Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 5

Matthew just sat there, staring. Feliciano was watching him, his face unreadable as the words hung in the air. Feliciano claimed to be a ghost. Matthew didn't believe in ghosts, but Feliciano didn't seem as though he was lying. Matthew swallowed.

"Are… You're saying you're a ghost?" Matthew asked.

"You're the one that asked," Feliciano said. "I just answered your question."

Before Matthew could ask more, something burned along his back. He arched his back and cried out. And then there came a second burn. And a third.

"W-what's wrong?" Feliciano stammered, jumping to his feet.

"My back!" Matthew gasped. "It hurts!"

Feliciano scrambled behind him and lifted his shirt. Matthew didn't have time to feel embarrassed or indignant when another burning sensation came. Feliciano muttered something, before he shouted.

"Yao!" Feliciano called out. "Come here!"

Matthew curled up and whimpered as the pain continued. Yao burst in, looking several shades paler than before, and he quickly rushed towards them. Yao's breath hitched, but he said nothing.

"What are these?" Feliciano demanded, his anger radiating throughout the room.

"They're… lashes from a whip," Yao said.

"Lashes… Who did this? Was this… Do you know anything about it?"

Matthew closed his eyes as more pain radiated along his back. He could hear the words, but his mind was too focused on the pain to really be able to understand the meaning of the words.

"Your… A-after Master Romulus found out… He took him, a-and…" Yao stuttered. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"…Did someone at least tend to his wounds afterwards?" Feliciano asked, his voice cooling but not losing any of the anger.

"I… I tended to the wounds myself."

The pain finally stopped, and Matthew was panting and sweaty. A hand stroked his hair, and he was grateful for that distraction.

"What else did that man do?" Feliciano hissed.

"I… I don't think you want to know," Yao stammered.

"What I want right now doesn't matter. Matteo here is suffering from the injuries inflicted a hundred years ago. What else can we expect?"

There was silence from Yao, and when Matthew opened his eyes, he saw Yao fidgeting, avoiding Feliciano's eyes. He didn't understand why Yao was so scared of Feliciano, or why Feliciano was so angry on his behalf.

"He… He made sure that he barely got any food," Yao stammered at last. "Even less than you did, master Feliciano. A-and he… He received more beatings on other occasions."

Feliciano hissed.

"And what about the things that happened from the other servants?" Feliciano asked.

That question brought to mind what Marcello had said earlier, about the second son of the master of the house having an affair with one of the servants. Matthew also recalled the family portrait he had seen earlier. His eyes went to Feliciano with understanding.

Feliciano had been the son who fell in love with the servant. And Feliciano was the one that had killed everyone else in the house after his lover had been murdered.

That would also explain why Yao was so scared of Feliciano. It wasn't about Feliciano being a cruel master or anything, but because Feliciano killed him. Feliciano had been nothing but kind to Matthew. Feliciano had killed the others in a moment of anger and sorrow. Matthew didn't think that he could blame Feliciano for that.

Matthew paused. His mind screamed at him that he should be cautious. Feliciano was the ghost of someone who murdered dozens of people. Common sense demanded that he shouldn't feel as comfortable around Feliciano, but there was just something about Feliciano that soothed him. And Feliciano was angry on his behalf.

And then Matthew realised that the echoes that Feliciano had mentioned earlier were the things that had happened to his lover all those years ago, before he was ultimately murdered. Feliciano was trying to find out from Yao what else happened to his lover. Perhaps it was partly because Feliciano wanted to know what his lover had gone through, but Feliciano had been very clear that he wanted to know because Matthew was suffering.

"They locked him in closed spaces," Yao said. "Closets, secret passages… They made sure to lock him in there, and he would sometimes be there for hours, and once he was locked in for three days. There were more minor things, like being tripped, or having dirty water dumped on him, but…"

"What are the most serious injuries that we can expect?" Feliciano demanded.

"…He was once pushed down the stairs. His ankle twisted, and he still had to do his work like that. I think he was physically threatened once – I saw finger-shaped bruises around his neck, but he didn't want to talk to me about it. His eyes were… dull. I think things were starting to weigh on him. And then, obviously… There was when he died."

At that, Matthew felt cold. Glass appeared in his shoes. He felt the sting of a whip against his back. Would he be killed, the same way the servant had been killed? Feliciano's eyes widened and his mouth thinned, as though he was thinking the same thing.

"We need to get you to that room," Feliciano whispered. "If the house is doing something to you… That's the safest place you'll be."

"A-are you sure?" Yao stammered. "I mean…"

"I know. But he'll be with me. And I don't want you to let anyone know where he is."

Yao quickly nodded. Feliciano turned back to Matthew and helped him to his feet. Matthew winced as the floor pressed against the cuts. Yao moved closer.

"I can…" he started.

"Leave," Feliciano said. "I can take care of him on my own."

Yao flinched, before he nodded.

"I-I'll leave you to it, then," Yao said, before he scampered off.

"You shouldn't have been so harsh with him," Matthew said.

"He knew," Feliciano said. "A hundred years, and he knew. I don't like anyone keeping secrets about…"

Feliciano cut himself off, shaking his head.

"I guess it doesn't matter now," Feliciano said. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room. Can you walk?"

Matthew tugged his shirt back into place, fighting off the blush. Now that he wasn't distracted by the pain, he realised how awkward it was to have Feliciano do something like that so casually. Feliciano didn't seem very bothered, though. Matthew stood and hissed in pain.

"It's better," he said. "It's not ideal, but it's better."

"That's good," Feliciano said. "It's pretty urgent, but we probably shouldn't go too fast. Take as much time as you're comfortable with. Let me know if something else happens."

Matthew nodded. He grabbed his shoes, opting to carry them in his hand instead of putting them on and having them aggravate the wounds further. The wounds on his feet and on his back were less painful than they were earlier, but they still sent jolts along the rest of Matthew's body.

Feliciano went underneath the arm that wasn't carrying the shoes and put that arm around his shoulders. Feliciano was slightly shorter than Matthew, and it didn't feel awkward. It felt comforting, to be honest, and also a little familiar.

"Thank you," Matthew said. "Feliciano… why are you being so nice to me? We just met a few hours ago, but…"

Feliciano smiled sadly.

"You remind me of someone who was dear to me," he said. "He was the only person I ever cared for, and who cared for me. He's the only one I haven't seen again in all this time."

Matthew thought back to the story. Feliciano was probably thinking about his lover. He wondered what exactly it was about him that reminded Feliciano of him. He also thought it was sad. Feliciano was surrounded by people, but none of them were close.

"What about your father or your brothers?" Matthew asked.

Feliciano stiffened, and Matthew already regretted asking the question.

"We are related by blood," Feliciano said. "And that is all. There is no bond between us. No love. No compassion. Just a name that means more than the people who have it."

"I'm sorry," Matthew said. "I shouldn't have asked something like that."

"No, you have a right to know. And it's only natural to ask something like that. You met them."

Matthew nodded.

"I don't know why, but your father… he makes me feel uncomfortable," Matthew said. "Almost scared, to be honest."

Feliciano frowned.

"Well, he is a bad man," Feliciano said. "I'm not surprised. You have good instincts."

The two of them had been shuffling towards the door, and Feliciano reached out to open it. Matthew's breath hitched at what he saw.

…

"No," Lovino snapped. "I am not coming with you."

"Sorry, but once Al decides on something, there's no discouraging him," Jason said, a smirk on his face.

"You know who we need to talk to," Alfred said. "And if it turns out that this Francis is a dead end, then you're the one who's going to be able to tell us who to look for next."

"And why should I?" Lovino demanded. "You two aren't going to solve a death that happened a hundred years ago. And I don't want to be part of any weird ideas you'll come up with. I've already been accused of murder once tonight, thank you."

"Lovino…: Marcello said. "You know as well as I do that the two of us were partially to blame for it all."

"What…"

"We knew that what was happening was wrong, but we just left it like that. We weren't close to Feliciano at all. That only made it easier for him to kill us. That servant must have been the only person that Feliciano felt close to, and when he died, he had no one. If we were there for him, would any of that have happened?"

Lovino gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

"Feliciano overreacted," he said. "Who in their right mind kills everyone just because one person died?"

"Who in their right mind carries on with a party after a murder was discovered?" Marcello shot back.

"That…"

"Look, Mattie's with Feli, and we don't want him to get killed," Alfred snapped. "We care about each other. And don't you think Feli will be happy to finally know the truth?"

"And think about it this way," Marcello said, smirking slightly. "If they fail, then they will be stuck here, with us, for who knows how long."

Lovino stood from his chair and stormed towards the door. Marcello's smirk widened as Lovino stopped at the door.

"Well, are you coming or not?" Lovino demanded.

"A part of me is offended," Jason said. "And another part is impressed."

"If there's one thing that will make Lovino cooperate, it's threatening him with annoyance," Marcello said.

"And the part that's offended just got bigger."

"Come on," Alfred said, pulling Jason along.

Lovino waited for them before he opened the door. They didn't step into a hallway this time, but instead it was a brightly lit room. Four blonds were at one table. Two of them were sitting, while the other two stood nearby. The two that were standing looked similar to each other, while the two that were sitting also had a resemblance to each other.

The man seated at the table immediately noticed them and quirked his eyebrow. Jason already had a bad feeling about this encounter.

"Well, it is unusual to see any of the Vargas brothers paying me a visit," the man said. "Especially you, Lovino. I thought you hated me. And you brought guests."

"Shut up," Lovino snapped.

"Are you Francis?" Alfred asked.

The man's mouth twitched, before his smile widened.

"I am indeed," he said. "Francis Bonnefoy. And this is my lovely daughter, Camille. Now, how may I help you?"

"We're here about the auction," Lovino said.

Francis's smile fell, and his eyes flickered towards his daughter for a brief moment before he focused on the new arrivals. Behind him, the young man looked tense.

"I didn't think your father would allow you to discuss things like that in front of others," Francis said, flicking his eyes towards Alfred and Jason.

"You were pretty eager to win the auction," Lovino said, ignoring Francis's words. "You were always quick to bid, and your counter-bids were higher than what was expected. You were desperate to get a hold of that servant."

"And then he ended up dead," Marcello said.

"And you think, due to my willingness to spend so much money on him, I would kill him? Is that what this is about?"

"I've heard about your family's reputation," Lovino said. "How you're never shy to bed anyone, regardless of age, or gender, or class. You must have thought that he was attractive, then you tried to force him to obey you, and when he wouldn't go along, you killed him."

"Those are nothing more than unflattering rumours. Although, you're right about one thing. Love is love, regardless of all those things you mentioned. But loving someone and wanting to bed them are different things. And that was not my intention with my bids."

"Really?" Jason sneered. "Then why did you do it? I mean, you should know how fucked up that is."

"It's a complicated affair, and I highly doubt that any of you would understand."

"Try us," Alfred said. "Or is it just an excuse for you to buy someone like a thing?"

Francis glared at him for a few tense moments. Finally, he sighed.

"Vash, could you please bring me more wine?" Francis said. "I don't care much about what kind, just that it's wine."

"O-of course, sir," the young man behind Francis said, before he rushed off to the far side of the room, where many bottles and glasses were waiting.

"Papa, what is this about?" Camille asked. "You are usually so particular with your wine."

"When I want to enjoy it, of course," Francis said. "However, this has nothing to do with enjoyment."

Vash returned with a bottle and a glass, and he quickly filled the glass. Francis accepted the glass, and swallowed about half of it immediately.

"He's always been the dramatic type," Lovino said, rolling his eyes. "He thinks that it makes him look…"

"Tell me, Lovino," Francis interrupted. "Is there anything else you know about my family?"

"Just that you have no shame."

"So, you've never heard about what happened to my son?"

Lovino looked struck. His eyes shifted to Camille, who frowned as she looked at her father, but there was a look of concern in her eyes. Jason and Alfred just shared confused looks.

"I see," Francis said, his mouth twitching. "So, either Romulus didn't hear about it either, or he didn't tell you."

"What does your son have to do with anything?" Marcello asked.

"When he was only a year old, he was kidnapped for ransom. My wife and I paid, but he was never returned to us. We thought the worst. My wife was pregnant with Camille at the time, but it was difficult for her. When she gave birth a few weeks later, she just… gave up."

"That's rough," Alfred said. "Um… Sorry to hear that. But…"

"Soon after his disappearance, his nanny resigned," Francis continued. "It didn't take long for us to realise that it was no coincidence. We tried to track her down, but she had fled. It took me years to find her. And when I did… She admitted that she took my son, and that her accomplice had left her, taking most of the money."

"Serves her right," Jason said.

"Did you at least find out what happened to your son?" Marcello asked.

"She took care of him for a few years," Francis said, "but realised that it was too expensive to care for a child. And so she sold him to traffickers."

"And you started to worm your way into those circles," Lovino said, his voice less harsh. "You were hoping to find him at some point."

"Exactly. Unfortunately, I needed some credibility, so… I purchased Vash and Lili here. I realised that they were siblings and most likely would have been separated."

"You told them that you wanted a matching set," Vash said. "I hate the fact that they thought it was convincing."

"I would occasionally place a bid or two, just to retain my credibility. And fortunately, I was able to discuss other, more ethical business matters with many of the clients of this barbaric practice. And occasionally, they held private auctions to dispose of unwanted slaves. For years, this had been my best hope. I had gone to their houses for other business matters, and have tried to look at the slaves – or servants – many times, but even under normal circumstances, servants weren't allowed to be seen, especially by guests."

"And what about these two now?" Alfred asked. "Are they still your slaves, or…?"

"They have proper wages. And they are allowed to leave, though they don't have anywhere else to go."

"Unlike with many others with our background, 'servant' isn't just a euphemism," Vash said.

"Mister Francis took care of us for years," Lili said. "We owe him so much."

"And what happened that night?" Jason asked. "Why were you actually trying to win the auction?"

Francis took a gulp of the wine, and refilled his glass before Vash even had time to reach for it.

"I recognise my silky blond hair anywhere," Francis said. "He also had my eyes, he was the right age, had the same name. He even had the same errant curl that he had as a baby."

"Wait a minute," Lovino said, his eyes widening. "Are you saying…?"

Jason's jaw dropped as he came to the same conclusion that Lovino most likely came to as well.

"The young man on auction that night, the one that Romulus was so desperate to get rid of… was my son," Francis said. "After seventeen years, I had finally found him."