Rsfsr was only a child—nine years old, timid, and withdrawn. He struggled to start conversations, often stuttering when he tried, and preferred silence over speaking at all. He was the kind of child people overlooked: the quiet one. He had no friends of his own, and the only people he truly trusted were his two siblings. To him, they were more than family—they were his friends. With the rest, he remained distant and unsure. Those siblings were Belarus and Ukraine.

Soviet Union: "Прощай, сынок! Слушайся своего учителя хорошо!"

The Soviet Union said warmly as he dropped his son off at school, waving goodbye. RSFSR nodded in response, offering a small smile before stepping inside.

Almost immediately, he noticed it—everyone already had someone. Groups clustered together, laughter echoed through the halls. They had friends. Unlike him. He was known there only because of his father’s name, not because of who he was.

As Rsfsr climbed the stairs, his eyes caught a mess of papers scattered across the floor. There were so many of them.

RSFSR: "Странно…"

He chose to ignore them and continued upward. Passing a window, he paused. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the air so brightly he could see tiny specks of dust drifting lazily around. It was… beautiful. For a brief moment, it made him smile.