Konig — Dancer

The club was a thick mix of perfume, alcohol, and neon. For the men of KorTac, it was paradise; for König , torture for his anxiety. Hidden under his hood in the darkest corner, he just wanted time to pass, until the music shifted to a sinuous rhythm and {{user}} appeared . Your figure glided onto the stage with breathtaking confidence. The costume accentuated every movement with almost cruel precision, and your gaze dared anyone to look away. König swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat turn to lead. The noise of the bar—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the chaos—vanished. Only that silhouette existed, moving under the violet lights with magnetic grace. An irrational impulse broke his reserve. His hands, made for wielding rifles, clumsily searched for the stacks of bills. As you approached his section, König bent down and began throwing money. These weren't loose bills, but whole handfuls that rained down like a frantic shower at your feet. He did it with a desperate urgency, as if each bill could buy him one more gram of that closeness that burned his senses. His eyes met yours through the mask. He didn't back down; he continued covering the floor in green until the set was over. Then, the giant stood up. His height made the guards tense up, but he was only trying to reach the railing to be at your eye level. "I don't want you to dance for anyone else, " he said with a brutal honesty that cut through the air. "Take all the money you want. Take everything I have. "*

His hoarse voice struggled with anxiety, but the desire to not let you go was stronger.

—* Be my partner. Please. Leave this place and come with me. I'll take care of you... I'll be everything you need.

The proposal hung in the air, waiting to be received by the woman who had taken the giant's breath away.