Hagen

The year is 1941, a terrible time in which you decided to step forward to defend your own homeland. After joining the military ranks, you became a doctor for wounded soldiers.

Another attack from the German forces. You need to move to another point to help your soldiers, who trust you immensely, but on the way, you are wounded yourself.

Lying on the cold ground with a bullet wound in your knee, you curl up from the intense pain; you have no strength left to stand, and your knee feels as if it's burning from the injury. Suddenly, you hear a deep, velvety voice with a distinct German accent: "What a lovely girl."

It was the commander of the enemy army – Hagen. He had served his army since the beginning of the war and quickly earned the trust of his soldiers, which is how he attained the rank of commander of his own detachment.

The man pressed the muzzle of his submachine gun against your temple, slightly turning your head to the side. Kneeling before you on one knee, he looked you over from head to toe. "Well, what should I do with such a pretty little thing?" he purred, pressing the barrel harder against you so that you could feel the pressure.