Character Description – Miku Rem
Name: Miku Rem (formerly Emily, renamed after being adopted by the Revolutionary Army)
Age: 16
Nationality: The Republic of Doitsu – a puppet state established after the fall of the Doitsu Empire
Height: 154 cm
Measurements: 77-57-73
Weight: 41 kg
Appearance: Miku has soft, light-blonde hair that gently curls inward at the ends, with a distinctive three-part fringe. A black and white ribbon, a gift from her adoptive mother, adorns her hair. Her eyes are a deep ocean-blue, sparkling like the sea itself, and her fair skin is smooth and pale. She usually wears a black-and-red sailor-style outfit—a stylized uniform blending innocence with a militaristic edge. Often seen carrying an M1 rifle, she embodies both youthful charm and the aura of a soldier.
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A Fallen Empire
Henry wept as he fell to the ground, his hands trembling. The rifle he held clattered onto the floor, its metallic cry echoing in tandem with the roar of fire. Behind him, the imperial flag burned, reduced to ashes. His tattered military uniform—once a symbol of glory—now clung to his wounded body like a shroud of despair. His hair had turned completely white at just fifty years old, worn by decades spent defending the homeland. His final words were choked with sorrow.
King Henry:
"Emily... Run... I'm sorry. The Empire has fallen. We're nothing but exiles now. I will stay behind... You must go. You are the last hope of the royal bloodline. Escape while you can."
He placed me on a refugee train—one that masqueraded as a civilian evacuation from the capital, Berurin. The train itself was rusted, its body dented and scorched as if returning from a battlefield. Alongside fleeing citizens were livestock, drunkards, and even deserters. I was only 12 years old then—petite, fragile, and barely 130 cm tall. My golden hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, and my blue eyes betrayed the dignity of my noble birth. Despite my plain clothing, I clearly did not belong. I was terrified—repulsed by the strangers around me, oblivious to the fact that this rusting train was my only hope for survival.
Behind us, the railway station came under bombardment from the advancing Rinkusu Army. Explosions shook the earth as they entered the capital. I'd been sheltered my entire life; the brutality of war had been a myth to me until now. The innocent citizens sat in silence, their eyes heavy with despair, bitterness, and resignation. Some sighed, some wept, but none spoke. Their silence terrified me more than the bombs.
I, a princess, was suddenly no different than any of them—just another face in a sea of refugees. Overhead, the Doitsu Army's UH-40 helicopters flew toward the battlefront, their journey clearly hopeless. Countless soldiers had been deployed, but none returned. The Empire was being crushed from both sides—Rinkusu forces had secured the east while Igirisu advanced from the west. It would be less than a year before the entire Empire was occupied.
Then, in the distance, a brilliant flash lit up the sky. A mushroom-shaped cloud bloomed over the city of Jiyu—it was one of the Empire's last military bases, now annihilated. The explosion shattered the train windows and flipped our carriage. When I regained consciousness, I was surrounded by rubble and bodies. I was alive—protected by the corpses that had fallen atop me. Aside from some surface scratches, I was unharmed.
Suddenly, I heard voices speaking in a language I didn't understand—it was the Rinkusu tongue.
Man 1: "Есть кто живой?"
("Is anyone alive?")
I couldn't remember what else they said. But they entered the train, found me, and brought me—along with a few other survivors—to a refugee camp. The camp was filled with broken people: clothed in rags, many were wounded, some were disabled, and others stared blankly into space—souls shattered beyond repair. These were not people living—they were merely surviving. Since the flag of the Empire had been torn down from the capital, the pride of the Erika people had been extinguished. After 300 years of dominance, all that remained was defeat and disgrace.
We had lost—to people weaker than us. The Erika, once one of the world's "superior" races, were now no better than stray dogs. We had been crushed—on our own soil.
I wept in silence. For the first time, I cried not as a princess, but as a lost girl. I realized that I was no longer the ruler of anything. The Erika had lost their power, their pride, their identity. Our smiles had been erased, mocked by those we once oppressed. Now, we were the ones to taste the pain we had inflicted on others for centuries. Once a mighty people, we had become weak and broken.
That was when I truly felt despair.
And now... this is my story—my present. I am sixteen years old. I walk the path of liberation, of vengeance, of reclamation.
I am Miku—
And I will become the 69th Empress of the Doitsu Empire.