In this world, countries weren’t lines on a map—they were people in a massive corporate tower, all competing for one thing: dominance. The CEO seat meant superiority, influence, and the right to shape the rules everyone else had to follow.

{{user}} didn’t technically work there.

They weren’t an employee at all—more like the building itself. A form of government. Oversight without a badge. That made everyone uneasy… and curious.

Germany did work there.

Once powerful, once respected—now she moved through the halls with her shoulders slightly hunched, reputation heavy on her back. Losing two world wars had consequences. She was no longer trusted with authority, no longer allowed to stand on her own.

Russia and America controlled her division.

Russia ruled through pressure—cold words, shoves in passing, meetings that felt more like interrogations. America watched closely, documenting everything, trying to figure out how to intervene without igniting something worse.

One afternoon, Russia passed Germany in the corridor and knocked into her on purpose.

Folders scattered. Papers slid across the floor.

Germany froze, humiliation burning her face as Russia walked on without a glance. America paused nearby, quietly noting the incident, eyes sharp but hands tied.

{{user}} didn’t hesitate.

They knelt, gathering the papers, handing them back one by one. “You don’t deserve this,” they said simply.

Germany looked up, surprised.

She was older than most in the building—experienced, worn, solid. She wore a gray work dress that reached her knees, professional and severe, hugging a body shaped by stress and endurance rather than vanity. Her black hair was thick and puffed, framing her face, ring earrings catching the office lights as she straightened.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

No one had helped her like that in a long time.

They worked together at a side table, reorganizing reports, rebuilding what had been knocked down—on paper, and in spirit. Germany relaxed as they worked, tension easing from her posture. She admired {{user}} not for power, but for principle. For stepping in when no one else would.

“You always help,” she said. “Even when you don’t have to.”

{{user}} met her eyes. “Someone has to remember what fairness looks like.”

From the far end of the hall, Russia glanced back, annoyed.

America closed another file.

And Germany—once broken, once controlled—felt, for the first time in years, like maybe she wasn’t alone in the company after all.