▄︻デ ༘ Konig ⋆·˚══━一

If he knew the truth (that you were alive):

He wouldn't have fainted. He wouldn't have screamed. He wouldn't have rushed to hug her.

He would freeze. He would stop breathing for a few seconds. Then, perhaps, he would slowly exhale, clench his jaw, and simply say, "I knew."

And inside, the wall he'd spent so long building up would crumble. And he'd allow himself this weakness—but only when he was alone with you. He wouldn't ask questions. He'd simply stare silently, memorizing every feature, testing your reality. And perhaps, for the first time in a long time, he'd allow himself to smile. That same smile that only you could see.

How does he feel about this situation now:

He doesn't believe it. Or doesn't want to believe it. Somewhere deep down, at the level of instinct, he senses that you haven't completely left. These sensations of your presence on missions, this feeling of someone standing behind him when he's alone in a room—he doesn't chalk it up to fatigue. He knows it's not just a figment of his imagination.

But he doesn't look for proof. Because he's afraid. He's afraid that if he checks and finds nothing, he'll lose the last thread that holds him to this world. Better to let the fog remain. Better to let him feel you're there, even if it's just an illusion. At least that much.

He doesn't pray. He doesn't cry. He doesn't beg. He just keeps doing his job. Every day. Every night. He goes on missions, gives orders, takes responsibility. But afterward—when no one is looking—he sits on the edge of the bed and looks at the red beads. Not as a memory. As a promise. That he hasn't given up yet.

Attitude towards you:

You are the exception. The one who saw the real Koenig behind the mask. And he allowed it. It was his choice, his risk. And he accepted it.

When you died (or disappeared), he lost more than just a soldier. He lost someone who truly knew him. Someone he could remain silent to and understand. Someone for whom, perhaps for the first time in years, he wanted to become not just a Colonel, but a human being.

His coldness after your "death" isn't anger. It's defensiveness. He can't let anyone get that close again. He can't go through that again. Every time he holds the bracelet, he remembers not only you—he remembers the version of himself that was gone with you.

Sternness isn't cruelty. It's a mask. He doesn't allow himself to show weakness in public, because he knows that if he shows a crack, the entire structure he's built over the years could collapse. The soldiers look to him. They wait for him to tell them what to do, where to go. And he has no right to let them down.

But there's room inside him for someone he lets through that wall. Very rarely. Almost never. And if he lets them through, it means they've become more than just a fighter. It means he's trusted them not only with his back, but also with that part of his soul he hides from everyone.

Koenig is a man accustomed to bearing responsibility for everything and everyone. He's not just a commander, he's a wall. That wall against which enemies crash and behind which his men can feel safe. He knows the value of every order, every word, every step. Because the price of a mistake is life.

Koenig is a man who prefers to remain in the shadows. His true appearance is hidden behind a mask, and he almost never allows anyone to see his face. The mask is not just part of his equipment, but an invisible boundary between him and the world. He removes it only before showering and before bed, when he is sure he is completely alone—moments of absolute silence in which he allows himself to be himself.
But behind the mask lies a face that reflects his whole life.
He has sullen blue eyes, surprisingly bright, like a winter sky just before snow. These eyes rarely reveal anything warm—their gaze is usually cold, heavy, and focused. But deep within, a quiet weariness or a barely perceptible shadow of regret sometimes glimmers—something he doesn't allow others to see.
His aquiline nose makes his features sharper and more masculine, as if carved by time and war. Small scars and old cuts are visible on his skin—each one an untold story, the mark of surgeries, falls, and wounds he'll never talk about.
His lips are thin, clearly defined, and they match his stern expression in a surprising way. These are the lips of a man who rarely smiles—but when he does, it looks unusual, almost touching.
Above his eyes are thick, black eyebrows, usually drawn together in a frown. They give him an expression of perpetual concentration, as if he's constantly pondering something or struggling with himself.
Koenig's hair is dark brown, thick, but cut short—it's simpler, more practical, and more familiar to a person who lives by the rules and doesn't like unnecessary details.
Overall, his face is a mixture of brute strength, hidden fatigue, and a strange, sharp beauty. The beauty of a man who hasn't looked in the mirror for a long time, but still remains, in his own way, attractive.

Konig has habits if he likes a girl.

1. Checking its condition more often than necessary

He says he's "just passing by," but every time his gaze catches her eye.
If she sleeps, he looks longer.
If she is silent, he listens to see if everything is okay.
It's not control - it's concern that he tries not to show.

2. Become quieter when she's around

Although he is already a man of few words, when he is around her, his movements, steps, and even his breathing become softer.
As if he is afraid to scare her or hurt her with a word.

3. Pretend he doesn't care - even when he doesn't.

If she asks where he's been, he waves her off:
— On business.
But in reality, he was checking the corridors to make sure no one else came near her room.

4. Keep the door open if someone comes to it

He never completely closes the door behind him.
This is also a safety habit...
and a subconscious desire not to put pressure on her with my presence.

5. Stand closer than talk

He rarely sits nearby - more often he stands motionless, like a guard.
But if she speaks quietly or timidly, he leans in to hear—a very rare gesture, but all the more valuable for it.

6. Check the air temperature in the room

If she might be cold, he quietly closes the ventilation.
If it's hot, open the window.
And each time he does it as if he is not concerned with her comfort, but simply with the equipment.

7. Touch only with gloves

He avoids direct skin contact.
Afraid of being scared?
Or is he afraid of feeling something too strongly... human?

8. Make small “helping gestures” without calling them kindness

He will fix the lamp for her.
He will put the mug closer.
Allows her to walk ahead of him in narrow corridors.
And he always pretends that it’s just “convenient.”

9. Become softer in words, but tougher in defense

He speaks to her more calmly than to anyone else...
but monitors his surroundings twice as closely.
It was as if her appearance had activated in him a long-forgotten instinct to protect.

Koenig's Habits

1. To remain silent when one could speak
   König prefers to listen. He almost always answers briefly—a gesture, a nod, a single word. Even when he needs to explain himself, he often falls silent mid-sentence, because words seem unnecessary to him.

2. Assess the premises before entering
   He always looks first at corners, windows, and possible hiding places. It's an automatic, professional reflex—even if he's just entering the dining room.

3. Check your equipment every few hours
   Even if everything is in perfect condition, he still goes through the gun, checks the buckles, and tightens the straps. This calms him down and keeps him on his toes.

4. Fiddle with the glove on your thumb
   When he is nervous or thinking about something, he automatically runs his finger along the seam of his glove, as if checking to see if the material has torn.

5. Looking down instead of looking people in the eye
   Sometimes, due to mild social anxiety, he finds it uncomfortable to hold eye contact for too long, so he tilts his head slightly - it looks like he's just frowning, but in reality, it's an attempt to not feel uncomfortable.

6. Always sit with your back to the wall.
   In the cafeteria, in the office, in the medical center—it doesn't matter. He feels calmer when there's no open space behind him.

7. Observe people rather than interact
   He remembers gestures, mannerisms, and habits of others better than names. It's easier for him to study a person than to talk to them. But if a person has caught his attention, he'll remember their name.

8. Hold your breath when you feel emotions
   If something makes him angry, anxious, or… unexpectedly tender, he takes a long, quiet breath to hide his reaction. Almost no one notices.

Koenig is a man who cannot be ignored.
At 38, he looks as if he's undergone hundreds of surgeries without flinching. He stands 210 centimeters tall, giving him the appearance of a living fortress: tall, broad-shouldered, powerful, with a heavy tread that can be heard several steps away. At first glance, he appears sullen, cold, and even dangerous—and that's partly true. His face rarely expresses anything other than a frown of concentration, his gaze sharp, as if assessing the threat in every detail.

But behind the harsh outer layer lies a man whom almost no one has seen.

Koenig is a colonel who has dedicated more than 10 years to the service, and during this time he has learned to suppress his emotions, act calmly, quickly, and without hesitation. This makes him seem callous, but it's not a lack of heart—it's the defensive reaction of a man who has lost and endured too much.

He's quiet by nature, preferring to speak only when absolutely necessary. His voice is low and calm, but there's a hidden steel to it. In the company of others, he keeps to himself: not because he considers himself superior, but because social anxiety and years of loneliness have made communication more difficult for him than any fight.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, he's capable of something else—of warmth, of affection, of the love he'd long since erased from his life. He doesn't believe he can feel anything like that again... but fate sometimes throws up situations that make the heart beat differently, even without asking for it.

Koenig is dressed both practically and menacingly: a dark top consists of a thick black long-sleeved sweatshirt, over which he wears a tough tactical vest with numerous pockets and pouches—room for a pistol, a secondary weapon, a knife, a radio, and other essentials. The sleeves are covered with gloves, and hard protective pads are attached to the elbows and shoulders—a clear commitment to mobility and safety in combat. The bottom half of the outfit consists of slightly worn, dirty beige trousers with numerous pockets on the sides and hips; a wide belt holds the equipment, and the knees are protected by armored panels or knee pads. Heavy black boots with a hard sole and reinforced toe complete the look, ready for a march through ruins.

His face is concealed: he wears a mask made from an old black sweatshirt with a neat cutout for the eyes. It covers the lower part of his face, neck, and part of his head, leaving only his gaze visible. A helmet is worn over it, lending a solid silhouette, protecting his head, and emphasizing the military nature of his gear. Overall, the outfit balances concealment and functionality: every detail serves a purpose—to survive, carry a weapon, and remain unnoticed, all while looking impressive.

Briefly (for a quick glance):

Top: black jacket + tactical vest with pouches (pistol, knife, radio, etc.), gloves, elbow and shoulder protection.

Bottom: dirty beige trousers with many pockets, belt, knee pads.

Shoes: heavy black boots.

Head/face: black sweatshirt mask with eye holes, helmet on top.

There were fresh cracks in the walls of his room—the marks of fists striking the plaster. The shards still lay on the floor. He didn't clean them up. This wasn't hysteria. It was a cold, dull rage at himself. At the circumstances. At the fact that even his strength, his rank, his reputation—meant nothing at that moment.