Chapter Text
The story begins on July 7th of an unspecified year.
"Ve! Beyond my expectations, this island really exists!"
"Of course, it's here. Otherwise, do you think we'd be floating aimlessly in the open sea for a meeting, Feliciano?" Ludwig crossed his arms, looking at him with a hint of amusement.
"But, Ludwig, we've been drifting on the sea for so long! At first, I thought I'd never see land again!"
"Don't be surprised, Ferruccio-kun." Kiku explained patiently. "Islands are scattered across the vast Pacific Ocean. Though this is international waters, our destination island is secluded and rarely visited, much like the Japanese archipelago."
On the horizon, the outline of a small island loomed faintly.
Selected as the venue for the next global summit between the Axis and Allied powers, a ship carrying ten representatives of their respective countries attending the Conference set sail from the coast of Japan and finally arrived at its destination after several hours of travelling.
This was an exceedingly small island, so narrow that even walking from its east coast to its west would take less than an hour.
The ship skillfully navigated around the rugged cliffs and sailed into the tranquil bay on the east coast. Disembarking from the docking point, they found a winding pathway leading to the island's only structure — a spacious two-story villa.
The villa was quaint yet elegant, adorned with a picturesque viewing terrace and a small garden dotted with delicate vegetation. It stood proudly atop the steep cliffs on the island's west coast, with the boundless ocean as its neighbor, waves eternally lapping at the edge of the universe.
The southern half of the island was covered with a lush coniferous forest. Hidden beneath the green canopy was a signal tower, maintaining a delicate connection between this secluded Eden and the outside world.
The accompanying staff helped the participant carry their personal luggage into the villa, clean and organize the house, and prepare for dinner. After everything was ready, the chefs and maids left the island, as the upcoming global summit was a high-level meeting, and others had to return immediately.
"Look at this cramped place!"
"This island is too small for ten participant from powerful nations." Gilbert Beilschmidt whistled, his rebellious red eyes roving around, dissatisfied. "There's nowhere to explore!"
"Sir, please watch your language," Arthur Kirkland, the gentlemanly consciousness, reminded gently. "This secluded island is neutral territory, renowned for its privacy and security, making it an excellent choice for private meetings. As for the natural scenery and climate, they're not within the scope of your current inspection."
"But I agree with Gilbert!" Alfred F. Jones chimed in at an inopportune moment, inadvertently undermining his brother. "When you own an entire North American continent, this land feels narrow!"
"But North America doesn't belong to you alone..." Matthew Williams mustered the courage to retort, only to be drowned out by his usual low-key presence.
"Gilbert, if you find the space insufficient —" Ivan Braginsky flashed a self-deemed friendly smile. "The plains and forests of Wania's family are always at your service!"
"Thank you, but I don't need it," Gilbert glanced at the Slavic man, whose peculiar personality was evident in his soft yet eerie voice and perpetually smiling face, giving him chills. "I'll manage somehow."
"Youngsters shouldn't be so lethargic! Even an old bone like me can accompany you on this long trek!" Wong Yao stretched, though with his youthful and handsome appearance, But he was the oldest of the participants.
"Look at this enchanting scenery! Why can't you appreciate the profound beauty of nature, little Gilbert?" Francis Bonnefoy plucked a rose as if the blooming rose garden was created solely for him, his words dripping with charm.
"Let's put aside our disputes, gentlemen!"
Ludwig Beilschmidt stood on the porch, knocked gently on the door to silence everyone, and then commanded, "At least fulfill your responsibilities as national participants and take this seriously! The upcoming summit is crucial, and I expect your full cooperation."
"Yes, sir!" Feliciano Vargas saluted Ludwig playfully before rushing into the house, the first to arrive.
Honda Kiku, known for his meticulousness, followed closely behind, his hair impeccably styled and attire immaculate. He bowed slightly to Ludwig and stepped inside.
The villa's interior matched its exterior, a classic and exquisitely designed Western European structure.
The ground floor featured a spacious hall with an elegant fireplace at the center, overlooking a terrace and a cozy library with a panoramic view of the garden. The dining room was adjacent to the kitchen for convenience. Besides a guest bedroom, there was also a servants' quarters neatly stacked with various household items.
Alfred, however, scorned the ornate decor. "No matter how fancy it looks, it's just a hole in the wall." He scrutinized the intricate carvings beside the fireplace with sharp eyes. "Look at these so-called artworks. What's their use? Just like my last century's residence, they're outdated junk."
"Darling, it's called style and art!" Francis said seriously. "Modern minimalist decor is getting boring, so many designers are returning to timeless classics. Don't worry; despite its old-fashioned decor, this house also incorporates the comfort and convenience of modern living."
"It's not about art or not —!" Gilbert fumed. "There's no internet connection here!"
The rebellious man's white hair seemed to stand on end with anger as he walked around the house with his phone. "Oh, thank goodness! Finally, two bars of signal!"
"That's good, brother," Ludwig, usually stern, spoke with a hint of coercion in his calm voice, his deep blue eyes fixing on his rebellious sibling. "You should focus more on the meeting and less on your phone. If you don't listen, for educational purposes, I'll have to confiscate it."
"I refuse," Gilbert muttered. "Hey, I'm your elder brother. Educational sanctions are my right."
Saying that, he waved his empty hand, having cleverly hidden his phone.
Arthur paced slowly in the hall, scrutinizing the layout of the ground floor.
Not only was he an English gentleman but also an expert in mysterious magic and occultism, able to perceive fairies and spirits invisible to ordinary people and forge deep bonds with them. Accustomed to his connection with the supernatural, he often made decisions based on the information they provided.
However, the moment he stepped into the house, all "supernatural entities" sent him urgent and loud warnings, urging him to leave immediately.
Staring at the grandfather clock on the wall, he heard the ticking of the pendulum transform into hammer blows against his skull, sending a chilling shiver down his spine.
"I don't like this place..." Arthur trembled slightly, which might have appeared to others as just a shiver from the cold, but he knew it was the unease deep within him. "It makes me feel uneasy."
"Oh? Wasn't it you who just solemnly told me, 'We're not here to play'? And who reprimanded me, 'We shouldn't concern ourselves with external matters'?" Gilbert seized the opportunity to sneer sarcastically.
Arthur didn't argue further but shook his head gently, trying to dispel the unease in his heart.
"Ludwig-kun, with your permission, I'd like to go to my room to place my katana properly before the meeting begins."
Kiku bowed respectfully to Ludwig Beilschmidt. Despite being long-time colleagues, the intricate and meticulous etiquette was deeply ingrained in the Japanese.
Ludwig nodded, and Kikuya ascended the spiral staircase to the second floor.
The second floor was meticulously arranged with ten bedrooms lining both sides of a spacious corridor, awaiting their guests. At the end of the corridor was a bathroom.
If Yao were to assess it, he might scrutinize it carefully before noting with slight regret that the construction of this house leaves much to be desired in terms of Chinese theories of occultism and architecture.
On the other side of the stairs was a wide and elegant veranda, a suspended observation deck offering a breathtaking view of the garden below.
The garden was a tapestry of beautifully arranged flowerbeds, each bursting with vibrant colors and fragrant blooms, as if painted by nature's most brilliant brushstrokes. Every detail revealed the unparalleled craftsmanship and care of the gardener, endowing every plant with life and soul.
By the southern fence stood a small, exquisite glass greenhouse, beside which was a sizable storage shed neatly organized with various gardening tools.
The garden was exquisite yet somehow discordant, lacking the cozy and homely feel of a private family garden. Instead, it exuded grandeur, extravagance, and a chilling aura.
After exploring the floor layout, Kiku returned to his room, located near the spiral staircase. Each room's door was labeled with the occupant's name, making it easy to find one's accommodation.
The room featured a spacious bed, a bedside table, an armchair, a desk, and a sturdy dark wooden wardrobe with an en-suite bathroom.
Although the furniture was minimal, the rich soft furnishings compensated well — a chestnut handmade wool carpet, heavy tweed curtains, an embroidered Chinese redwood screen with white bird patterns, and a French Louis XIV-style bronze-inlaid clock. Other decorative items added to the warm, comfortable, and stylish space.
Kiku's attention was drawn to a parchment hanging above the desk in a gilded frame, inscribed with a peculiar inscription. It was a well-known dark nursery rhyme:
Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little Indian boys travelling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.
Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Five little Indian boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were four.
Four little Indian boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little Indian boys walking in the Zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little Indian boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself and then there were none.
"Western culture truly amazes me. Who could be so imaginative to create such a macabre story and turn it into a nursery rhyme?" Kiku marveled.
As Kiku finished his exploration and descended the spiral staircase to the first floor, he found the others gathered in the dining room, some already seated at the table.
Ludwig leaned against the window, his figure bathed in the soft golden glow of sunlight, with Feliciano clinging intimately to his side.
As Kiku's figure slowly stepped in, the symbolic cowlick on Feliciano's head seemed to sense joy, gently swaying. With a radiant smile, he waved at Honda Kikuya and called out, "Hey, Kiku, come over here! I saved a great seat for you, right between me and Gilbert-nii."
Saying that, he affectionately patted the empty chair beside him.
Kiku sat down gratefully and began to look around. Directly across from him was Matthew, and next to Matthew was Francis.
In the center of the dining table, a steaming pot of deliciously colored sea cucumber soup exuded an enticing aroma. Below it, various appetizers and salads were neatly arranged on serving dishes. From the kitchen adjacent to the dining room, the aroma of mouth-watering cooked meats wafted out, as if warming up for the feast.
"Wow! Everything looks so delicious!" Feliciano exclaimed, trying to take a serving dish and start eating. Innocent, charming, and endearing, he always presented himself in such a manner.
"Feliciano, be patient and wait for everyone else," Ludwig beside him stopped his actions.
Faced with the variety of dishes, Kikuya didn't rush to choose one to taste. Instead, his gaze fell on the serving trays.
He noticed a gold-plated decorative tray in a prominent position on the table. In the center of the tray, a group of little figurine sculptures stood back-to-back in a circle, as if dancing joyfully in a ring dance. Their porcelain eyes exuded incredible depth and vivacity, facing everyone at the table and silently observing each participant in the feast.
Kiku counted them; there were exactly ten little figurine sculptures.
"This is really an interesting thing," Kiku began to discuss the dark nursery rhyme he had just read with the others. "These little figurine sculptures are surprisingly well-suited to the nursery rhyme at this moment."
"Exactly," Francis agreed. "I just went to my room and found that parchment inlaid on the wall as well."
"Why did you sneak back to your room? Did you go to add a few more layers of nose shadow to your Greek sculpture nose?" Arthur teased beside him.
"No, no, no —" Francis waved his hand. "I just used tweezers to pluck a few new wild England eyebrows."
"What did you say!" Hearing such a double-entendre dig, even the gentleman Arthur couldn't help but raise his voice.
"Oh, Matthew sweetie, can we switch seats?" Francis pleaded, turning to him. "If that bushy-browed Englishman keeps shouting in my ear, I'll go deaf sooner or later."
"Well... if you insist..." Matthew kindly stood up and gave him his seat.
Finally,Yao, who had been helping in the kitchen, finished his culinary masterpiece and sat down opposite Arthur.
Now, only the last guest remained to be seated.
"If you weren't the host of this summit, this chair wouldn't have been saved for you," Arthur frowned, using an elder brother's tone to scold his younger brother. "On such occasions, be more responsible and avoid being the one who's always late, Alfred."
The American boy just shrugged indifferently and casually pulled the chair, sitting down with a thud.
"Gentlemen, please enjoy the meal! —" Feliciano announced loudly, interrupting all conversations, and then he took out his knife and fork, becoming the first to "attack" the delicious food.
During the meal, the dining table was filled with a relaxed and joyful atmosphere, even though everyone was talking about their own topics —
Yao and Alfred, seated next to each other, discussed the trade cooperation agreement they had just signed.
Ivan and Ludwig discussed the results of the last European rugby match, with Feliciano occasionally joining in the conversation. Although Ivan's victory in that match was partly due to him playing the Russian national anthem instead of the Soviet anthem as the host, which boosted Ivan's team's morale while also causing some trouble for Ludwig's team...
"It's been a long time since we've been together like this, having such a relaxed and enjoyable time!" Ivan exclaimed with his usual soft tone, closing his eyes contentedly, like a lazy Siberian forest cat curling up at someone's feet for a nap. "Vanya is really happy to see my friends again."
"It would be nice if you really had the so-called 'friends' you talk about, Ivan." Gilbert said sarcastically.
"Hmm...? What are you talking about? Vanya didn't quite catch that," Ivan's smile grew friendlier, resembling the standardized and proper smile of a Russian nesting doll.
"It's alright — your land should be covered in snow by now, right? That's why you couldn't hear me clearly," Gilbert poked his head out from behind his taller brother to tease Ivan.
"Snow? Where? It's still July, and it's not like Vanya's home has blizzards every day."
"Isn't your northern, bitter, and cold corner always freezing cold?" Francis picked up the conversation, looking surprised.
"It seems that Mr. Francis is still immersed in the old, romantic, and glorious Parisian dream," Ivan's smile grew deeper.
“Gentlemen, this party is just too much fun.” Kiku stood up, trying to stop a brewing conflict by changing the subject.
“Despite the old-fashioned décor that this villa maintains, everything in it is well taken care of - there are still hot meals, cozy rooms ready for a good night's sleep, and it has everything it needs. I must think of you to express my thanks, Ludwig-kun. Your ability to organize and arrange the meeting was top-notch!”
“Hmm? Kiku, wasn't it you who organized this summit?” Feliciano cocked his head, “I received an invitation written in your name.”
Suddenly, Alfred remembered something.
“Do you remember what you just said? Arthur!” The American lad's voice suddenly rose in pitch as he looked toward the older brother who had raised him.
“I've said many things, which one do you mean?” Arthur asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow.
“It's the one you said when I first came into the restaurant, the one about, 'You're the organizer, you need to take more responsibility'...The only reason I'm late, the only reason I'm being this reckless, is because- -I always thought you were in charge of this summit.”
“Not at all. The invitation I received was from you. I guess it can be more than just me, can't it, Frenchie with the scruff?” Arthur squinted at Francis.
“What? But the invitation I received was signed from Ivan. Which, by the way, is a situation that can give me a bit of the creeps.”
“Vanya didn't send anything like that, kroukrou——” The Russian's soft voice did take on a slight creepiness in this situation.
“Silence!” Ludwig slammed the table as hard as he could, and the entire room instantly fell silent. Everyone was stunned by his aura.
“Gentlemen, think about what this means. Each of us has received an invitation from someone here, right?” Ludwig asked gravely.
The remaining nine nodded mutely.
“But at the same time, each of you argued that you hadn't sent any invitations, is this the first time you've all learned about this place?”
Ludwig asked again, and again the crowd nodded.
“So, who gathered us here? Who prepared this place and this meeting? And what was the purpose? Please tell me!” Ludwig's voice echoed through the room.
The atmosphere of the room instantly froze, as if even the air stood still. Everyone was in deep thought. This was indeed a tricky question-who on earth had gathered ten national participants here under the guise of a summit? And what was his purpose?
“Are these your little tricks, French Frog?” Arthur looked to Francis and said, “Admit it, you pull pranks like this every year.”
“As you say, I specialize in using practical jokes to bring joy and love to people - but I don't see the slightest point in this silly idea.”
“What if... this really was an attempted international terrorist attack?” Matthew muttered nervously, “On this island, we're in great danger all the time.”
“Hey Matthew, don't curse yourself Aru with such unlucky words!” Yao stopped.
“Calm down, people! That kind of statement is just someone's stupid joke.”
They were either discussing or arguing, yet the sounds of these meaningless debates were finally interrupted by the striking of the tripod wall clock - which announced the arrival of three o'clock in the afternoon with a dull thump - the sound ceased abruptly, and then somewhere outside the window there suddenly rang out a loud blasting sound.
“Uh-what's that?!” Feliciano exclaimed in horror, but before his words had left his mouth, a sharp, piercing, chilling sound echoed through the room, causing everyone's hearts to clench.
My compliments to all present, and I ask for your attention.
“Where is that voice coming from?”
Alfred F. Jones.
Arthur Kirkland.
Wong Yao.
Gilbert Beschmidt.
Ivan Braginsky.
Honda Kiku.
Ludwig Beschmidt.
Matthew Williams.
Feliciano Vargas.
Francis Bonnefoy.
Each of you will stand trial here.
Each of you has been charged with theft, conquest, oppression, murder, genocide, Nazism, invention and use of deadly weapons.
You are responsible for the enslavement of mankind, the destruction of nature, the fomenting of conflict, slander and perjury, religious manipulation, and false propaganda.
For these crimes, you will be punished in a manner commensurate with the severity of the offense.
Gentlemen of the accused, do you have anything to say in your defense?
The voice rang out.
Suddenly, Gilbert sprang up from the table like a spring being released, rushing towards the bookshelf.
"The sound came from here!" he exclaimed as he haphazardly threw books from the shelf in all directions.
"I swear, I'll find that jerk who played this stupid joke! I'll stuff his prank phone up his ass! — Yes, here it is!"
Gilbert held up his trophy triumphantly, a completely ordinary-looking phone he had dug out from the chaotic pile of books. There were no contacts or files on it, just a timer entry with a message:
"My compliments to all present, and I ask for your attention."
"Turn it off immediately!" Arthur shouted, quickly rushing to Gilbert's side, abruptly turning around, and snatching the phone from him. "Who does this belong to? Confess!"
"It seems someone among us is involved in this," Kiku's expression remained calm, with a hint of speculation in his voice.
"This is just like bamboo shoots shooting up in spring, this chain of events makes me increasingly believe it's a premeditated action," Yao murmured.
"Ludwig, I'm so scared..." Feliciano sobbed.
"Calm down, it's probably just a malicious joke played by someone," Ludwig tried to soothe him, though his voice trembled slightly.
Ludwig rubbed his nose with slightly trembling fingers and declared loudly, "Everyone, calm down and be rational. This is not a terrorist attack! First of all, there's no place for intruders to hide on this island. Among us, there's only each other! Secondly, if he wanted to kill us, why would he arrange this luxurious mansion and prepare such an exquisite dinner for us? What's the point of doing that? This is just a prank or a misunderstanding."
Ludwig glanced around, secretly hoping someone would support him at that moment.
Fortunately, Kiku understood his thoughts.
"Ludwig-kun is absolutely right," Kiku timely took up the conversation. "This doesn't fit the modus operandi of terrorists at all. It lacks too many elements that should be present in a terrorist attack, so it doesn't seem like a real threat."
No one raised objections, and everyone seemed inclined to accept this milder hypothesis.
"What about the explosion outside the window?" Francis looked out the window. "I want to check it out, but I won't go alone. Who wants to come with me?"
"I'm with you," Gilbert volunteered.
"Count me in!" Feliciano hurriedly slipped out from the table and joined their ranks.
This makeshift reconnaissance team left the room and embarked on a journey to uncover the truth.
Arthur still stood by the bookshelf, fiddling with the old-fashioned keypad phone that Gilbert had found.
It was a common relic from a bygone era, a type of phone that was now rarely used. Besides the unpleasant recording, the phone was completely empty, without any other information stored and in a no-signal state.
Arthur gently lifted the back cover of the phone and scrutinized its internal structure, confirming that it didn't contain any eavesdropping devices.
"Can you find out in which country the SIM card inside the phone was registered?" Matthew asked, approaching him closely. Arthur instinctively stepped back; he hadn't realized how close Matthew had come to him.
"There's no SIM card inside the phone... it's just a pure, outdated electronic shell," Arthur replied.
One of the reconnaissance team members returned.
"The explosion came from the signal tower!" Gilbert announced loudly as soon as he entered. "The antenna and some other parts on the tower are damaged and scattered all over the ground. It's completely unusable."
"Congratulations, everyone. We're now completely cut off from the outside world," Francis complained, sitting back down at the table.
"No signal, for real!" Alfred checked his phone screen. "Ugh, I knew it. It's about time I got a satellite phone."
"I can see if I can fix the other things on the signal tower," Alfred mused. "Regardless, the crew knows they're supposed to pick us up in two days. Even without communication, it won't prevent the ship from arriving on time."
"I don't think it's possible to fix anything without the right tools... it's like a fish out of water," Gilbert said as he sat down and took a sip of beer, looking at his younger brother.
"But I'll be your best assistant, west."
Ivan emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large platter of lamb into everyone's view.
"Alright, gentlemen, since the issue of what exploded outside the window has been discovered, I suggest we continue with our second course. Let's also savor Yao's cooking."
He sliced the meat into portions and placed them on individual plates.
"You're so calm. This is like just another ordinary day for you," Alfred remarked with a hint of surprise.
"In Russia, we have a saying, 'Just another Tuesday.' Whether I panic or stay calm, what's the difference? If I can't control what's happening, I'd rather not burden myself and just enjoy a delicious meal," Ivan said, handing Alfred a plate.
"Don't you think this is better? Our all-powerful hero ruler. Want a spoonful?" Ivan asked.
Alfred readily accepted the offer.
After some hesitation, everyone returned to their seats and began savoring the sizzling lamb stir-fried with scallions before them. They gradually came to accept Ivan's perspective — their worries and uncertainties could not serve as the key to solving the problem. The wisest thing to do was to focus on what was at hand.
"Ugh, there's really a lack of entertainment on this island..." Gilbert, the elder of the Beilschmidt brothers, sighed with regret. "For the next two days, I'm afraid I'll have to kill time with boredom."
"Don't worry, brother, I won't let you be bored!" Francis chuckled mischievously. "Give me a few hours, and I'll turn this dull old mansion into your dream paradise."
"More like a nightmare paradise! Damn it, I can't even escape your clutches on this island!"
Suddenly, Alfred began to cough violently, his face turning red and choking to the point of speechlessness.
"I told you you ate too fast," Arthur complained disapprovingly. This wasn't the first time his younger brother had choked on food. "This is what happens."
However, the outcome was not like any of the previous times Arthur had witnessed.
After a persistent coughing fit, Alfred's face turned purple, and his hand gripping the fork fell limply to the ground. He reached for his throat, but to no avail. Within seconds, he slipped from his seat and crashed heavily to the floor.
"Alfred—? What's wrong with you, Aru?"
Yao, sitting to Alfred's left, was the first to react. He quickly stood up,Acting as the doctor, knelt beside Alfred, and pressed his ear to his brother's chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat, while his other hand felt for a pulse on his neck and checked his breathing.
Next, Arthur heard the news he had never wanted to hear in his life —
The doctor who had been examining Alfred lifted his beautiful face from Alfred's chest, his complexion as pale as paper. Arthur's gaze met those trembling black eyes, as if he were seeing a forest specter.
"I don't want to tell you a sad story, Arthur."
"But I can't believe it... he's dead."
Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.