03 | Veterans (Part 2)
If there was one thing Petra couldn't avoid, it was getting attached to people.
Petra already felt at home in just three days and two nights of living in the manor, as if she was raised to live there. The veteran couple welcomed her and Nifa as family, and Petra almost considered them her grandparents. She felt grateful as if they were a blessing sent by the universe. But, as planned, the couple decided to leave on Friday afternoon.
"Where are you going to live now, Grandpa?" Petra asked, Curiosity gnawing at her since the first day.
The old man closed the car trunk, looking at her with a serious expression. "Somewhere beyond the mountains and plains, where giants won't hinder our freedom."
Petra blinked, taken aback, and thought, That's deep.
A soft chuckle came from the grand staircase. "Don't tease her, Captain."
"I'm just saying it plainly instead of telling her it's classified. She's a civilian," the old man muttered, shrugging it off. "Are we all set?"
"Yes." The old woman smiled at Petra, shifting her attention. "Don't forget to feed the fish in my pond, okay?"
"I will, Granny," Petra said, nodding earnestly.
"And keep the house neat," the old man added, his tone a little more gruff.
Petra chuckled. "Got it. And by the way, I haven't seen Nifa since morning," she said, her eyes wandering around.
"The other girl... she went to the hospital this morning. Something urgent," the old woman explained. She held Petra's hands gently. "I don't know if we can visit during the holidays, so I'm entrusting this house to you. Don't worry, the ghosts here are friendly."
Petra laughed. "Geez! That's a bit creepy."
The old man stood beside his wife, watching Petra with his usual impassive expression. "If you find any interesting paintings around here, hang them on the walls. I think someone's hiding one of my collections that I couldn't find," he said, glancing at his wife, who was secretly grinning.
"Yes, Grandpa," Petra said enthusiastically, saluting him playfully.
"You're giving me chills, kid," he muttered, reaching for her hand. The old woman's smirk widened as she watched them. "Take this with you. Might save you from this cruel world."
Petra stared at the Swiss knife in her hand, completely puzzled. "W-Why are you giving me a knife?"
He raised an eyebrow. "A baseball bat won't save your life. Trust me, kid."
The old woman added, "I thought the same once. But a baseball bat only slows down an intruder. A knife, on the other hand, can make him think twice."
Petra nodded slowly, feeling a mix of enlightenment and bewilderment. She bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you, Granny and Grandpa. I'll miss you."
"Aww. Come here," the old woman said, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'll miss you too, dear. Tell the other girl I hope she's alright."
The old man ruffled Petra's hair before opening the passenger door for his wife. "Don't let your guard down."
Petra's eyes welled as she watched the couple's car leave. The old woman waved from the open window, and Petra waved back, feeling a lump in her throat. She had never expected to find such an instant family in the city—people who took her in without hesitation and gave her a place to stay.
As the car disappeared from sight, Petra turned back into the manor. Now that the old couple was gone, she felt a strange emptiness. Her eyes drifted to the paintings hanging on the walls. She remembered the old man's words about his missing painting collection, which made her smile.
"I don't know where she hid that one painting of a soldier," he'd said, his eyebrows twitching in frustration, as they walked through the east wing a few days ago.
Curious, Petra had asked, "Who was that soldier, Grandpa?"
The old man had stopped before a painting of a lady soldier with burnt orange hair and amber eyes. "Her Captain," he had muttered cryptically.
Petra's smile faded as she tried to process what he said. She remembered that moment as she stood in silence, and as the thought lingered, she suddenly remembered Nifa so she grabbed her phone and dialed her number. She took the call after a few rings.
"Are they still there?" Nifa answered, her voice still a little groggy.
"They left just a little while ago," Petra said. "Hey, are you okay?" She couldn't help but feel a little worried.
"I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye," Nifa said with a frown. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll be there later. The doctor is here, see you," she added before hanging up.
A couple of days later, Petra and Nifa started working at the university. The manor, once lively with the old couple's presence, now felt eerily quiet and empty. It took them a while to adjust to the new routine, but they were managing.
One morning, Petra was getting ready for the day when she accidentally dropped her lipstick. It rolled under her bed, and she let out a muffled complaint. As she crouched down to get it, her hand brushed against something hard. Curiosity piqued as she pulled the object out.
"What is that?" she murmured to herself.
When she pulled it out, she realized it was a large painting of a soldier covered by a dusty cloth.
"This must be the painting Grandpa was talking about…" Petra thought triumphantly. "I should tell him! But… where are they now? How do I tell him?"
She called Nifa to help her hang it on the wall above her bed.
"You're driving me crazy. How did you go from finding old paintings to getting all obsessed with soldiers?" Nifa said with a slight scowl.
"Just now," Petra replied, smiling as she held the painting up.
Nifa gave her a look that clearly said you're getting weird.
That night, Petra found herself staring at the soldier's face for almost an hour. There was something about him—the way he looked so serious like he had seen things. The words Her Captain echoed in her mind. Who was he? Why did the old man call him that?
The curiosity was eating at her.
The next evening, Petra couldn't resist anymore. She decided to investigate the east wing of the manor. She turned on all the lights and walked through the long, narrow corridor. The walls were lined with portraits of soldiers, each one wearing a combat uniform. But the one that stood out to her the most was the lady soldier with burnt orange hair and amber eyes—she was the only one painted alone, isolated from the rest.
"Does that mean something?" Petra wondered as she gazed at the painting, "We resemble each other."
Her thoughts kept circling around the mystery. She wondered if the Her Captain painting in her room could be connected. There was something deeper there, something she didn't quite understand.
Three years later, Petra had a vivid dream. She was watching a man, called Humanity's Strongest Soldier, sitting across the table. His piercing grey eyes were almost always narrowed in a permanent frown, his blunt words shutting everyone down.
As she watched him, a strange tension filled the air. Then, he locked eyes with her, and in that instant, her heart raced. He walked towards her, and before she could even react, he tugged her arm and led her outside the room where other soldiers were gathered.
They walked in silence through the long corridors, but when they reached a corner, he suddenly pushed her against the wall, trapping her with one arm.
"Petra," he said, his voice cold, his eyes piercing. "I don't want to see you hanging out with that brat while on duty."
Petra froze. She couldn't find the words to say.
"I should've made him clean the whole castle that day. Tch." He sounded irritated.
Castle?* Petra thought, stunned. Her mouth hung open in disbelief.
Before she could process more, footsteps approached. The man immediately pulled back from her.
"Captain Levi!" one of the men called out.
"What is it, Erd?" the man—Levi—answered, sounding irritated.
"Captain... Levi," Petra whispered to herself as realization hit her like a thunderbolt.
She woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. She looked at the painting above her bed and whispered, "Are you a Captain? Is your name… Levi?"
And in another world, far away, at the Survey Corps Headquarters, amidst the remnants of titans and unfinished investigations, a mysterious glass door began to glow—connecting two universes where the invisible strings between them had never been cut.