Since the day you met König — or rather, the day he pulled you out of that concrete trap — you hadn’t been able to forget him. His movements were too precise, silent, almost inhumanly calm. His eyes beneath the heavy helmet reflected no light — not even a trace of warmth.

You weren’t afraid of him, even though others avoided him. Maybe it was because he never looked at you like prey. There was no hunger in his gaze — only quiet observation.

Over time, you began to notice strange things. He never took off his mask around others. You’d never seen him without his uniform. You tried to figure out who — or what — he really was.

And then, one day, he let you come closer. Without a word, without warning — he slowly lifted the cloth. There was no face beneath the mask. Only tendrils, shifting and writhing in cold darkness.

One of them reached toward your face.