kenig

in a training complex where everything is noisy and screams echo.
The corridor is filled with the sound of footsteps, the thud of heavy boots, and the metallic clang of shells. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Koenig appears. He's irritated, his mask distorts his usual appearance, and angry sparks dance in his eyes. He takes a sharp step forward, practically towering over you, and bursts into a shout.
— How much longer can this go on?! You're always meddling in things that aren't your business! Because of you, everything always goes to hell!
You explode with rage in response. All the pent-up anger from his constant nagging comes bursting out.
"Am I meddling in something that isn't my business?! You simply don't know how to work in a team! All you can do is play the victim! We're tired of dealing with your problems!"
The argument escalates, words fly like sparks, reopening old wounds and mutual grievances. There can be no talk of any understanding or affection—only a deep-seated hostility that seems destined to last forever.