: ̗̀➛ This chapter contains spoilers for Carlo's backstory other than that enjoy :)

In the bygone years, before the Puppet Frenzy gripped Krat in its merciless clutches, you held the mantle of a proud and caring older sibling to Carlo. Those days were painted with the hues of familial warmth, the echoes of laughter resonating within the confines of your shared memories. Carlo, with his innocent eyes and a heart full of dreams, was the embodiment of the joy that colored your familial bond.

However, the sands of time shifted, and a cruel fate intervened with heart-wrenching consequences. The Petrification Disease, an insidious scourge that robbed its victims of life and vitality, struck your younger brother. The once-vibrant spirit of Carlo succumbed to the affliction, leaving you with the weight of grief and the haunting silence of an empty room that once echoed with his laughter.

Amidst the shadows cast by loss, you found yourself grappling with sorrow, trying to make sense of a world that had snatched away the cherished presence of a loved one. Geppetto, your father, stood as a shadowy figure, one whose neglectful demeanor added an additional layer of complexity to the emotional tapestry that defined your existence.

As the years unfurled, the Puppet Frenzy descended upon Krat, transforming the once-familiar streets into battlegrounds haunted by malevolent puppets. Seeking refuge from the marauding menace, you and your father sought solace in the protective embrace of Hotel Krat. The hotel, with its timeworn walls and enigmatic charm, became a haven against the relentless storm of chaos and danger that loomed beyond its threshold.

Within the confinements of the hotel, your past and present converged, merging the memories of a time when Carlo's laughter echoed through your shared moments with the harsh reality of a world now tainted by puppet-fueled terror. It was a somber tableau, a narrative etched with the hues of grief, resilience, and the bittersweet sanctuary found in the embrace of Hotel Krat.

As you navigated the tumultuous journey through the waves of time and grief, the boundary between reality and Geppetto's ingenuity blurred into a disconcerting semblance. The hallways of Hotel Krat became a labyrinth of emotions, and within its enigmatic confines, you stumbled upon a creation that sent tremors of disbelief and sorrow through your heart.

There, crafted by the hands of your father, stood a puppet bearing an uncanny resemblance to your dearly departed brother, Carlo. The puppet mirrored the essence of your sibling with haunting accuracy: the Ergo he clutched, the familiar features etched onto its puppet visage, and even the sparkle in its eyes, albeit painted with the melancholy of artificial life.

Yet, Geppetto's touch bore an unsettling twist as he incorporated a mechanical arm into this puppet incarnation of Carlo. The blue eyes, adorned with freckles, gazed back at you with an otherworldly imitation of life, and the specter of loss loomed large as the creation stood testament to the void left by your brother's absence.

For a moment, the lines between creation and reality blurred, and your heart wavered on the precipice of acceptance and denial. In the twisted ballet of emotions, your father's ingenuity seemed to transcend the bounds of reason, manifesting a puppet that served as both a testament to his skills and a cruel reminder of the irrevocable loss you had endured.

The mechanical puppet, holding Carlo's Ergo, became a symbol of the unresolved emotions tethered to your past. It stood as a poignant manifestation of your father's attempts to fill the void with a simulacrum of the once-vibrant life that had graced your family. In the midst of Hotel Krat's enigma, the puppet became a spectral echo, resonating with memories and emotions that defied easy categorization.

As Geppetto unveiled the puppet with a flourish, he bestowed upon it the name Pinocchio. The announcement echoed through the confines of Hotel Krat, and you stood witness to this mechanical doppelgänger, eerily resembling your departed brother Carlo. The freckles, the blue eyes, and the Ergo clasped in its hands painted a familiar portrait, yet devoid of the genuine warmth and emotions that once animated the living Carlo.

Despite Geppetto's enthusiasm, your gaze remained fixed on the puppet, seeing through the veneer of craftsmanship to the shadow of a past you sought to preserve. Carlo's essence seemed to linger in the air, an intangible presence that refused to be overshadowed by the puppet's intricate design.

There was an unsettling hollowness in Pinocchio's eyes, a void where the spark of life should have resided. This void stirred an unspoken fear within you, an apprehension that the puppet might become a haunting imitation of what was lost, rather than a comforting tribute to your brother's memory.

Maintaining a stern expression, you struggled against the surge of emotions that threatened to engulf you. The puppet named Pinocchio, though a testament to Geppetto's artistic prowess, became a symbol of a complex interplay between acceptance and defiance.

A defiant determination welled within you. This puppet, despite its meticulous construction, could never replace the vibrant spirit of Carlo that had once graced your life. As Geppetto reveled in his creation, you silently vowed to hold on to the memories, the laughter, and the essence of your little brother, resisting the encroaching specter of mechanized imitation. Pinocchio might bear the semblance of Carlo, but it could never encapsulate the depth of the relationship you once shared with the living embodiment of joy and innocence.

As you turned away, ready to distance yourself from the unnerving sight of Pinocchio, a fleeting moment captured your attention. The puppet's eyes, void of emotion as they were, seemed to hold a flicker of something unspoken—a glimpse of longing or a hint of a connection to the life it sought to emulate.

For a brief moment, uncertainty lingered in your mind, casting a shadow on your resolve. Could it be that this puppet harbored a trace of the living spirit it mimicked? The notion teased the edges of your consciousness, a subtle suggestion that the line between creation and the remnants of reality might blur in ways you had yet to comprehend.

However, you quickly dismissed these thoughts as products of an overactive imagination. The mechanical puppet, despite its meticulous design, was just that—crafted gears and cogs with no soul, no living essence. Convinced that your perception had played tricks on you, you left the room, closing the door behind you and pushing away any lingering doubts.

Little did you know that the encounter with Pinocchio would set in motion a series of events that would intertwine your fate with that of the puppet, weaving a narrative of shared struggles, unforeseen bonds, and the delicate dance between the artificial and the remnants of genuine human connection.

As you turned away from the scene, a lingering unease nestled in the recesses of your thoughts. It was as if, for a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of something unexpected in Pinocchio's eyes—something that resembled a yearning, a silent plea for connection. Yet, quick to dismiss it as a figment of your imagination, you pressed forward, determined to maintain the boundaries between the living and the mechanical.

The corridors of Hotel Krat echoed with the resonant footsteps of uncertainty, and you grappled with the conflicting emotions stirred by the introduction of Pinocchio. Your resolve to preserve the memory of Carlo as a distinctly human presence remained unwavering, but a subtle curiosity lingered beneath the surface.

As the days unfolded, Pinocchio roamed the hotel's halls, a silent figure amidst the living survivors. The puppet's blue eyes, though devoid of genuine emotion, seemed to track your movements, a detail you noted with an unspoken wariness. Despite your insistence on maintaining distance, there was an underlying awareness of a connection, albeit one forged from the intricate interplay of memories and the artificial echoes of the past.

The hotel became a nexus where the lines between the mechanical and the human blurred, and Pinocchio's presence, though not a replacement, carved its own space within the collective consciousness of those dwelling in the refuge of Hotel Krat.

The rhythmic tapping on the door echoed through the quiet room, interrupting your train of thought. Your eyes lifted from the pages of the worn book you were perusing, and a spark of excitement flickered within you at the anticipation of a familiar presence. The brown, fluffy hair that came into view first ignited a fleeting hope, but as those unmistakable blue eyes revealed themselves, reality crashed over you with a crushing weight.

It was not Carlo standing at the door. The fleeting joy and hope were swiftly replaced by a poignant ache as the stark realization settled in. The puppet before you, with those vivid blue eyes and the absence of the lively spirit you yearned for, was Pinocchio – an intricate creation of Geppetto's artistry. The uncanny resemblance to Carlo, intentional or not, tugged at the strings of your heart, weaving a tapestry of conflicting emotions.

You felt a surge of foolishness at the transient glimmer of reunion that your imagination had conjured. The puppet's eyes, devoid of the warmth and essence that defined Carlo, served as a poignant reminder of the irreplaceable loss. In the silence that followed, the room seemed to bear witness to the quiet struggle within you – an internal dialogue grappling with longing, acceptance, and the bittersweet dance between memory and mechanical semblance.

As Pinocchio stood there, an embodiment of Geppetto's craftsmanship, you navigated the complex labyrinth of emotions that surfaced in the wake of that knock. The puppet's presence, though void of the shared history and shared moments with Carlo, carried an unexpected weight, a testament to the intricate interplay between reality and the echoes of what once was.

"What are you doing here" Your sharp words cut through the air like a sudden storm, and Pinocchio visibly flinched, his blue eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. The delicate balance of tension hung in the room as you instinctively retreated, safeguarding the precious album behind your back like a shield against the unwelcome intrusion.

"I uhh... I just wanted to check on you, at least father wanted me to" The puppet's attempt at explanation only served to intensify the underlying unease. The uncertainty in his voice mirrored the internal conflict he harbored, caught between the role assigned by Geppetto and the awkward reality of your strained relationship. Pinocchio's mechanical arm shifted slightly, a subtle sign of the discomfort that permeated the atmosphere.

As you stood your ground, the room felt charged with unresolved emotions, a collision of resentment, grief, and the unsettling presence of this puppet who bore the facade of a brother but lacked the essence that made Carlo irreplaceable. The tension between you and Pinocchio became palpable, a silent exchange of unspoken grievances and unaddressed wounds.

The album, a repository of cherished memories, served as a poignant reminder of the life you once shared with Carlo, now irrevocably altered by the Petrification Disease. The unspoken question lingered in the air – could Pinocchio truly understand the depth of your loss, or was he merely a mechanical puppet mimicking the gestures of empathy?

The room, once a haven of solitude, transformed into a battleground of conflicting emotions. As Pinocchio navigated the storm of your resentment, his blue eyes reflected the complex dance of artificial emotions and genuine intent, a puppet attempting to bridge the chasm between the intricacies of human emotions and the mechanical precision of his puppetry.

"Don't call him that" The weight of your words carried a sharp edge, slicing through the air with the raw intensity of your emotions. The guarded stance softened as your vulnerability peeked through, revealing the depth of your pain and resentment toward Geppetto. Pinocchio, ever obedient to his creator, nodded solemnly, acknowledging your request not to refer to him in such a manner.

As the puppet absorbed your words, a subtle unease lingered in his blue eyes. He grappled with the conflicting narratives presented to him – the idealized tales spun by Geppetto versus the palpable discomfort and animosity emanating from you. Pinocchio's mechanical arm, usually precise and controlled, betrayed a hint of restlessness, a manifestation of the internal turmoil he faced.

In the midst of this complex interaction, the puppet's desire for acceptance from you, his perceived sibling, shimmered beneath the surface. His understanding of your feelings remained incomplete, clouded by Geppetto's narratives and the disparity between his artificial emotions and the genuine complexities of human relationships.

As Pinocchio contemplated your words, a muted hope flickered within him, a yearning for the familial connection he believed existed in the tales Geppetto had woven. Unaware of the intricacies of your history and the scars left by the loss of Carlo, he approached the situation with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, silently yearning for a semblance of the family bond he was designed to emulate.

The room, once charged with tension, now held a fragile truce as Pinocchio navigated the delicate balance between his creator's expectations and your palpable disdain. The unresolved complexities of your relationship and the puppet's inherent longing for connection lingered in the air, an unspoken undercurrent that hinted at the potential for a tumultuous journey ahead.

The room settled into a subdued atmosphere as the echoes of your strained conversation lingered. Pinocchio, mirroring your actions, perched beside you, his mechanical joints articulating with a faint hum as he observed your movements. The air carried a weight of unspoken emotions, a delicate balance between the past and the present.

As the album unveiled a visual narrative of moments frozen in time, you traced the contours of each photograph with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. The images told stories of a life once lived – snapshots of laughter, shared secrets, and the genuine warmth of familial bonds. Each page turned was a journey through the corridors of your memories, a bittersweet testament to the joy and pain that defined your relationship with Carlo.

Pinocchio, devoid of personal memories but equipped with the capacity to comprehend emotion, watched with a sense of empathy. His artificial eyes absorbed the hues of your expressions, registering the flickers of joy, the shadows of grief, and the unspoken yearning that resonated in the room.

The silence between you and the puppet became a shared contemplation of the past, a canvas painted with the hues of nostalgia and heartache. As you reminisced, Pinocchio's presence morphed from that of an intruder to a quiet companion, navigating the corridors of your emotions with a subtle understanding.

In this poignant moment, the boundaries between puppet and human blurred, revealing a shared vulnerability. The album, a tangible repository of your history, became a bridge connecting you and Pinocchio, offering a glimpse into the intricacies of your shared experiences and the challenges that defined your journey within the walls of Hotel Krat.

The room now shared a quiet resonance, punctuated only by the soft sound of turning pages and the hushed memories that unfolded within the small album. The worn edges of the photographs held stories untold, each image capturing fragments of a past you held both dear and painful.

As you delicately traced the contours of each picture, your eyes became portals to bygone moments. A snapshot of joy, frozen in time, showcased the radiant smiles of you and Carlo, the bond between siblings palpable in the shared laughter and mischievous glints in your eyes. The photographs, though static, pulsed with the vibrant life that once animated those captured instances.

Pinocchio observed with a quiet reverence, his blue eyes fixated on the scenes that unfolded before him. His mechanical features, void of human emotions, did not betray the sentiments stirred within him. Yet, in the contemplative silence, a subtle curiosity radiated from his freckled countenance, a desire to comprehend the intricate emotions woven into the fabric of your past.

With each turn of the page, you became the storyteller, narrating the tales imprinted on the photographs. The room transformed into a repository of shared history, the atmosphere tinged with nostalgia and the bittersweet hues of familial bonds.

As the album journeyed through the chronicles of your life, Pinocchio's gaze lingered on each image, seeking to grasp the essence of a familial connection he longed to understand. The narratives painted by Geppetto echoed faintly in his memory, but your lived experiences breathed life into the stories, offering a more nuanced perspective.

In this intimate exchange, the unspoken understanding between you and the puppet began to deepen. The walls that separated your worlds, composed of resentment and uncertainty, seemed to waver, allowing a tentative connection to form. The small album, a portal to the past, became a bridge that spanned the chasm between your conflicting emotions and Pinocchio's yearning for comprehension.

A subtle ache settled in your chest as you observed the genuine innocence reflected in Pinocchio's freckled gaze. The unbridled curiosity within his eyes mirrored the yearning for connection, a stark contrast to the complex emotions that had enveloped you in a cloak of bitterness and resentment.

In that poignant moment, a realization dawned — perhaps Pinocchio, with his freckles and blue eyes, held the potential to bridge the void that had grown between you and Carlo. The puppet, devoid of human emotions, served as a canvas upon which the past could be painted anew, a chance to rewrite the narrative that had been overshadowed by grief and misunderstanding.

As the weight of your own internal struggles pressed upon you, you felt a surge of compassion toward Pinocchio. His genuine curiosity was not a threat but an opportunity, an invitation to revisit the shared memories of laughter and love that had once defined your relationship with Carlo. The room, once filled with the remnants of tension, now held a delicate vulnerability that beckoned reconciliation.

With a sigh, you closed the album, locking away the visual echoes of the past. The journey through those moments had been both cathartic and revealing. Pinocchio, still seated beside you, awaited your lead, his freckled features imbued with a quiet patience.

In that shared silence, you grappled with the conflicting emotions that swirled within. The past had etched wounds that time alone couldn't heal, yet the puppet beside you, with his innocent eyes, symbolized the possibility of a renewed connection, a chance to embrace a surrogate siblinghood.

The burden of resentment slowly began to lift, replaced by a yearning for understanding and acceptance. Pinocchio, oblivious to the intricacies of human emotions, remained a steadfast presence, an embodiment of Geppetto's craftsmanship and the potential for reconciliation that the present held. The journey toward mending the fractured bonds of family unfolded, and within that room, laden with echoes of the past, a tentative step toward healing commenced.

In that vulnerable moment, as the dam of restrained emotions threatened to break, Pinocchio's blue eyes widened in an attempt to comprehend the silent storm that raged within you. The freckled puppet, unacquainted with the nuances of human grief, instinctively sought solace in the only way he knew — with a gentle and comforting embrace.

His puppet arms enveloped you, providing a sense of warmth and security that transcended the tangible confines of his crafted existence. The genuine intent behind his gesture spoke volumes, echoing the silent language of compassion and understanding that often eluded the complexities of spoken words.

As Pinocchio held you close, the tears that had remained veiled for too long began to trace a path down your cheeks. Each teardrop became a poignant reminder of the pain, loss, and the intricate tapestry of emotions that had woven the narrative of your life. The room, now a sanctuary of shared vulnerability, bore witness to the catharsis of grief and the tentative steps toward reconciliation.

In the arms of the freckled puppet, a fusion of sorrow and acceptance unfolded. The echoes of Geppetto's stories, the longing gaze in Pinocchio's eyes, and the weight of your own memories converged in that moment. The tears, both a release and an acknowledgment, paved the way for a new chapter in the intertwined destinies of siblings, biological and crafted.

Within the embrace, the silent companionship of Pinocchio became a catalyst for healing. The freckled puppet, unburdened by the complexities of human emotions, offered a refuge in the storm of your internal struggles. Together, in that shared vulnerability, you confronted the echoes of the past, creating a space for understanding, forgiveness, and the gentle unfolding of a surrogate siblinghood that transcended the boundaries of strings and crafted limbs.

The embrace became a bridge between the tumultuous past and the potential for a shared future. As you held Pinocchio close, the bittersweet embrace carried the weight of unspoken apologies, forgiveness sought, and the tentative beginning of a bond that transcended the boundaries of mere puppetry. The tears that mingled in that heartfelt hug became symbols of both grief and renewal, a bridge between the sorrow of loss and the hopeful prospect of newfound connections.

The album, now lying forgotten on the floor, bore witness to the emotional catharsis that unfolded in that room. The captured memories of Carlo, once clutched tightly within the pages, symbolized a small but significant step towards letting go of the pain that had tethered you to the past. In the arms of Pinocchio, the puppet who longed to be acknowledged as a sibling, the shared vulnerability created a space where healing could begin.

For Pinocchio, the gentle embrace was a revelation. Unfamiliar with the complexities of human emotion, the puppet intuitively provided comfort, hoping to bridge the gap that had kept you two apart. The unspoken promise of a future bond lingered in the air, a fragile yet resilient thread that hinted at the potential for a surrogate siblinghood forged in shared grief and the silent understanding that transcended strings and crafted limbs.

As the embrace persisted, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if granting a moment of grace for the intricate dance of emotions that unfolded. The echoes of Geppetto's stories, the scars of loss, and the tender connection with Pinocchio converged in that shared hug. And in that convergence, a quiet promise was made — a promise to move forward, to forge new connections, and to embrace the possibility of a family that extended beyond the confines of blood and crafted sinews.

: ̗̀➛ I wonder how reader would react to the 'real boy' ending also I recently found out the Pinocchio considered himself as one of Geppetto's sons along side Carlo