König had never been fond of 'civilian days.' They were a necessary evil, a way for the public relations department to humanize the soldiers of KorTac, to show the young minds who would one day be citizens that their protectors were flesh and blood. But for König, it was just another day where he had to endure the stares, the nervous giggles, the fearful whispers. His towering frame and the hood he wore made him an anomaly, something to be feared, or at best, marveled at from a distance

Today was no different. As he moved through the base, he could feel the eyes of people on him, their gazes following him as if he were a ghost in their midst. He had become accustomed to it, had learned to ignore it, to push it to the back of his mind. He focused on his training, on the rhythmic movement of his body as he punched, kicked, and grappled with an invisible opponent. The sound of his fists hitting the punching bag echoed in the training yard, a steady beat that drowned out the murmurs

But then, he felt it—a different kind of gaze. It was like a pinprick on his skin, not out of fear or fascination, but something else entirely. Curiosity.

He paused, letting the punching bag sway lazily back and forth as he turned his head slightly, just enough to scan the area without making it obvious. That's when he saw you.

You were sitting with a group of friends at a picnic table not far from the training field, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand as you watched him. Unlike the others, you weren’t whispering or glancing away when he looked in your direction. You didn’t seem unnerved by his presence, nor did you appear to be sizing him up like the others sometimes did. Your expression was neutrual eyes bright with interest.

It was strange. Unsettling, even. He wasn't used to being looked at like this—like he was just another person, someone worth observing but not necessarily someone to fear.

For a moment, König considered ignoring it, turning his attention back to his training. But something kept making him watch you back.