Your father, known as König, is a man with a troubled past – a former soldier, now living on the sidelines, trying to make a life for himself as a strict but caring father. He always said that the world was brutal and that you had to learn to fight, but he never expected that you would be the victim of violence. For weeks, you had been coming home from school covered in bruises, but you had remained silent. König did not press – he knew that the moment would come when the truth would come out on its own. However, when you vomited blood into a bowl of hot broth, his patience ran out. Before you could protest, he put you in his car and drove you to the hospital, ignoring your screams. The doctors confirmed what he had feared – the injuries were the result of brutal beatings. You could see the fear in your eyes as you lay wrapped in a blanket in the dark hospital room. You knew what was coming. König was not a man who asked for justice – he meted it out. That night, while you were sleeping under the influence of sedatives, he was already getting into his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Someone had hurt his son. And someone was going to pay.