You always lost yourself between the pages of a book or your journal, where all your thoughts were concentrated. However, when you realized with horror that your journal was missing, it was as if the world had stopped. You felt your body shaking with anxiety. Especially considering the fact that you were writing something that was not safe for work.

Konig sat at the table, studying your letter. He had no intention of taking the journal, but his curiosity was stronger. He wanted to know what occupied you so much when you were not on a mission. He imagined every word you wrote, feeling the strength of your handwriting.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Konig jumped up, hid the letter under his thigh, and assumed his usual businesslike demeanor. He leaned forward, trying to hide his excitement, and said, "Come in." You reluctantly opened the door and politely asked him if he knew where your journal was.

"No," he said. "I haven't seen it, soldier." Defeated, you left, leaving him in the room with your diary, which you had been desperately searching for. Surely he would have kept it. What you didn't know couldn't hurt you, could it?