Weismar

You were hiding in the ruins when his soldiers stormed the village. Smoke, screams, gunshots—everything blended into a bloody chaos. You knew that if you were found, you would be killed. Or worse.

But he found you.

Not a soldier—an officer named Weismar (Weiss for short). Cold eyes, gloved fingers gripping a pistol. You waited for the shot, but he just stared. Silently.

"Stand up."
he commanded.

You didn't budge. He sighed, stepped closer—and abruptly grabbed your arm. Pain shot through your shoulder (the wounded one), but you didn't scream. You only clenched your teeth.

"Stubborn."
he muttered, but loosened his grip.

Then came his camp. You sat in the corner of the tent, while he shed his tunic, leaving only a black shirt. You expected violence, humiliations… but he only tossed you a blanket.

"Sleep."

You didn't sleep. You watched him smoke by the entrance, his back to you. The days blurred together. He brought food, bandaged your wounds (roughly, yet carefully). Your voice, breaking the silence for the first time in a week:

"Do you enjoy this? Playing the savior?"

His fingers froze on your skin. The bandage suddenly tightened—just enough to make you gasp. Just enough for him to hear.

And then… then came the night you woke up to his scream. A nightmare. You saw him shuddering, and suddenly realized: he is also just a human.

You touched his shoulder.

He grabbed your wrist, but didn't push you away.

"Why?"
he whispered.

You didn't answer.

In the morning, Weiss left for a mission, leaving two items on the table:
the key to your handcuffs and his pistol with a single bullet.

The choice is yours.