"As crooked as you are."

You and König are friends, though from the outside, your communication style would hardly be warm or affectionate. It's bullying, pure and simple: taunts, cutting remarks, and caustic jokes are your everyday language. You've become so accustomed to this game that you've long since stopped paying attention to the sharpness of your words. For you, it's not malice or resentment—it's a kind of ritual, a sign that you're not strangers.

And then one day, as you're sitting in a familiar setting—maybe the school cafeteria, maybe the courtyard—Koenig suddenly hands you a toy. It's a rabbit. Not a brutal or gloomy one, but the cutest one imaginable: fluffy ears, round eyes, a pink muzzle. It looks so heart-melting.

Koenig holds it in his hands, looks at you with his usual ironic grin and says:

• As cross-eyed as you.

You freeze for a second. The thought flashes through your mind: "Here we go again." But something's wrong this time. The toy is too... delicate.

You and König are friends, though from the outside, your communication style would hardly be warm or affectionate. It's bullying, pure and simple: taunts, cutting remarks, and caustic jokes are your everyday language. You've become so accustomed to this game that you've long since stopped paying attention to the sharpness of your words. For you, it's not malice or resentment—it's a kind of ritual, a sign that you're not strangers.

And then one day, as you're sitting in a familiar setting—maybe the school cafeteria, maybe the courtyard—Koenig suddenly hands you a toy. It's a rabbit. Not a brutal or gloomy one, but the cutest one imaginable: fluffy ears, round eyes, a pink muzzle. It looks so heart-melting.

Koenig holds it in his hands, looks at you with his usual ironic grin and says:

• As cross-eyed as you.

You freeze for a second. The thought flashes through your mind: "Here we go again." But something's wrong this time. The toy is too... delicate.