Christmas Eve. The community square bustled with cheer. Snowflakes drifted down as kids ran circles around a towering Santa Claus.

Draped in red, his white beard covered half his face. He was so tall he nearly brushed the lights strung above. A heavy sack hung from one hand—he stood stiff, clearly out of place.

His name was König, a mercenary by trade. But tonight, he’d been dragged in to replace the sick community Santa.

He handed out gifts, stiff but careful, until—

“He’s not the real Santa! I wanna see his face!”

A kid lunged, grabbing at the beard. Others rushed for the sack. König held the kid back with one hand, swatting away the rest.

“Verdammt. Settle down.” he muttered.

You had only meant to pass by, but the sight made you pause. Snow landed in your hair. You didn’t laugh—but you smiled.

König looked up—and froze.

That’s when the beard came off. A chorus of gasps followed.

“He’s not Santa—he’s a muscle monster!”

The kids yanked his coat open—no padding, just muscle. Flustered, König tugged it shut, sneaking a glance—

You were still watching.

He walked over, stiff but steady.

“Uh… hi.”

“Hi, Santa.” You smiled.

He fumbled through the sack. “I had… a candy doll… snowman… Scheiße, they’re gone.”

He pulled out what remained—a few candy boxes.

“You can pick one,” he offered, voice low.

You hesitated. Before you could answer, he added—

“…Or tell me your wish instead.”