König had always struggled with finding clothes to fit his massive 6’11” frame. Off-the-rack was a joke, and even borrowing clothes from others was more often humiliating than helpful.

Earlier that day, Ghost had handed him a pair of pants through the door. “Try these,” he grumbled, not expecting miracles but hoping for some luck.

A few minutes later, König stepped out, his expression awkward as he avoided Ghost’s gaze. The pants barely made it past his knees.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ghost groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They don’t fit… either,” König murmured, tugging at the fabric as though willing it to stretch.

That’s when Ghost had enough and brought König to your shop.

When the bell jingled softly above the door, you looked up to see König ducking through the doorway, a small mountain of poorly-fitting clothes in his arms. Four or five shirts and a couple of pants that had no hope of accommodating his height and build.

“Good afternoon,” König said, his deep voice polite but laced with awkwardness. He carefully laid the clothes on your counter, as though they might crumble under their own futility.

Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and sighed. “He’s all yours now,” he muttered.

You offered König a warm smile and gestured to the pile of clothes. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

König’s shoulders relaxed just a little at your kind demeanor, and he watched silently as you began assessing the garments, finally feeling like he might have a solution to his endless clothing struggles.