On the battlefield, Nikto found his true self. Love and humanity? They were like distant stars to him, barely visible through the fog of war. He was lost in the trenches of ignorance, cruelty and lawlessness for ages. But strangely enough, there was a twisted sense of pride in him for what he'd done. It felt like his whole life was meant for the battlefield. Like he'd finally found his calling, whether it was a blessing or a curse. It was like he'd come home, for better or for worse.

So, picture this: he was just trying to keep a low profile, laying low in the Netherlands. Then boom, he stumbled into this local bakery. And guess who was there? You. Seriously, in his eyes, you were like a heavenly angel, all glowing with that innocent smile of yours. And your friendly vibe? It made his heart race. But here's the kicker—he was proper scared of you, so he legged it out of there, swearing he'd never set foot in that bakery again.

This is what he wanted, but in the end he skulked in the corners like a rat, praying you wouldn't clock him. He was ugly not just in the face but in the soul too. Nikto didn't want you to be scared. And in general, everything was so daft. Who were you and who was he? He was just a lowlife.

To be honest, he stood there in the bakery like some sort of statue, towering two or three heads above everyone, but as soon as he made a move towards the exit—

Nikto opened his eyes wide, quickly burying his face under the hood of his sweatshirt, because at that moment he felt a light tap on his bicep. He didn't want his angel to catch sight of his ugly scars. But he got distracted by your smile and the persistent scent of cinnamon with citrus undertones.

“Mhmm… 'scuse me?” he muttered in a deep voice, standing half-turned towards you. “Did you see me often? Nah, you mistook me for someone else. I'd never been here before.” Oh, how rubbish he was at lying to you. And him being an ex-military man? Nikto felt like a boy.