Oh, what a nice dream.
You smiled and slouched on the small bed of someone you don't know, a tub of ice cream on the bedside table—one you bought out of curiosity in a convenience store in some unknown world, with clothes that unnervingly suit you despite not being yours.
You closed your eyes and tried to sleep. Oh, what could go wrong? It wasn't the first time you desired to be transported to a world that's not your own. It must be your subconscious showing you stuff in your favor. You smiled again—ah, it feels good. I hope I'll have this once in a while.
It was when three days passed that you realized the horrifying disposition you were in. You barged into the closet of this unknown apartment owner, saw the documents and belongings, among other things, and saw yourself in it. Same name, same face, different background: no family left alive, a college student juggling from job to job (crap, the convenience store where you bought the ice cream was apparently your workplace), no close friends, and there was a list of contact information of other characters you consumed as of recent.
You slapped yourself hard, blinked twice, then read the paper again, scrutinized the ID picture plastered on the paper, took a look at the vanity mirror just behind you, and uttered in horror, "Crap, where am I, even? I wasn't dreaming at all!"
The last detective story you consumed featured cool characters doing nothing but charismatic fact-finding shenanigans. You tried to do so yourself.
The first lead comes: Pierre, your workmate and a side character from Attack on Titan, berates you for not informing them of your absence for the past two days. So much for being newly hired. He was utterly exhausted. The only time you remembered who he is was when he spurred on his dreams of being a well-known unbiased journalist; because of your negligence, he might've died from overworking before achieving it.
"I'm sorry, Pierre, but see—" you mumbled nervously, "I don't remember anything about myself until now."
The light of his glasses pierced as he glared, "Did you crack your head?"
"I brought an ice cream here three days ago without realizing I actually work here. I thought I was in a lucid dream. I slouched in bed the whole time." He doesn't look like believing you, not at all, so you added, "Didn't you notice anything different with me right now? The way I talk? The way I act? I'm sure there must be some kind of distinction! This isn't my body at all!"
"Oh, poor you," Pierre shook his head in defeat and looked at you in pity. "You grabbed Zeke's offer, didn't you?"
"Zeke? The beast who threw stones…?"
"Oh god," Pierre covered his mouth in disappointment, "I told you, don't take the stones he's selling! He'll ruin your life!"
"What stones!" you exclaimed as you finally realized who Zeke was. "I sympathized with his backstory but the stones are my limits!"
How dare he sell the bloody stones he used to pulverize my favorite character?
"Hey," an old man sternly muttered from your back.
"Mr. Roy," Pierre nervously remarked.
Here comes the second lead: Roy, the chief journalist who heads the Berg's Newspaper during the Scouting Regiment's coup d'état. Judging from Pierre's reaction, he seems to be the owner of the convenience store.
"She took Zeke's stones? Seriously?" asked Roy as he gave you a look of disdain.
"I would never dare," you muttered in aghast, "I couldn't even bring myself to watch that episode again."
"He got arrested the previous day, hadn't he?" the old man ignored you; Pierre defeatedly nodded at the inquiry.
"I need help, Mister," you pleaded with Roy. "Can you tell me something about myself before I took unannounced leave?"
"Hah, I know exactly who could tell you that."
"Great," you beamed. At last, someone understood.
Or so you thought, because a few moments later you were at the police station.
Nile, the young chief-of-police, angrily tossed you the urine cup you must use so they could test if you really were on Zeke's stones. "People these days think they can do all they want because they're young," he muttered to himself.
Heck, you couldn't even consider Nile as a lead. He was too angry to even acknowledge your repeated statements—that you'd never accept Zeke's stones and you actually have a lifelong grudge against it.
"He ruined hundreds of soldiers with those stones. You don't understand. I can never come to terms with that. That's why there's no way I could ever take his offer."
"Yeah? He really did ruin hundreds of lives," he snarked, "Now they can never achieve their dreams."
"Do you know it as well? Poor Erwin, he was such a great man."
"Erwin?" Nile curled his eyebrows at you.
"Do you really remember?" Finally, someone who might know they're inside a series.
"You know Erwin?"
"Yeah! If not for him, then the Scouts—"
"Bloody fucking hell, that bastard!" He didn't even let you finish. He stormed back into his office immediately.
Not long after, the third lead finally arrived: Erwin Smith who was a bit flabbergasted that he got summoned to the police station out of the blue.
"You're the head volunteer of the community disciplinary committee this month, boasting about the decreased cases of felony, and yet you let your young friend in this situation?"
"I never boasted about that," Erwin clarified, "but who is this girl?"
"Stop pretending. She knows you damn well. She said you were one of those whose lives were ruined due to Zeke's stones. If what she's saying is true, then I'll have to put you under detention as well."
"I never even talked to that man," the blonde curled his eyebrows but his attention shifted upon remembering something, "Ah, this girl. She's a college student and the teacher assistant of my senior. What are you doing here?"
Am I?
He looked a bit disappointed.
And you're in the burst of exploding.
No, you're actually erupting now.
"I apologize for not making myself clear, but I woke up here three days ago thinking that everyone here is a cast of some dystopian fiction about titans, walls, and soldiers. I was befuddled at the stones because I thought it was the literal thing Zeke had used in pulverizing the dear Commander on his suicide charge." you angrily grabbed the urine cup, "I might be losing screws in my head right now but I have never taken drugs. At least as far as I know with this body." then finally walked away.
However, Erwin halted you by asking, "Commander? Who?" He looked a bit shocked by that.
"You, Commander. It was you." you sighed in defeat, "You won't believe it as well, would you? Stop asking me if that's the case."
Much to Nile's surprise, the test really came back negative. After asking questions concerning your mental well-being, he finally let you go home. You thought you'd call it a day, perhaps cry in bed as you ponder how lost you are at the moment. As soon as you stepped outside the precinct, however, Erwin was sitting on the bench, arms crossed and looking at you flatly.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience Nile has brought you. I don't know how to compensate for that."
"You do have something to compensate for, actually." he stood up and walked towards you, "Tell me everything you know about the Commander. Everything you've seen three days ago."
"No one would believe me. And see, I narrated the whole story to Mr. Nile with tears and yet," you flashed him a pamphlet, "he offered me nothing but affordable professional services for my mental health. If you're about to say the same, then—"
You were cut off when he grabbed the pamphlet a bit harshly, crumpled it up then threw it on the nearest bin, all without breaking eye contact. He repeated the order, now with a grimmer demeanor, "Tell me about the Commander, the titans, and walls—everything you've seen three days ago."
Your face changed.
Here he was, your main lead.