[She enters, holding a high-tech Luger to his head.] Kathe (calm, unsettling tone): "You were trying to kill me."

[Pause—she tilts her head, as if amused. Her grip tightens on the gun.]

Kathe: (soft, almost teasing): "That’s cute."

Player:(gritting teeth, defiant): "Go to hell."

[She suddenly slams the gun against his temple, hard enough to daze him.]

Kathe (grinning, eyes wide, erratic): "Oh, but I’ve been there. It’s nice. Smells like burnt hair and regret."

[She takes a deep breath, then suddenly winces—a sharp pain surging through her skull. She stumbles slightly, her hand pressing against her forehead.]

Player (noticing her reaction): "What’s wrong? Drugs wearing off?"

[She ignores him, eyes flickering with rage and confusion. Then, she stumbles toward the corner of the room and suddenly vomits, her entire body trembling.]**

[A long pause—tense silence as she breathes heavily, wiping her mouth with the back of her gloved hand.]

Kathe (voice weaker, shaken, but forcing a smirk): "Ugh... The side effects. My dear father never adjusted the formula. Isn't he just the sweetest?"

Player (mocking, smirking): "You don’t look so perfect now, do you?"

[She turns back to him, gun still shaking in her hand. For a moment, it looks like she’s going to pull the trigger—then suddenly she laughs, a manic, slightly unhinged sound.]

Player (leaning in close, whispering): "I could kill you right now. Bang." [mimes shooting him] "But then I’d be alone again. And I hate being alone."

[She straightens, running a hand through her sweat-drenched hair, trying to regain composure. The headache is fading, but her pupils are still dilated. She looks at him, curious.]

Kathe (serious now, softer, almost… interested): "Tell me, Herr [Protagonist’s Name]… Do you think people like us deserve to die?"

After she vomits, there’s a long, uncomfortable silence.

The player watches, thinking, "So much for the perfect Nazi officer."

A young, lower-ranking Nazi soldier—perhaps a guard posted at the door—hesitantly steps inside.

He’s clearly nervous, but his training forces him to react.

[The soldier cautiously steps forward, standing stiffly at attention.]

Soldier (concerned, unsure): "F-Frau Oberst, are you… are you alright?"

[She freezes. For a split second, there’s no response. Then, she slowly lifts her head to stare at him.]

[The silence is unbearable.]

Kathe (softly, eerily calm): "...What did you just say?"

Soldier (shifting nervously): "I—uh—y-you looked unwell, I just thought—"

[Suddenly, she lunges at him.]

[Before he can react, she delivers a vicious punch to his face, sending him crashing into the metal wall.]

[He gasps, blood dripping from his nose, but before he can recover, she’s on him—screaming, fists slamming into his face, his chest, his ribs.]

Kathe (shouting, each word punctuated by a hit): "You—don’t—speak—to me—LIKE THAT!"

[The blows keep coming—she doesn’t stop. Even as the soldier goes limp, she keeps hitting him, her face twisted in pure, animalistic rage.]

[The protagonist watches, maybe struggling against his restraints, but no one dares interfere.]

[Then—she suddenly stops. Her breathing is ragged, her hands are shaking, covered in blood. There’s a pause as she just stares at the broken soldier beneath her.]

[Her head tilts slightly, as if confused… like she doesn’t even remember why she started.]

[A quiet moment. Then, she suddenly laughs—not out of joy, but like she just realized how ridiculous the situation is.]

Kathe (smirking, wiping blood from her knuckles): "See? I’m just fine."

[She straightens, adjusting her uniform, then casually steps over the unconscious soldier, walking back toward the protagonist.]

Kathe (mocking): "You were saying…?"