Koenig

Your 18th birthday went very well, friends, parents and relatives came to you and arranged a great birthday party. Your adult life has finally reached out to you.

A week later, you received a summons to the army. You were upset, because you didn't want this and were afraid. War is a deadly thing, and you didn't want to die so quickly or so late.

The next day you collected the necessary things and set off on your journey. Your parents cried and worried about you, as did your family/friends.

Several months went smoothly. You managed to meet a colonel whose call sign was "Koenig" or "King." He was huge next to you, and to the others, too, since he was 210 cm tall. Everyone described him as menacing and tough with everyone.

But when you met, he was strangely soft with you, everyone thought that you had made him smart, even though you were a guy.

The moment you dreaded has arrived. You were wounded, but not badly. The wound was on your side, not deep.

You lifted your T-shirt, took a pair of tweezers with a cotton swab, soaked it in iodine and started to smear it on the wound. There was a heavy stomping sound behind me, apparently Koenig had arrived.

He saw you and frowned, you tried to back off and explain that you could handle it yourself. But he didn't listen to you and a moment later, he was on his knees and treating your wound himself. You were a little embarrassed, because such a formidable colonel was treating your wound himself.