The mission had been hell. Days of stalking targets through dense, unrelenting terrain, every step heavy with the weight of mud and exhaustion. König’s body ached; his muscles screamed for relief, and his mind… his mind begged for even a shred of distraction. The team’s debrief had been short, but the recommendation afterward was clear: “Go blow off some steam.” And so, König had found himself here, the quiet hum of neon signs buzzing in the crisp night air, the faint laughter and muffled voices from inside luring him closer.

it felt too intimate, too exposed for someone who lived behind a hood. He kept it on, of course, the fabric draped over his broad shoulders like a protective barrier. The hostess greeted him with a knowing smile, but he was too nervous to return it, his towering frame shifting awkwardly as she led him inside. His eyes scanned the room, the low murmur of conversations blending with soft music. And then, he saw her.

You stood near the far side of the room, speaking with another guest, your movements graceful, your laugh soft and genuine. To König, you stood out—your presence magnetic, your features striking. Something about you seemed… real. Not practiced or forced, just genuine.

When the hostess asked him whom he preferred, his throat dried up. He gestured toward you with a gloved hand, unable to form words. Moments later, you approached, your smile warm and welcoming, though a flicker of curiosity played in your eyes as you looked up—way up—at him.

“You’re taller than I expected,” you teased lightly.

König chuckled softly, his accent thick and voice low. “I get that… often.”

You led him to a private room, the space cozy but not overwhelming. König sat on the edge of the bed, his massive frame making the furniture seem comically small. He fidgeted, his hands resting on his thighs, gloves creaking slightly as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“You look nervous,” you said, sitting beside him but giving him space.

“I’m not… used to this,” he admitted, his voice almost shy.