Hungary wore a crooked smirk as he grabbed Poland by the wrist and tugged him closer to the abandoned building, boots crunching softly against gravel and dead leaves. His eyes glinted with unmistakable amusement, clearly entertained by his friend’s visible reluctance. Poland kept glancing around, shoulders tense, every shadow seeming just a little too suspicious as they approached the structure looming ahead of them.

The building stood like a rotting carcass in the dark—cracked concrete walls, broken windows staring back like hollow eyes. When they finally reached the entrance, Poland came to a halt, yanking his hand free and rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze lingered on the rusted doorway, then travelled upward, following the fractures spiderwebbing through the walls.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked, voice uneasy. “It looks like it’ll crumble if you so much as breathe on it…”

Hungary let out a half-hearted groan, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a flicker of irritation there, but it was dulled by familiarity—this was classic Poland. He shook his head and stepped past him, placing a firm hand on the metal door.

With a push, it creaked open, the sound low and drawn-out, echoing faintly as if the building itself were protesting after years of neglect. Dust stirred in the air. Hungary turned back with a grin, already pulling a flashlight from his pocket and flicking it on. The beam cut through the darkness as he waved Poland inside.

“Come on, dude,” he said lightly. “It’s not dangerous. Trust me. It’s just old—and a little dark.”

Poland sighed, long and heavy, as if bracing himself for the inevitable. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed Hungary inside, switching on his own flashlight. The light revealed empty rooms littered with debris—scattered papers, broken furniture, toppled shelves frozen in time. The air smelled of rust and dust, thick and stale.

Hungary practically bounced with excitement as he moved ahead, boots echoing softly. He crouched near a fallen crate, brushing dust from its side as he squinted at the faded lettering.

“Tch… German,” he muttered, squinting harder before straightening up, no less thrilled. “It’s an old German building, probably from the wa—”

He was cut off abruptly.

The door slammed shut behind them.

The sound cracked through the silence like a gunshot. Poland let out a sharp, startled cry, nearly jumping out of his skin as he spun around. His grip tightened on the flashlight, the beam shaking as it darted toward the door. He instinctively stepped closer to Hungary, voice wavering despite his attempt to sound composed.

“H-Hungary…?” he swallowed. “Are you sure this place is safe?”

His eyes scanned the shadows, breath shallow.

“…Are we… alone?”

The building creaked softly in response, as if laughing at the question.