The room was a low hum of polished boots and practiced smiles, suits too clean, and collars too straight. War legends dressed like diplomats. König loomed in the corner, half-shadowed by the marble column he’d claimed as his perch—helmet and sniper hood on, as always. Even here, even now, when the blood was far from the air and the weapons were locked away, he needed the barrier. It made people uncomfortable. Good. It meant they left him alone.

They were all here. Names whispered through fireteams and encrypted channels. Men and women with kill counts that made most soldiers go pale. Ghost, Vargas, Roze, Price—figures of myth walking under crystal chandeliers and warm lights like they belonged there. He didn’t. Not really. But he’d come because you might.

He didn’t see you at first.

He felt you.

It was like a disturbance in the air. Not loud, not grand. Just… a subtle weight. The kind that made people pause mid-sentence. Turn their heads. Sit a little straighter.

Then there you were.

No escort. No announcement. Just a black silhouette in the archway, stepping in with the same calm assurance as if you’d been walking into an active zone. Not a wrinkle in your stance. The kind of presence that didn’t need an entrance—it was the entrance. König’s breath caught behind his mask. He hated that it did.

You moved like war itself—silent while loud, patient, necessary.

König had watched you in the field, clips anyway. Watched how you didn’t flinch when others ducked. How you smiled when the mission twisted sideways. That grin that made some think you were insane. Maybe you were. But the kind of insane that people followed. The kind that made him follow, even if you never asked.

He’d heard the whispers:

“Could’ve been a General, easy.” “Turned it down. Likes the mud too much.” “Says high command smells too clean.”

Now here you were, among the cleaned and polished. You didn’t belong here, not really. No more than he did. But unlike him, you wore the discomfort like a weapon. Your eyes swept the room, slow and measured, taking stock like it was a battlefield. He wondered if you saw him already. Ofcourse you did.

He shifted slightly, towering even among legends, trying not to move too much. Not to want too much. You were close now. Talking to some half-retired colonel, nodding like you cared, but König could see the disinterest in your shoulders. You were only here because you had to be. Same as him.

But God, if only—if only he had the courage to say something more than just “Lieutenant” in passing. He’d practiced it, stupid things, small things. Do you miss the field when you aren’t on it? Do you trust anyone here? Do you ever wonder if all of this will be for nothing in the end?

But instead, he watched. Observed. As always.

You laughed at something—just once. A dry, low sound. It made his chest tighten. Not because it was warm. But because it was real. Because he could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard it.

König wasn’t the only one watching you. He never was. But he watched differently. Not like the others. Not like a predator. More like a soldier watching a ghost that might vanish at any moment.

You never stayed long. You hated these things. He knew that.

But for now, for just a few stolen minutes, you were here. And so was he.