Solving of the Countries (Book 2)

Chapter 105

The first strike had landed. It was not physical. It was more complex. Emotionally and mentally.

BRICS' Mind was heavily tethered to his members'. Every memory that Russia was losing, BRICS was losing one of his as well. And both were dangerously unaware.

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"Something isn't sitting right with me," India mused, thinking thoughtfully like a philosopher contemplating on emotional taxes.

"Yeah. Me. Move over you lump," Iran playfully pushed against India to sit on the bench next to him.

"Russia hasn't answered my texts or my calls," India said. Iran rolled his eyes.

"He hardly ever does," Iran said, though there was the air of concern hovering around him.

"Not only that," India's voice lowered, tense. "My Link with BRICS seems to be weakening." Iraq, who's been silent, spoke, his voice nearly a whisper.

"I'm suspecting something. It can't be just the war with Ukraine." There was a noticeable tremor in his voice. "I walked past Russia just a few hours ago. He didn't notice me."

They froze.
"What do you mean?" India demanded. Iraq was serious. No jokes. No lighthearted tone that he carried like a totebag.

"I was about to wave," Iraq's eyes looked haunted. "He didn't look at me, just walked past. It's almost like..." Iraq hesitated, as if voicing it would confirmed his fear, "he doesn't recognize me anymore."

Iran tried to chuckle, but it came out strained, "Haha, maybe he has a lot on his mind. You know, typical Russia. Always busy being moody..." Even he didn't sound convinced by his sad attempt at humor. India shook his head in disbelief.

"No. Russia wouldn't. He couldn't. He'd never forget us!"

"If he could help it," Iran said, sadly. "But we only have on way to test Iraq's theory." He turned to said country. "I'm hoping, with every fiber of my territorial being, that you are wrong." His voice almost shook. Iraq only nodded, his hope was already swallowed by the lack of acknowledgement from Russia.

"Do you think China knows?" India asked, trying to keep calm.

"If anything, he knew before any of us," Iran stood. "We need to ask him, and bring him with us."

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China was seated next to North Korea on a stone bench, beneath a tree that was barely flowering.

"Something's wrong," North muttered, eyeing the grass beneath their feet. "And no, I'm not talking about America's lack of intelligent symmetry, whatever that means."

He clenched his fists on his knees. When he spoke, it was abnormally hesitant. "Russia looked at me. Wrong. Empty." Perturbed. North was visibly upset.

Not wrong as in it pissed North Korea off. Wrong as in it wasn't right. Not normal. The image played back in his mind.

Russia's eyes, which used to shimmer with cyan light seemed a bit dim. They weren't, but in North Korea's one eye, it seemed so. "Why did he look at me like that?" He whispered.

China listened, watching. This was North Korea, being emotionally vulnerable in ways he never let anyone see. Even China rarely saw him like this, so shaken up.

"Does he... think I no longer matter to him?" The question nearly shattered North's frame.

North could've cried over anything. The way other countries shunned him. Hated him. Drowned out his voice to the point he had to resort to anger and fury to get them to notice.