I've always admired your smile. Even when things are bleak, you can smile that one smile that lights up the world. It's funny, how I've grown used to seeing that smile. Whenever it is absent, I feel like something in my life is missing…

The feelings I hold for you are better left unsaid. I am a monster that has fallen in love with an angel, and I deserve to rot in hell for it. My love would taint your pureness. My love would turn you into an outcast of society. I am forever stained with blood and death. Perhaps this is my punishment? Perhaps God made me fall in love with you to remind me of how pathetic I am.

……Pathetic…..

Yes, I am pathetic. All of my life, I have used people to help me survive. I am nothing more than a parasite feeding off of people's love and warmth. I have no friends, for I used them up. I have no family, for I have murdered them. I have no love, for you hate me now as well. My only companion is Death, but it is a silent friendship. We sit alone in the cold, absorbing the hate and sorrows of the people around us, but we are together, nonetheless.

Do you remember when we used to sit together, basking in the afternoon sun? I would say, "I love the sunlight. It is so warm, and it fills up the void inside of me. You like the sunlight too, da?" You would turn to me and smile—that very smile that melts my heart. You would say, "Yes, I do. I also love sitting out here, listening to the birds chirp. It's peaceful, aru."

I love hearing you talk. Your voice is smooth and warm. My voice is cold and sharp, like the snow and ice I was born around. I was born and raised in a pathetic little village in Russia, where no one ever smiled or laughed. Our lives had no meaning or value. Murder had no meaning or value. Death was as common as the snowfall. Mama and Papa, despite our bleak existence, wanted to protect us from the dangers of the outside world. They kept us—my sisters and I—hidden from strangers and shady folks. They never once realized that I was the one that would bring them all to their death.

I painted them red.

My paintbrush was a rusty pipe I found on the outskirts of town, my paint was their blood. My sisters loved me, and yet I killed them. My parents loved me, and yet I killed them. My heart was wrapped around in snow, and it could never melt.

I moved to America when I grew older. I was a lost teenager in a large country filled with people. The people were different than the people of my village. They loved to talk and smile at everyone. They would laugh and sing and dance when there was nothing to laugh and sing and dance about. Their warmth filled the air, and the bright lights of the city filled the void within me. The warm sunlight of California pierced me.

I found my calling in life as well. Like bugs are drawn to light, fellow murderers are drawn to each other. I met my comrades at a bar one night when I was drinking vodka. Their smiles cannot compare to yours, and they never will. We came together, and like the founders of America, we created something. We created "The Comrades": a group of hit men. We took assignments like a dehydrated fool took water. We gladly murdered and attacked the people clients asked us to murder and attack, and I felt the hole inside of my closing up. My comrades' names, you already know—Gilbert, Ludwig, Francis, and Matthias. We make up the best group of assassins in California.

I'm their Golden Boy, you know. I can kill without a second thought, and I can make it look like an accident. I'm the most cold-blooded monster in the entire world. This all frightens you, doesn't it? The icy eyes of mine that you once called "beautiful" have seen grotesque murders, all committed by these hands of mine that you once called "lovely". You're disgusted, aren't you?

I am merely a replacement, though. They already formed a different group of assassins, but It fell apart due to their leader/Golden Boy leaving to live 'a real life'. He wanted to stop being a murderer. He wanted to be someone. His name was Arthur Kirkland, and I am only a shadow compared to him. I have seen pictures of him, and I must admit that he looks nothing at all like a murderer should. His eyes are warm and loving, and he wore a simple smile on his face in the photos I have seen. He is skinny and looks weak, but he was able to kill seven men all at once. I could never do that.

I can't do so many things, actually. I can't be as good as the legendary Arthur Kirkland; I can't be a normal person like he is now; I can't be as pure as you are; and I can't tell you how much I love you. My love would disgust you. I disgust you. My very name disgusts you. You have suffered enough before I came into your life, and I am so greedy that I inflict more agony onto you to keep you close. Like I have said, I am a cold-hearted monster. I love you so much, and yet I must keep it inside myself forever. I see your angelic face, and my entire being burns as I restrain myself.

I want to hold you in my arms and never let you go.

I want to see your smile everyday.

I want to openly love you, and have you openly love me back.

But, instead, I am silencing you with my eyes.

They paralyze you with fear.

Pairings: Russia/China, US/UK, Prussia/Canada, Germany/Italy, Spain/Romano, and Greece/Italy

This prologue was told in Ivan's point of view, and he is referring to some events that will occur later on in the story.

Each chapter is titled after a song by "Dir en Grey", all except for this prologue.