of documents that needed his attention. The weight of responsibility never seemed to lessen—every paper held consequences, every decision another burden to bear.

With a sigh, he signed the final document, setting the pen down just as—

BAM!

The office door slammed open, nearly coming off its hinges.

"Vater, I'm back!"

A familiar voice rang through the room, loud and unapologetic.

Germany didn't even flinch.

He had long since grown accustomed to this.

Standing in the doorway, ECSC stood proudly, grinning despite the exhaustion evident in her posture.

Her energy was always unpredictable. One moment, she was dragging herself through long work hours, looking as if she could collapse at any second. The next, she was bursting with energy the moment she stepped into his presence.

Germany silently observed her, noting the contrast between how she carried herself in public versus how she acted when she was around him.

She was always so lively when he was near.

If she looked tired anywhere else, it was because he wasn’t there.

Germany leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he gave her a nod. “You’re back sooner than expected, ECSC.”

He never made the mistake of mispronouncing her acronym.

Unlike others who absentmindedly called her "ESCE", he always addressed her properly.

She beamed, taking it as a silent acknowledgment of her presence. "Of course! Do you think I'd let work hold me back? You always say to be efficient, and I am!"

Germany raised a brow at her enthusiasm but said nothing, merely gesturing for her to sit.

ECSC flopped down onto the nearby chair, stretching out her arms. “Ugh, paperwork is such a nightmare! But I got it all done. No loose ends!”

Germany gave a small approving nod. “Good.”

For a brief moment, silence filled the room. ECSC tapped her fingers on the armrest, eyeing him carefully.

"You didn’t overwork yourself while I was gone, did you?" she asked suspiciously.

Germany let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “I finished what I needed to. Nothing more.”

She squinted at him, unconvinced.

"Mmhm… Sure, Vater," she muttered, but let it go for now.

She wasn't going to argue tonight.

Instead, she leaned back, allowing herself a brief moment of peace. The drive had been long, and the weight of responsibility always lingered at the back of her mind.

Germany studied her in silence.

There was something about ECSC—something others often failed to see.

She carried an invisible burden. One that most wouldn’t even recognize.

And yet, despite everything, she still had enough energy to barge into his office like a whirlwind, grinning as if the weight of the world wasn’t on her shoulders.

He admired that about her.

Even if she wouldn’t admit it.

---

ECSC – Inward Thoughts

Germany always called her ECSC.

Never ESCE.

He understood the difference.

And yet, sometimes, she wondered if anyone else did.

Her flag—blue and black, with gold or silver stars— was a symbol of something greater than herself.

She wasn’t just a person. She was an entity. A system. An Organization.

She did not belong to any one country.

But she lived in Germany’s land.

She worked alongside him.

She carried the weight of trade, of diplomacy, of politics—of an entire foundation built on the ruins of war.

And the world saw only what she allowed them to see.

But her father?

Germany saw more.

And that was enough.

For now.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 – A Ghost’s Wandering

Weimar wandered, lost in an endless void. Not quite a ghost, not just a spirit—something in between.

Darkness surrounded him, stretching infinitely in all directions. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t even know if there was anywhere to go. All he knew was that he was walking.

For how long?

Minutes? Hours? Days? Months? Years? Decades?

Time had lost meaning.

The last thing he remembered was his little brother—Third Reich—shooting him in the head. A sharp flash of pain, then nothing.

And now, here he was, trapped in this abyss.

Then, like a flood, memories resurfaced.

The suffering of his people. The way the Allies had drained his country dry, leaving it a barren husk, bleeding it until there was nothing left. His economy in ruins, his dignity shattered. And then—his own demise, orchestrated by a leader he had never trusted.

Adolf Hitler.

The man who had helped his brother rise to power. The man who had spoken with fire in his voice, promising to restore what was lost. The man who had ultimately discarded him, just like the world had.

His own little brother—his own successor—had pulled the trigger.

And yet...

Weimar exhaled, his empty chest aching as if he still had lungs. He couldn’t bring himself to hate him.

What good would hatred do? What good would vengeance bring? He was tired. So very tired.

And he had been walking in this void for so long.

Would it ever end? Would this darkness ever stretch into light?

Would he always be alone?

Then—

A warmth. A shift in the emptiness.

Ahead of him, figures appeared.

His steps halted, his breath catching in his throat.

Vater…? Mutter…?

His voice trembled as he rubbed his eyes, his vision blurry—not from the void, but from tears. Tears he hadn’t realized he still had.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, he saw them.

Austria-Hungary. German Empire. His parents.

Austria-Hungary rushed forward, immediately embracing him. "My dear… I-I'm so sorry we had to leave you so soon… I know it was too much. I’m sorry."

Weimar knelt, burying his face into her shoulder. His hands trembled as he clung to her, feeling warmth for the first time in so long. "Mutter…"

German Empire stood beside them, resting a heavy hand on his son’s back. His grip was firm but full of sorrow. "You didn’t deserve this, Junge…"

Weimar swallowed hard. He wanted to say something. Anything. But words failed him.

Then another voice spoke.

"...So, this Third Reich is the current leader of our country?"

Prussia’s voice held an unreadable tone, but before he could continue, another figure appeared in the void.

A lone silhouette.

Weimar’s breath hitched.

Third Reich.

His little brother stood there, silent. His posture was rigid, his fists clenched. His uniform, once pristine, was stained with something dark.

And then, barely above a whisper—

"...Dumm. I failed."

The words came out hoarse, raw with something deeper than just regret.

Third Reich didn’t move. He simply stared ahead, his gaze locked on the endless abyss beyond them. He didn’t even acknowledge them.

He was walking. Just as Weimar had walked.

Walking toward nothing.

Walking away from them.

Weimar’s chest tightened. He knew that look. That expression.

Shame.

Before he realized it, he had moved. His arms wrapped around his little brother, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Es tut mir leid, kleiner Bruder…"

Third Reich stiffened. "No…" His voice cracked. "It was my fault… Don’t hug me—" He tried to push him away.

Weimar only held on tighter.

Third Reich shook his head. "I… I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be here."

And yet, despite his protests, he didn’t pull away completely.

German Empire stepped forward, his sharp gaze taking in his youngest son. "...Why are you a woman?"

Third Reich flinched, looking away.

Austria-Hungary reached out, gently pulling her into a protective embrace, much like she had done with Weimar moments ago.

Weimar glanced at their mother, understanding the answer before she even spoke.

The nation’s form was tied to its rulers.

If a male heir was lost, the nation could shift. Austria-Hungary herself had once been a man when she ascended as emperor, but after Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s death, she had reverted to a woman.

Third Reich had changed, too.

The weight of their history, their legacy, their mistakes—it all settled between them.

Third Reich didn’t cry, but she trembled. Weimar could feel it.

So he held on.

He had walked this void alone for too long.

He wouldn’t let his little brother do the same.

No matter what had happened.

No matter what he had done.

They were still brothers.

And that was something death could never take away.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 – Family Reunions and Lingering Regrets

Or perhaps siblings—since Third Reich was currently a woman.

Weimar didn’t mind. It didn’t change anything.

They stood in the abyss, an eerie silence settling over them like mist.

Then, without warning, a sprinkle of something cold hit Third Reich’s head.

She flinched, blinking in surprise before exchanging a confused glance with Weimar.

Slowly, the two turned their heads toward Holy Roman Empire.

The old ancestor merely smiled, eyes closed as always. His expression remained unreadable, but the subtle way he held his fingers suggested what had just happened.

Holy water.

He had just thrown holy water on Third Reich.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither dared to question it.

Weimar hesitated before clearing his throat. "...Was that really necessary?"

Holy Roman Empire remained silent, his smile unwavering. His eyes never opened—they never did. His black sclera had always unsettled others, and everyone knew that if he ever opened them, it meant he was truly furious.

Prussia, for his part, stood quietly, arms crossed. He wasn’t laughing, nor was he teasing. Just observing.

German Empire—or rather, Reichtriangle—adjusted the paper flag tied around his face.

A strange accessory, but one with a purpose.

No one knew what lay beneath it. No one was supposed to.

And then there was Austria-Hungary.

Two eyepatches covered both of her eyes, giving her the appearance of someone blind. Yet she moved with no hesitation, walking with practiced ease. The truth was, she could see through them just fine.

She simply chose to act blind.

For fun.

For deception.

For reasons no one but her understood.

Their family was odd.

And many were still absent.

But now that both Weimar and Third Reich were here, it was time to find the others.

---

Weimar exhaled, rubbing his temple before turning to Third Reich.

"So… Bruder—ah, Schwester." He corrected himself quickly. "How’s your son? Germany?"

A simple, polite question.

Third Reich immediately stiffened.

Panic flashed in her eyes as she looked around frantically. "Wait—is ECSC here?!"

Silence.

Austria-Hungary tilted her head. "...Who?"

"My granddaughter." Third Reich’s voice was quiet, almost reluctant. "She… I…"

She didn’t finish.

German Empire—Reichtriangle—folded his arms. "You killed her too?" He didn’t sound surprised.

Third Reich flinched.

"No. We haven’t seen her or met her yet." Reichtriangle continued.

Third Reich swallowed hard, rubbing the back of her neck. "...I see."

Her mind raced.

Where was ECSC?

If she had died, shouldn’t she be here?

Unless…

Unless she had ended up somewhere else.

Would she have found the other absent family members? Teutonic Order. Austrian Empire. Kingdom of Hungary.

Would she be safe? Would they even accept her?

She wished she could see her again.

She wished she could hold her.

She missed her.

Her bright eyes. Her sharp little canines when she smiled.

But she had been paranoid.

And paranoia had cost her everything.

Her gut had screamed at her—warned her of something, of danger.

And she had believed it.

Believed it so much that she had turned on her own flesh and blood.

Just because ECSC was half French.

The thought made her stomach twist.

If she could go back—if she could do it all over again—would she have been better? Kinder? A proper grandparent?

But she hadn’t been.

She had failed.

Again.

---

Weimar noticed her expression shift.

"...About Germany," Third Reich muttered, staring at the ground. "I don’t know what happened to them after I died."

Silence followed.

Then—

"That reminds me." Prussia suddenly spoke up, arms still crossed. "Your chest is flat—"

A sharp, withering stare from Reichtriangle.

"Father."

Prussia flinched.

A second, far more dangerous glare came from Holy Roman Empire.

"Prussia." His voice was low, firm.

Prussia winced, looking away.

"You should not speak badly about a woman's body," Holy Roman Empire continued, tone eerily calm.

He had not opened his eyes.

But he was close to doing so.

And if that happened—

Prussia shuddered. "S-sorry! I won’t ask that again!"

Third Reich sighed. "It’s—"

Prussia immediately cut her off. "Nope, nope, nope. Not finishing that thought."

Weimar, who had been silently watching, finally sighed. "Grandfather… What’s your problem?"

Holy Roman Empire merely smiled.

"He's just being old," Third Reich muttered under her breath.

Prussia gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "How dare you."

"You're literally old, Vater," Reichtriangle deadpanned.

"I am not old!"

"You are," Austria-Hungary chimed in, arms folded.

"Silence, you eyepatch gremlin."

Austria-Hungary merely smirked. "That’s Empress Eyepatch Gremlin to you."

Holy Roman Empire chuckled softly, shaking his head.

For a brief moment, the abyss didn't seem so empty.

They were a broken, strange, complicated family.

But they were still a family.

Even in death.

---

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 – Shadows of the Past

The German family continued their march through the abyss, the endless void stretching infinitely before them. None of them knew where they were going, nor did they have any sense of direction. But they walked together, trailblazing their own uncertain path through the darkness.

For a long time, silence lingered between them, broken only by the faint sound of their footsteps against the unknown terrain.

Then, Weimar hesitantly spoke.

"Brot—…Sister, um… How’s your relationship with Soviet Union? You two were friends since childhood, weren’t you?"

He glanced at Third Reich, expecting an immediate response. Instead, she flinched. A small, nearly imperceptible shiver ran through her body, but it was enough for Weimar to notice.

"Schwester? Bist du okay?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"J-Ja… I am. Just don’t ask that… kind of question."

Her voice was quiet, forced. She looked away, as if unwilling to meet his gaze.

Austria-Hungary’s brows furrowed in worry. "Something wrong, dear?" She reached out gently, placing a hand on Third Reich’s lower abdomen.

The reaction was instant.

"Mom! No—don’t touch me there!"

Third Reich recoiled violently, nearly stumbling back in the process.

Silence fell over them.

Weimar's eyes darkened, his mind racing to connect the dots. Then, realization dawned.

His voice was barely above a whisper. "...Did Soviet…?"

Third Reich tensed. She hugged her arms around herself, her entire body rigid.

"...I deserved it."

Weimar’s breath caught in his throat.

"I… I betrayed him. Let’s not linger on it."

Her words were hollow, as if she had long since convinced herself that this was the truth.

A cold, suffocating tension settled over the group. Then—

A sharp intake of breath.

A shift in the air.

The paper flag wrapped around Reichtriangle’s face fluttered slightly, lifted by the force of his rising fury. His voice, usually deep and controlled, now rumbled with barely contained rage.

"What do you mean, 'not linger on it'?"

The void itself seemed to react to his wrath.

His terrifying black sclera, his blood-red irises—they burned with something primal. Dark tendrils shot up from the abyss, twisting and writhing like living creatures. The parasite within him stirred.

Wirtsfluch.

A cursed inheritance. A burden passed down through generations of their bloodline.

A parasite that granted the host the power to manifest black tendrils—shadows of their anger, extensions of their pain.

And right now, Reichtriangle’s pain was consuming him.

"He touched you against your will!" he thundered.

The tendrils lashed violently, some curling around his own arms, others slamming into the void ground as if seeking something to destroy. The weight of his emotions sent an almost tangible shockwave through the abyss.

Third Reich met his gaze head-on.

There was no fear in her eyes. No flinching.

Only exhaustion.

"Father," she said, her voice steady. "I don’t want to talk about it."

For a moment, no one spoke.

The abyss itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

"Yes," a calm voice interjected.

Holy Roman Empire.

He hadn’t moved much during the exchange, standing still as ever, his unreadable smile never faltering. His pitch-black sclera remained closed, concealing whatever emotions lay behind them.

"And dear grandson," he continued, addressing Reichtriangle, "you should not force her if she does not wish to speak. Forcing her would only reopen wounds that should not be touched."

His words were gentle but firm.

Slowly, Reichtriangle’s breathing steadied. The tendrils, which had been writhing chaotically, began to retract, dissolving into the abyss from which they came.

Even so, the rage had not left his eyes.

"This isn’t over," he muttered under his breath.

But for now, he would let it go.

The group resumed walking, silence settling over them once more.

No one knew where they were headed.

But they knew one thing—

Even in the afterlife, the shadows of the past still followed them.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: Echoes in the Abyss

The German family continued their slow, steady walk through the abyss, their footsteps echoing softly in the endless void. Though they walked together, an invisible wall of silence stretched between them—thick with unspoken fears, regrets, and memories that refused to fade. The darkness around them was absolute, broken only by faint ripples of shifting shadows, as if the void itself breathed alongside them.

Austria-Hungary sighed, her voice breaking the silence. “Wandering without direction won’t do us any good. We need a purpose, a goal.”

Holy Roman Empire nodded, adjusting the grip on his cane. “If we are here, then others may be as well. We should seek them out. We are not the only ones lost in this place.”

Weimar cast a sideways glance at Third Reich, his concern barely hidden. “Maybe if we find others, we’ll understand why we’re here.”

Reichtriangle had remained silent until now, his expression dark and unreadable. His mind was still clouded with rage over what had been revealed earlier, but he finally spoke. “Fine. But if we find Soviet, I make no promises.”

At his words, the void around them seemed to shift, as though reacting to the intensity of his emotions. It was then that a faint glow appeared in the distance.

They instinctively slowed their pace, watching the light with cautious curiosity. It was the first sign of something—perhaps someone—awaiting them ahead. But there was no urgency, no imminent threat. They continued forward at a steady, casual pace, their tension lingering but not driving them into a sprint.

Weimar glanced at his sister—his brother—no, his sister. It was still difficult for him to process the changes. The smooth strands of her golden hair reflected the dim light of the abyss, and he found himself missing the times when he would comb his younger sibling’s hair, back when things were simpler.

A quiet mutter broke his thoughts.

“I hope that isn’t Russian Empire…” Prussia said under his breath.

The entire family heard him, their attention now focused.

Holy Roman Empire tilted his head slightly, his confusion evident. “You mean Tsardom of Russia or…?”

“He meant the Russian Empire. The son of Tsardom of Russia, Grandfather,” Reichtriangle clarified, his tone neutral.

“Ah… I see.” Holy Roman Empire hummed thoughtfully.

The comment almost made Prussia laugh, but he barely held it in.

“I can see that you’re trying to hold back your laughter,” Holy Roman Empire teased with a small smile.

Prussia coughed and straightened up, trying to maintain his composure.

The light in the distance grew stronger as they approached. Then, standing before them, cloaked in the colors of black, yellow, and white, was Russian Empire.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Reichtriangle and Russian Empire locked eyes, the weight of history pressing between them.

“Привет,” Russian Empire greeted first, his deep voice steady.

“Hallo,” the Germans responded in unison—except for Third Reich and Weimar, who instinctively took a step back.

They knew better. The scars of World War I, the Great War, ran deep. German Empire and Russian Empire had been bitter enemies in that era. Even in death, could such hostility linger?

The atmosphere remained thick with tension. The abyss around them seemed to hold its breath.

Russian Empire studied the group before him, his sharp gaze lingering on each of them before finally settling on German Empire.

“It has been a long time,” he mused.

German Empire crossed his arms. “Indeed.”

There was a pause, an unspoken challenge in the air. The younger generations watched cautiously, waiting to see if this would end in words or conflict.

But then, Russian Empire’s lips curled into a smirk. “You look well, old rival.”

German Empire raised an eyebrow, but there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze. “And you look just as insufferable as ever.”

A chuckle escaped Russian Empire’s lips, the tension easing ever so slightly.

“I take it you are also searching for answers?” he asked, glancing at the void surrounding them.

“We are,” Austria-Hungary answered. “But it seems we are walking blind.”

Russian Empire hummed in thought. “I have been here longer than you. This place… shifts. It reacts to us. To our emotions, our history. You may not realize it yet, but it is watching you.”

The words sent a chill through the group.

Prussia scoffed. “Great. So we’re stuck in a haunted void?”

“Not quite.” Russian Empire folded his arms. “There is something—someone—at the center of this place. I have not seen them, but I have felt their presence. It is ancient, powerful… and waiting.”

Third Reich, who had remained silent, finally spoke. “Waiting for what?”

Russian Empire looked at her carefully, his expression unreadable. “That, I do not know.”

A hush fell over them once more. The void stretched endlessly in all directions, yet for the first time, it felt smaller, as if something unseen was drawing closer.

Weimar swallowed. “So… what do we do?”

Russian Empire turned away from them, staring into the darkness beyond. “We move forward.”

It was a simple answer, but it carried a weight none of them could ignore.

And so, together, they stepped forward into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

"... So... you have a daughter?" The Russian Empire glanced at the Third Reich with a raised brow.

"No. She—or he—was like me." Austria-Hungary interjected before the Third Reich could respond.

"Yeah... a woman."

Russian Empire barely finished his sentence before German Empire—Reichtriangle—slapped him across the face.

A heavy silence settled between them.

"... Wait... Sis was actually a woman from the start?" Weimar furrowed his brows, visibly confused.

"Yes." Austria-Hungary’s response was direct, as if the answer should have been obvious all along.

"Ah... Mom, why didn’t you tell me?" Weimar turned toward his mother, a mix of shock and disbelief in his expression.

Austria-Hungary said nothing. She merely stared ahead, her silence stretching for what felt like minutes—maybe even hours.

The weight of unspoken words filled the air until Russian Empire finally broke it.

"Now that the silence is done, can I explain the whole abyssal situation here?" His voice cut through the tension.

"Huh?" Prussia mumbled, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Well, there is someone in the center of this void. Yet we can only reach it once the soul of that individual lets itself be free of burdens..." Russian Empire paused, letting his words sink in before he continued. "After you let go of your burden, you can leave this abyssal place. Yet, I'm not letting go of something..."

The group walked on, the eerie stillness of the void pressing around them. German family members followed closely behind, their faces set in deep thought.

"Soviet. You still hate him?" Third Reich asked, her voice calm but carrying an underlying tension.

"Yes... But I need time to calm down and think clearly. If I let anger consume me, I’ll be mad for all eternity. And when I see him again—if he ever does die—I still don’t know if I’ll consider him my son anymore." Russian Empire's voice was controlled, but there was bitterness beneath it.

A heavier silence fell over the group. The mention of Soviet—or USSR—stirred unwanted emotions.

German Empire—Reichtriangle—tightened his jaw, his expression darkening. He refused to acknowledge the existence of that man. The one who violated his daughter. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"... Father."

Third Reich turned to her father, her eyes unreadable.

"So... can most of us shift into the opposite gender?" Weimar asked suddenly, breaking the tension with an unexpected question.

"No. The gender we currently have—we should accept this gift." Holy Roman Empire's voice was calm, almost distant, as if he had already come to terms with something the others hadn't.

"Yeah..." Prussia muttered, glancing to the side as if lost in thought.

Holy Roman Empire hesitated for a moment. "Son..." He turned toward Prussia but stopped himself before fully opening his eyes. He kept them shut—he knew what they looked like. His black sclera was enough to terrify most.

Prussia felt the weight of Holy Roman Empire’s gaze even without seeing it. He looked away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"... Um... Heh."

The atmosphere remained tense, but the conversation had shifted slightly. It was easier to focus on their current predicament rather than old wounds and deep-seated grudges.

Elsewhere in the Abyss

The void around them pulsed as if it were alive. The endless darkness stretched in every direction, broken only by faint, shifting lights—echoes of lost souls and forgotten memories.

As they moved forward, they came across a cracked mirror, half-buried in the abyssal mist. Its reflection showed distorted images—glimpses of the past, fragments of memories that no longer belonged in the present.

Third Reich hesitated before stepping closer. She saw herself in the reflection, but it wasn’t her as she was now. It was the person she used to be—the one who had been stripped away by war, by history, by the choices she had been forced to make.

Weimar and Prussia stood beside her, their reflections shifting unnaturally.

"These... are memories," Austria-Hungary murmured, observing the mirror closely.

"Not just memories," Russian Empire corrected. "They're remnants of what we left behind. Pieces of our past that still cling to us, even when we try to move forward."

Third Reich's reflection twisted for a brief moment, showing a younger version of herself—one that looked almost innocent. A girl who had once held dreams before they were shattered.

Her fists clenched. She didn’t need to see this. She already knew what she had lost.

Russian Empire looked at his own reflection and saw something that made his expression harden. The figure in the mirror wasn’t just him—it was the Soviet Union.

A younger, more naive version of the man he once called his son.

He let out a slow breath. "... I’m not ready to face this."

"You don’t have to," Austria-Hungary said quietly. "Not yet."

The mirror cracked further, as if reacting to their emotions, before shattering completely.

The fragments dissolved into the abyss, leaving nothing behind.

"Let's keep moving," German Empire—Reichtriangle—said firmly.

There was no point in dwelling on ghosts.

And so, they walked on.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

They walked through the abyss, their footsteps soundless against the shifting void. The past clung to them, whispering in the form of floating, broken glass shards. These fragments shimmered, reflecting memories long buried yet never forgotten.

To say they were not fascinated would be an understatement.

Holy Roman Empire paused as he noticed a particular shard glowing faintly in front of him. As if responding to his presence, the glass shifted, morphing into an image of the Teutonic Order.

His breath caught in his throat.

And then, there she was—his wife.

The memory rippled like water, showing glimpses of fleeting moments. Her laughter, the warmth in her gaze, the way she stood beside him, unwavering and strong. A bittersweet ache settled in his chest. It was strange how memories could feel so distant yet so painfully close at the same time.

Around him, the others had begun to experience the same pull of nostalgia.

Each of them focused on different shards, drawn to the reflections of their past.

A Father’s Memory

Prussia came to an abrupt stop, his gaze locking onto a floating shard just ahead.

He turned toward his son, German Empire, and then back to the glass.

The image it held was of himself—Prussia, younger and unscarred by time, cradling his son in his arms.

His fingers twitched slightly.

He had been so young back then, full of pride and hope. He had sworn to raise his son strong—to make him the mightiest empire the world had ever seen. Yet time had not been kind.

Prussia swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away before the past could consume him.

Siblings at War

Holy Roman Empire’s gaze flickered to another shard. It, too, responded to his thoughts, shifting into a scene from long ago.

Two children—Austria and Prussia—locked in a seemingly endless battle.

It had always been like that between them, even when they were young. A constant cycle of fighting, rivalry, and stubborn pride.

And yet, beneath it all, there had been something more. A bond neither of them would ever openly admit to.

The memory blurred and cracked before fading into the abyss.

Holy Roman Empire sighed. Some things never truly changed.

A Son He Could Not Face

Russian Empire stood stiffly before a shard, his expression unreadable.

The glass shimmered before forming an unmistakable image—Soviet Union.

His son.

A coldness settled in Russian Empire’s chest. He had seen enough.

Without hesitation, he turned away, refusing to look any longer.

Some burdens were too heavy to bear.

A Silent Understanding

Weimar and Third Reich both stopped before the same shard, their reflections merging within its broken surface.

Weimar hesitated, glancing at his sister.

Instead of summoning his own memory, he let her go first.

Third Reich stared at the shifting glass, her eyes filled with something unreadable.

She saw a past that no longer belonged to her. A time before everything had crumbled—before she had been shattered and rebuilt into something else.

Weimar said nothing. He simply watched as his sister confronted whatever memory the glass had chosen to show her.

A Wife’s Nostalgia

Austria-Hungary, the wife of German Empire, traced her fingers over a floating shard.

It was a simple memory—one of warmth, of quiet moments shared between husband and wife.

She exhaled softly. It was nostalgic, yes. But that was all it could be. The past was the past.

The Center of the Abyss

In the heart of the void, four massive glass shards hovered above the darkness.

The third shard displayed ECSC, her face obscured by a paper flag eerily similar to the one German Empire always used to cover his own face.

And beside her, in another shard, stood an unfamiliar figure.

Their flag was unmistakably German—black, red, and yellow—but with a purple triangle at the first edge.

An unknown country.

Yet neither ECSC nor the one standing beside her were truly countries.

The abyss pulsed as if waiting for them to uncover its secrets.

And for the first time, they all realized—there was still so much they did not know.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

"Wait… you have more than one grandchild?" Austria-Hungary asked, turning to Third Reich with raised brows.

Third Reich hesitated before answering.

"...I think? Germany and I weren’t very close in the ‘40s after the invasion of France."

Russian Empire let out a chuckle.

"...Your family has a habit of invading France."

"...Shush," Prussia reprimanded him, though even he couldn't deny the truth in that statement.

The conversation shifted as Prussia turned his gaze toward the large floating shard.

"...Who's the other German flag? What kind of German country does it represent?"

Before anyone could answer, the massive shard began to shift. The glass fractured and vanished, but the figures that had been inside remained. They stood there—translucent, crystalline, and eerily still.

Then, one of them moved.

The country with the paper flag over their face stepped forward. Their voice was soft yet carried a strange weight to it.

"Lebensborn, I will be back… Grandfather is calling me."

The other figure—whose flag bore the colors black, red, and yellow with a purple rectangle at the start—tensed at those words.

"But ECSC—! I mean, ECSC… why won’t Grandfather call me too?" Lebensborn asked, frustration laced in his voice.

ECSC turned slightly but did not waver.

"You're not part of the army… And you don't even represent any country or any military force yet. You're younger than me."

"But I want to join!" Lebensborn protested, his voice rising with desperation.

"No." ECSC’s response was firm. Final.

And just like that, the figures faded, dissolving back into the void. In their place, two new large shards materialized—one bearing the ECSC flag and the other, the flag of Lebensborn.

The group tensed, preparing for a possible threat, but nothing happened. It was just another memory playing out before them.

German Empire—Reichtriangle—stared at where ECSC had stood, his gaze narrowing slightly.

"Wait… so that ECSC country-flag… also had a paper flag. But it only hid her eyes, not her whole face like me… What's wrong with your granddaughter's eyes?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Third Reich frowned.

"I don’t know, Father… Her eyes were just blue as I remembered. I don’t recall her having any eye problems."

But as she spoke, memories surfaced. She had seen them once—those eyes.

Red.

A sharp, piercing red that eerily resembled her own.

A chill ran down her spine.

Her ability—Mind Hallucinate Contradiction—was one of her defining traits. It allowed her to distort reality in the minds of others, bending perception to her will. But she hadn't sensed that energy in ECSC.

No, ECSC did not possess the same ability.

And yet… her eyes.

They were too similar. Each time she had looked into her granddaughter’s gaze, it was as if she were staring at a reflection of herself. A distorted mirror. A version of herself that was not her, yet undeniably was.

It was unsettling.

A deep unease settled in her chest.

"I think… it's just that she and I share the same eye color," Third Reich finally said, though the words felt uncertain even as they left her lips. "Yet she hides them with an illusion."

She hesitated before adding, "I'm not sure why."

Russian Empire listened carefully before speaking.

"I won’t wonder too much about it," he mused, his tone thoughtful. "Your eyes already feel unsettling enough. If your granddaughter’s are even remotely similar… it would make sense for her to hide them. If she revealed them, she could cause mass panic, freak out the army, or even unintentionally rally more enemies against her. She’d become a walking nightmare on the battlefield. To avoid unnecessary fights—especially against multiple countries at once—hiding her eyes would be a strategic move."

Third Reich considered his words carefully.

"...You're mostly correct," she admitted after a moment. "Germany—my son—was the one who put that paper flag on her. But instead of her own flag, he made her wear his—the black, red, and yellow German flag."

A strange silence followed.

The abyss seemed to pulse in response to their conversation, as if it, too, held secrets they had yet to uncover.

And in the distance, more shards of memories floated. Waiting.