One night, long after the sun had set and the streets had emptied, you (Bosnia) finally returned home. You crept through the front door, hoping to avoid waking Herzegovina. The dim light from the hallway cast long shadows, and your clothes, stained with dark patches of blood, clung to your weary frame.

As you stepped into the living room, you saw Herzegovina standing there, her eyes narrowing at the sight of you. She was not the type to let things slide, especially not something as suspicious as this.

"Bosnia," she snapped, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "where have you been?"

You froze, trying to find the right words. "I...I had some business to take care of."

Herzegovina took a step closer, her gaze now fixed on the bloodstains. "Business? Don't give me that. Why are your clothes covered in blood?"