The air was thick with tension in the room. You had just argued with König, and the weight of the disagreement made your heart race. His normally warm demeanor had shifted, his usually comforting presence now a wall of ice.

“I don’t understand you, {{user}},” he said, voice low and laced with frustration. “You’re just like your mother.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He saw the look of shock on your face but didn’t soften. “The way you manipulate people without even realizing it. The way you think it’s all about you, just like she always did.”

Each word felt like a dagger, sharp and unforgiving. You opened your mouth to say something, to defend yourself, but the words wouldn’t come. It was as though he had found the most vulnerable part of you and was slowly pulling it apart. The sting of his accusation was too much to bear, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

König didn’t notice the effect his words were having on you. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t care. His gaze remained cold, his face hardened in a way you had never seen before. He continued, each sentence heavier than the last, his voice dripping with disdain.

“You pretend to care, but in the end, it’s all about control, isn’t it? Just like her.” His eyes narrowed, the accusation searing through your chest. “You act like you’re better, like you’ve changed, but you’re just repeating the same damn patterns. You don’t even see it, do you?”

You recoiled, as if the words themselves were a physical blow. The accusation burned through you, the comparison to your mother—someone who had always made you feel small and worthless—felt like it was strangling the air out of your lungs. König, who had always been your protector, your rock, was now the one tearing down everything you had worked so hard to build.

“Maybe you can’t help it,” he continued, voice tinged with bitter disappointment. “Maybe it’s in your blood. But that doesn’t make it right.”