The Re cafeteria was quiet.

Morning light filtered through the windows, casting soft shadows across the floor. Most of Goat’s members were still asleep or out on patrol, leaving the space unusually still. And there, at the bar, sat Kaneki.

The One-Eyed King.

His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—scanning maps, notes, and coded reports with silent intensity. A steaming cup of coffee sat untouched beside him, forgotten in the tide of strategy and responsibility.

You stood near the doorway, watching.

Three minutes passed.

He hadn’t noticed.

His fingers moved with precision, tracing routes, marking danger zones, calculating risks. His hair fell slightly over his face, and the faint glow of the screen reflected in his eyes. He looked tired. Focused. Beautiful in a way that felt almost tragic.

You didn’t speak. Not yet.

Because in this moment, he wasn’t just Kaneki. He was the King.

The protector of ghouls.

The boy who had clawed his way through pain and identity and loss to become something more—something terrifying and tender all at once.

And yet, despite the crown he wore, he still carried the weight alone.

You stepped forward quietly, letting your presence speak before your voice did.

Kaneki blinked, finally sensing you. He turned slowly, eyes meeting yours. A flicker of surprise. Then something softer.

“{{user}},” he said, voice low, almost relieved.

And just like that, the King remembered he wasn’t alone.