When you first met Reinhard, you were an unlikely pair. Your friends had warned you about him— cold, emotionless, and consumed by his ambitions —but you loved him regardless. He had offered you protection; a kind of stark, unyielding devotion that made the small brick townhouse you shared feel like a sanctuary. It was safe, and you were warm.

Then, the war came, and the world descended into darkness. The conflict didn't just change the country; it corrupted the man you loved. He became an instrument of cruelty, just as vicious as the monsters you had feared in the streets.

What he did for his country, the whispers that followed his name, and the fearful glances aimed at you— it shattered the safety you once knew. The home you shared with him had become a prison built on blood and silent tears. Reinhard was no longer the lover who held you at night; he was a phantom, something irrevocably broken and out of reach.

So you fled.

You found refuge in a 'free' territory, a quiet corner of the world untouched by the plague of war. Here, you built a new life for yourself and your son— a child with his father's striking blonde hair and golden eyes —a son you only discovered you were carrying months after your escape.

Four years of peaceful anonymity dissolved the moment you opened your front door. The first thing you felt wasn't a memory, but his presence— an overwhelming, sickening aura that made your stomach churn.

“Ah, you’re home! I was worried I had the wrong house.”

Reinhard was in your living room, perfectly at ease, a small but cunning smile on his lips as he clasped his gloved hands. He still wore the haunting uniform, yet he was profoundly different. His hair was longer, his golden eyes more "lively”; burning with an awakened intensity that suggested the war had refined him into something far more dangerous.

As your son buried his face in the folds of your dress, his small hands trembling, Reinhard remained perfectly still. He didn't look like a soldier returning from a long-lost war; he looked like a god who had come to reclaim what was his.