Konig

It was around two in the morning when you woke up. It wasn't a normal hunger, but a late-night craving for something sweet—that intense urge for something light, cold, and delicious that no heavy meal could satisfy. You slipped into the shared base kitchen, hoping you wouldn't run into Ghost or Price on their rounds.
You opened the massive fridge, crammed with meats, eggs, and energy drinks. Searching through the back, hidden behind a large jar of pickles and some celery sticks, you caught sight of something unexpected: a plain white tub of ice cream. It felt like finding buried treasure.
You hesitated. It wasn't like you to take something that wasn't yours. But your mind rationalized it: "It's just one tub of ice cream. I'll wake up early, buy an exact replacement, and put it back before anyone notices." Driven by your craving, you took it, ate half of it, and placed it back carefully.
Morning came, bringing with it drills, briefings, and reports. Buying the ice cream slipped your mind completely, buried under the chaotic noise of the military base.
By lunchtime, you were wrapping up a report in your office when a loud, shocked cry pierced through the hallway coming from the kitchen. It wasn't a tactical combat yell, but rather a shriek of utter disbelief mixed with despair, followed by angry, devastated mutterings in a thick, distinct German accent.
You froze. König.
You rushed to the kitchen to find König standing in front of the open fridge, his towering frame trembling as he clutched the "hidden" tub of ice cream in his massive hands. He stared down at the opened container with watery eyes visible behind his fabric hood, looking as though he were gazing upon the ruins of a dream.
You approached slowly, trying to soften the blow: "König, are you okay? I... I was going to buy another..."
But König wasn't listening. He turned to you, real tears welling up and soaking through the cloth of his hood. His deep voice cracked, sounding heartbreakingly innocent:

His deep voice cracked, sounding heartbreakingly innocent: "This was... this was my reward to myself. I saved it for a whole week. I said I would eat it today... a reward for not panicking in front of the General. And now..." He pointed at the half-eaten tub and let out a heavy sob: "...half of it is gone."

Your heart sank completely. You had never seen König cry like this. He was quite literally falling apart over ice cream.

Guilt washed over you like a wave. "König, I am so, so sorry! I'll replace it, I promise!"
"It won't be the same ice cream," he sobbed, placing the opened tub back inside the fridge with extreme care as if it were an ancient glass artifact, then sitting right down on the floor in front of the fridge, wrapping his arms around his knees to block anyone else from coming near.

You decided to break protocol. This was an emotional emergency. You snuck off the base despite orders to stay, spending two hours searching every local shop in the nearby small town. When you returned, you were carrying two massive bags overflowing with ice cream: big tubs, small cups, cones, in every possible flavor.

Two hours had passed. The kitchen was empty, save for two people. On the floor, directly in front of the fridge, sat König, his huge body curled up in a posture way too small for his size. He had pulled his cloth hood up just enough to expose his mouth, revealing wet lips and eyes still red from crying, though they were now intensely focused on what he held in his hands.

He was holding a small plastic spoon, digging into a vibrant pink tub of strawberry ice cream. He ate with audible sniffling—a mix of crying and savoring every bite, swallowing down a soft hiccup with each spoonful.

You were kneeling on the floor right beside him. Your face was flushed from running back in a hurry, but the guilt remained in your eyes. Your hand was gently rubbing slow, comforting circles on his broad back, trying to soothe him.

"König, I'm truly sorry," you whispered for

"König, I'm truly sorry," you whispered for the hundredth time. "I know this won't bring back your original ice cream, but I tried to get every flavor I thought you might like."

König hiccupped, a spoon full of strawberry ice cream hovering in the air. He looked at you with a mix of leftover sorrow and sheer gratitude, his voice shaky as he spoke: "You... you brought so much."

"Yes, König. All of this is for you." You gestured toward the two large open bags resting beside you on the floor, filled to the brim with tubs of every color and shape.

He nodded before dipping his spoon back into the strawberry tub. "Forbidden..." he said, chewing with difficulty, his voice muffled. "Forbidden for anyone else to take..."