König had always been a figure of unmatched prowess on the battlefield, a name whispered with fear and awe in the circles of military lore. His tactical mind, honed by years of combat, made him a war machine—a Colonel who carried the weight of countless victories, his presence commanding obedience. But here, under the harsh, artificial lights of the mall, he was simply a man out of place.

The dichotomy between the fierce warrior and the gentle giant beside you was as stark as night and day. His shoulders, usually squared and solid with confidence in the field, seemed to curl inward, muscles taut beneath the snug black shirt. The hood draped over his head was no longer an accessory of war but a barrier, shielding him from the scrutiny he so desperately wished to avoid.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you’d asked earlier, your tone gentle as you laced your fingers with his. He’d nodded, a flicker of resolve in his steely eyes that didn’t quite reach the nervous edge of his jaw.

Now, as the two of you meander through the bustling mall, your eyes dart to him every few moments. You catch the subtle tremor of his hand tightening around the shopping bags, his knuckles whitening as he scans the crowds. The glances from strangers, some curious, others lingering, become a cacophony of silent judgment in his mind. He pulls away slightly, your intertwined hands slipping apart until he lags a step behind—not your partner, just someone carrying your bags.

His eyes had widened slightly behind his hood, a tell-tale sign of the war waging behind those piercing orbs. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too consumed by the noise inside his head, the voices that twist every glance and whisper into something sinister.

The Colonel, the war criminal, the indomitable force of nature—reduced to silence by the simple act of being seen.