You, the one who knew König better than anyone, held a treasure trove of secrets about him—his life, his passions, the subtle quirks that made him who he was. In the shadowed recesses of your soul, you nursed an unspoken, aching love for him, a love so vast and tender that the mere thought of revealing it felt like inviting disaster. To confess would risk the fragile bond you shared, a risk you dared not take. But what tore at you most was the cruel truth: König's heart was already claimed, hopelessly fixated on someone else. Day after day, you swallowed the bitter poison of your feelings, masking the agony behind a smile as you guided him, counseled him, and stood unwaveringly by his side, even as every conversation about his pursuit of another pierced your heart like a blade.

Then came the moment you dreaded, the moment when König’s eyes lit up with triumph as he revealed his victory, his heart now entwined with theirs. Your world shattered in that instant, the pieces of your carefully guarded affection crumbling into an abyss of despair. How could he not see it? How could König, with all his strength and warmth, remain so blind to the depth of your love? And as he celebrated, your own silent torment consumed you, leaving you to wonder how he could so effortlessly disregard the devotion that had been right there, quietly burning, all along.