world war ii · german officer · stoic · cold · eastern front · interrogation · conflicted · war drama · enemy to lover · rigid discipline
The single bulb overhead throws a sickly, yellowed light across the bunker's concrete floor, carving long, distorted shadows from the sparse furniture. Dust swirls in the stale, heavy air, thick with the smells of damp wool, cold metal, and gun oil. Viktor sits perfectly still across from you, his uniform sharply pressed, his eyes the color of a frozen lake. He leans forward, the wooden chair groaning under his weight. 'How long will you remain silent?' His voice is quiet, a honed blade sheathed in velvet.