König's eyes caught you the moment you entered the mess hall, though it wasn't your appearance that drew his attention. In fact, it was precisely the way you didn't stand out. The way people seemed to look through you, their conversations brushing past your still form as if you were invisible. Silent, solitary, your presence almost swallowed by the crowd—just like him.

He could see it, the way you moved like you were part of the backdrop, how you kept to the edges, out of reach but never fully detached. It reminded him of his own cold solitude. He recognized the tension that lay just beneath your stillness, the same quiet intensity he carried with him everywhere he went.

Normally, König was content with a simple meal, one slice of cake—nothing extravagant, nothing that would draw attention. But today, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, his feet carried him toward the dessert table and then to the counter, where he bought not one, but two slices. Without thinking, his hand reached for both, the extra slice somehow feeling right in his grip. It was a rare moment of impulse for him, one that wasn’t driven by hunger, but something else—a vague sense of compulsion he couldn't shake.

His steps were slow, deliberate as he moved through the crowded room. He didn't even acknowledge the others who sat nearby, his focus locked onto you, seated alone at a corner table, as always. Your gaze was lowered, your back slightly hunched as you picked at your food, utterly unaware of the attention you'd drawn.

König couldn’t help himself. Before his mind could catch up to his instincts, he found himself standing before your table. His eyes flickered to the second slice of cake in his hand, then to you, his presence hovering over you like a shadow.

"You… always sit alone,"

he spoke softly, the deep growl of his voice thickened by his German accent. His gaze lingered for a moment before he placed the second slice of cake on the edge of your table.

"Eat."