A cold breeze entered the blacked-out room. Sophie twisted herself in the bedsheets, trying to create some warmth. She couldn't sleep, but she didn't want to face the grim reality either. Instead, she closed her eyes and waited.

Winter had always been harsh in Ehrmich. Not sleeping was disturbing enough, but even more so in a freezing room. Slowly, she incorporated herself on the bed and rubbed her shoulders. She looked at the nightstand, governed by a large empty bottle—a gift from Asbel to congratulate her for the recent success of her projects. She grabbed the glass container and shook it over her open mouth, but only a few drops came out. She sighed and moistened her chapped lips with the tip of her tongue, leaving a whiff of alcohol on them.

Sophie rolled out of bed and headed towards the extinguished fireplace in the living room. Her hands were trembling, which made the striking of a match a daunting task. Once the fire had started again, she remained there, letting the warmth of the flames surround her.

She thought about laying down on the couch and sleeping the day off, an idea that was close to becoming a habit. She shook her head; there was something else she had to do first. She exited the room and walked down the stairs at a rapid pace. Her heart was beating so fast, she feared it would get stuck in her throat and explode. Her hands continued to tremble as she anxiously opened the main door. Even though she had done that same ritual every day for the past months, her body and mind were still unable to hide the nervousness and excitement arising from it.

She stared at the black mailbox, ingrained on the outside wall of her house. She passed her hand through the relief of her initials that decorated the metal cover. With a gulp, she grabbed the small handle and pulled the plaque out, which revealed a couple of letters inside; maybe that would be her lucky day. She picked up the envelopes and pressed them against her chest as she returned inside, smiling. Once the door was closed, she leaned her back on it and took a deep breath. She only wished for one sender among those letters.

Her breathing got more intense as she flipped through the mail. "Work, work, work, Asbel, work…" she thought to herself, revising the addresses from the remitters and dropping the envelopes without checking their content. Suddenly, she found herself with empty hands, surrounded by letters scattered on the floor. She didn't even bother to pick them up. Instead, she walked back to the living room, dragging her feet and with her heart sunken in sorrow.

She was disappointed in herself for believing something would change. It had been months since she had received notice of Farlan's fate, and even more months since she had sent the first letter to Levi. And each day, she had waited for a response.

"I left them alone in the Underground. I sent them to the Survey Corps. Now they are dead. He hates me. Of course, he hates me," she thought. "I killed them. He hates me. That's why he left me." The same sentences echoed in her head with every step.

Once she reached the workspace in the living room, she dropped herself on the chair, leaning her head on the table. She wanted to cry, but there were no more tears left. Now she could only let grief consume her. "I just wanted all of us to be happy. Together. And I killed them. He hates me." Her thoughts were not sentences anymore, just the same words haunting her every day. She didn't blame him for not replying; she blamed herself for ruining everything. She had endured all those insults on the surface, in hopes that one day she could be influential enough to bring them back. Once she had, they had been slaughtered because of it. Her only friends, the closest thing to a family after her dad's murder, were now dead because of her selfishness. And the one person from that gruesome place who could make her happy didn't want to hear from her anymore.

There was only one thing that could quiet all those feelings of loneliness, regrets, and grief. Sophie grasped the metal needle on top of the table and used it to tie her hair in a bun. She reached for the pencil and inkpot to continue working on the pending blueprints. Mesmerized with her workflow, she didn't feel time passing, or the incoming light breaking through the curtains. Her hands hurt from the constant motion of drafting and writing, but at least the rumbling thoughts had stopped. She focused only on the numbers and sketches. Swollen fingers were a small price to pay to maintain her sanity.

She heard a knock on the room's door. Too captivated by the papers in front of her, she simply responded with a hum. It wasn't until she could feel a presence right next to her that she bothered to look up.

Asbel was there.

"You are up early," he said. Sophie dropped the pencil and scoffed. "Sorry for breaking in like this. I knocked on the main door, but no one came. Oh, I found these at the entrance." He left the letters on the table. Sophie stared at them with apathy.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Asbel smiled and lifted his other hand, holding a cloth bag, "I also brought breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she replied, still staring at the paper envelopes.

"Well, I am," he said with bitterness. He looked around the sober decoration of the room. "You should make this place a bit more lively. I can't believe you have no butlers or kitchen staff. I'll send you some of mine."

"It's fine. You don't have to."

"It wasn't a question," he said with reproval. He scanned Sophie from head to toe, frowning as he remarked, "Those are the same clothes as yesterday."

She rubbed her eyes to end the withdrawal caused by the letters. "Yeah, sorry. I've had a lot of work, but I've finished the plans and gun approvals you asked for."

"Already? Impressive." Asbel flipped through the pages on the workstation, evaluating them. "You've been working a lot lately."

"It's the only thing keeping me from jumping off the balcony," she mumbled. Despite the sarcastic tone, she wasn't sure whether she wanted Asbel to hear it. She regretted her words instantly.

He leaned forward and frowned, "Sorry, what did you say?" His confused expression indicated that her voice had been low enough, and she sighed in relief.

"Nothing. Breakfast?" she said, clenching her teeth to force a smile. He smirked in return and nodded.

They sat on the largest couch and ate the food in silence. Asbel had already finished his pastries, but Sophie had barely taken a few bites of hers.

"So, what have been those crazy Survey Corps up to lately?" he asked, playfully. He always kept up with her work and operations; she found it comforting that he showed so much interest in her occupation. However, she was too lost in her thoughts, obliviously staring at the flames. "Sophie?"

She twitched on her seat as Asbel called her name. "Sorry. Yeah, Survey Corps. Uh, I think Shadis is about to resign. I'm pretty sure Smith will become the next Commander. He has asked for some signaling devices, so I bet he is trying to favor the Government with new mission plans to get more funding."

"He won't get anything out of it," he concluded with a serious expression.

"Why are you so sure?"

"I just am." He cleared his throat and pointed at Sophie's hand. "I thought those were your favorites," he remarked, using a napkin to wipe away the crumbs on his lips. "Apple filling, right?"

Sophie stared at the tart and smirked. She found it charming that he had remembered that, even if her appetite wasn't cooperating.

"Yes, thank you," she said, forcing herself to take a bite. Asbel moved closer to her, resting his arm over the top of the couch.

"I should be the one thanking you. Your work has been impeccable so far; you definitely made a good impression on Reiss and the others."

Sophie rolled her eyes, "I don't think the Board will share that feeling once they find out that I'm working for private projects without their approval." It wasn't the first time she had voiced her disagreement with his requests. She tried to be careful when filling the papers, but the Police could still figure out that she was skipping the Board's approval, sending the production files directly to Asbel instead. The businessman had assured her protection, but his words were her only guarantee.

"So, you would rather be their slave again?" His tone quickly changed from softness to judgment.

"No, that's not what I meant…"

"Then I don't get it. They insulted you, ignored your ideas. They used you without ever recognizing your talent, but you still want to play by their rules?"

"I just…" She left the pastry on the coffee table, thinking about her answer. "It's not right."

"You deserve to become Chief one day. If they won't help you, then I will."

Sophie scoffed in disbelief; Asbel was a businessman after all.

"You only say that because you get to subsidize my projects."

"No. It's because I know you can do great things and bring richness. Not just to me, but to everyone inside these walls." He grabbed her hand. "You are special."

"There is nothing special about me." She remembered those endless nights improving her handwriting and studying, only to barely catch up with her peers in Civil. "I just work hard."

"And look where that got you. You are not in the Underground anymore; you are eating delicacies in your own manor. You are next to someone that cares for you, who can see your potential. All because of your hard work. What else do you need?"

She wavered on her seat, mulling over the question. She had gone from a poor Underground thug to a refined lady of Ehrmich. Asbel had helped, but ultimately, it had been her own resilience that had allowed her to get so far up. She had done that to save her friends, but now she was enjoying a life of luxury because of it. Why was she still checking the mail every day, wishing for a reply from someone who didn't care about her anymore? Why was she still holding onto the past? Why did she blame herself if they had always seen her as a tool?

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Maybe you are right."

"You know I am." He smiled, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand and sinking his blue eyes on her. Sophie could feel herself drowning in his gaze, thinking about how he had always been by her side. How he had always replied to her letters. Suddenly, Asbel moved his fingers away from her skin. "I have something for you." He slid a hand into his jacket's inner pocket to retrieve an elongated, black cardboard box. She stared at his offer for a moment, before gently grabbing the present with both hands

"Is that…for me?"

He nodded, "I was going to wait a bit longer, but I think now is the time."

Sophie slowly removed the cover of the box. Inside, a velvet cushion supported a large, golden needle with an intricated pattern on its top, decorated with sapphires. Sophie passed her fingers through the item, too mesmerized to take it out of its container.

"Asbel…"

"I noticed that cheap metal thing you tie your hair with every day. People usually give a ring, but I thought you would find this more useful."

Sophie blinked, perplexed at the sight of such an object and the proposal that came with it. "This must've cost you a fortune."

"It's our fortune. I wouldn't have secured my business and position in the Government without you, and you wouldn't have risen above those bastards without me. We complete each other. You deserve to be powerful. You deserve to eat and drink as much as you want and have someone by your side who can see how strong you are. I can help you, and you can help me. Because, unlike the rest, I know you." Sophie was unresponsive, feeling his words merge with the events of the past months; the work, the insults, the deaths, the letters, Asbel, and the recognition that came with him. He stared at Sophie, too dazed to reply, before leaning forward and whispering, "I can make you happy."

He put a hand behind her head and removed the old needle, untying the bun in the process. Sophie stared at his decisive gaze as she felt her hair brushing her shoulders. She found it surreal that someone so refined like Asbel would ask an ordinary girl like her to marry him; her seasoned Underground gut couldn't conceive such gesture. She submerged herself in those blue eyes, trying to find something that indicated that he was lying, or that everything was a dream. Instead, she only found an ice wall that she was unable to penetrate. Her feelings were mixed, but his kind actions were clear; he had lifted her in a world that insisted on keeping her down. He had been there when grief and loneliness had taken over her body and soul.

"All this time, I've been working for others. My father, Levi, the Military. They only cared about themselves. They all left me on my own. They all used me. But I'm no slave. I can be strong, smart, and powerful without them too," she thought. "I'm special. I deserve it."

She grabbed the golden needle and used it to tie her hair.

That night, she didn't sleep either. Surrounded by darkness, she got out of bed and walked to the living room. The flames of the fireplace were still burning the wood with a creaking sound. Not with as much strength as before, but enough to keep the area warm until morning. She opened one of the drawers from her workstation to retrieve a small envelope. Despite the lack of light, she knew exactly who that letter was addressed to. She stared at it, passing her fingers through the inked name on the paper. The images started appearing in her head; the bag she had dropped on him, the rusty knife and chipped teacup, his touch in the warmth of the candlelight. She had worked day and night to get that back, to get him back. And he had abandoned her.

"I'm not guilty. I'm not a killer. I'm a survivor," she thought while ripping the enveloped letter to pieces. She grabbed the paper fragments and clenched them with her first. She walked towards the fireplace and threw the remains of the unsent mail to the flames. "I won't let anyone use me ever again."

Levi walked down the stairs of the prison basement, illuminated by the torches hanging from the wall. The Police greeted him on the way, but he had his jaw too clenched to even nod at them. He could deal with grief, but betrayal was not something he took lightly.

He arrived at the cell. Of course, there were still guards around, monitoring that there was no illicit exchange of information between them. He didn't care; everything he had to say would remain unchanged, regardless of the spectators.

His footsteps resonated on the pavement as he approached the metal bars separating him from the silhouette sitting on the other side. The flames from the torches were not enough to illuminate their face, but he didn't need it anyway.

"Keeping yourself in the shadows, I see. It suits you, Sophie."

She slowly stood up and walked towards the gate, in silence. With every step she took, the light from the corridor lit up her features more. She was wearing a simple white dress, covered in ash and dirt from the cell. Her hair—usually so meticulously held in a bun—was now falling over her shoulders with disarray. Her left cheek was swollen with a purple shade; the Police were not known for being kind during their arrests.

There was no trace of a high-class lady in that sight.

She stared at Levi and asked, "Why are you here?"

He wasn't sure of the answer either. He would have time to hear her explanations at the trial. Something inside him wanted to see whether her eyes would show a slight speck of guilt or remorse.

"You killed all those people. People like you and me, trying to survive. You betrayed your friends. You sold us off. And for what? For money? For power? Tell me, Sophie, what could've possibly been so alluring to turn you into a cold-blooded criminal? Or have you always been this way, just like Asbel said?" Levi could feel his voice become more spiteful with every word.

She remained silent, with no expression on her face. Her statuesque presence angered Levi even more. He wrapped his hands around the metal bars forming the gate and shook them as he shouted, "Tell me!"

The motion startled Sophie. Instead of retreating, she got closer. Levi was not someone to show anger so easily and quickly composed himself. However, he was unable to let go of the metal bars. Suddenly, she put her hands around his. Levi gasped at the gesture, trying to decipher her soft gaze. "Come on, say it. Say that we got it wrong. Tell me I got it wrong," he wished to himself.

She remained silent.

Levi grunted and moved away from the door, shaking his hands to get rid of any trace of her touch.

"I hope you are saving your explanations for the trial. I reckon you will need them, even if they won't save you from spending the rest of your life in a filthy cell like this. Or worse." He took a step back, giving Sophie one last look, one last chance of regret. She continued to remain speechless, and so he turned around. Before he headed towards the staircase, he clenched his fist and quietly said, "I've seen all kinds of gruesome deaths and slaughter on the battlefield. But nothing will be as horrifying to me as what you've done to those people. To the Corps," he paused. "And to me."