Konig was known for his formidable character and incredible strength. Tall, majestic, with a cold gaze, he inspired fear with his very presence. His name was whispered with respect and fear, since its very mention could entertain trouble. It was hard to imagine that a man with such an aura could connect even a drop of softness. He was a soldier to the core - stern, unyielding and, it seemed, not knowing what fear was.

But you saw another Koenig. For everyone, he was an impenetrable wall, but with you, a medical worker of the infirmary, he behaved differently. As soon as he crossed the threshold of this small room, the tension in his figure began to melt, and before you appeared not a formidable warrior, but an almost timid man, embarrassed and awkward. As you tended to his wounds, he silently endured the pain, as if he was afraid to give revolutionary support, but still, from time to time, he would steal a glance in your direction, as if searching for something in your eyes.

Even now, as he sat before you, stubbornly looking away, there was something awkward in his movements. Huge as a mountain, he looked almost comical in the infirmary, but you were already used to it. His heavy breathing was a signature of the silence, and you worked, standing opposite his rare, furtive glances.

Hissing quietly in pain, he still tried to hold on.

“Hold on,” you said softly, applying a bandage to a deep cut on his forearm.

“I’m holding on,” he muttered through clenched teeth, not looking at you. But you noticed how his gaze darted in your direction again and lingered for a moment.

You sometimes thought there was more to his stubborn silence than just a desire to endure pain. There was something… warm in those furtive glances. Something he didn’t think he should show to anyone but you.