Hange's hands trembled slightly as she flipped through the journal once more, unable to resist the compulsion to reexamine the vile revelations within. Zeke's meticulously penned entries devolved into disconcerting chaos as the pages progressed. What began as calculated observations had descended into frenzied scrawls, their jagged lines betraying a mind teetering on the brink.
One section, illuminated by the wavering candlelight, struck Hange with a chilling clarity:
"The Ackerman blood is a curse, an aberration of natural order. A tool crafted for war, bound to serve, but still a threat to its wielder. In Levi, it thrives unchecked—a beast with loyalty carved into its marrow, yet dangerous because it cannot be controlled. But with the Founder's relic, I will rewrite this flaw. His blood will bend to my will as surely as his blade bends to his grip."
The script darkened, the pressure of the pen evident in the strokes:
"He will kneel. The mighty 'Captain' reduced to a puppet. I will make him mine, not through respect or trust—things he grants to fools—but through the sheer force of power that his kind cannot resist. When he kneels, Erwin's so-called humanity crumbles, and the rest will follow. The Ackerman will be my proof of the inevitability of my vision."
Hange's breath quickened as her eyes fell upon the next page, where text spiraled erratically across the margins:
"Levi. Levi. Levi. The little wretch crawled out of the filth to claw at the ankles of gods. Unworthy. Untouchable. Yet somehow untamed. He is the splinter under my skin, the thorn in my side. I hate him because he stands in defiance of what should be. His existence mocks the natural order."
The page was marred with slashes, entire lines obscured as if Zeke had struck them in a fit of rage. Yet amidst the chaos, Hange discerned one chilling statement that made her stomach turn:
"I will break him, and in doing so, I will break them all."
The arrival of a visitor disrupted her anxious solitude. A gentle knock at the door, though soft in its execution, startled her into action. She hastily concealed the journal amidst other papers, its incriminating contents hidden from view, and bade the caller to enter.
Erwin appeared, his figure as composed as ever, though the keen observer might note the faint shadow of some recent concern upon his brow. His gaze, steady and perceptive, fell upon Hange with the kind of understanding that made concealment an altogether futile endeavour.
"You are troubled, Hange," he began, his voice as even as his expression. "Might I inquire into the cause?"
"It is Zeke's journal, and in it, he has written extensively about us—our pasts, our connections, and even our vulnerabilities."
Erwin's expression shifted to one of quiet contemplation, his habitual composure now underscored by a deeper intensity. "What precisely does he know?" he asked.
"It's worse than I thought," she whispered, her voice trembling with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. "He… he plans to use the Founder Relic's power to manipulate Levi through his Ackerman blood. He thinks he can control him like a weapon, to force him into servitude."
Erwin's calm façade cracked for the briefest of moments, his brow furrowing deeply as he processed her words. "Such power," he said quietly, almost to himself, "in the hands of someone like Zeke… it would be catastrophic."
Hange nodded, her face pale. "And his hatred for Levi… it's personal, Erwin. Obsessive. He sees Levi as a symbol of everything he resents. If he succeeds, it won't just be Levi who suffers. It will be all of us."
The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the room, the flickering candlelight casting distorted shadows against the walls. For the first time, Hange felt the enormity of their situation truly pressing down upon her, and though she trusted Erwin's brilliance, the thought of Levi falling victim to Zeke's madness filled her with a dread she could not shake.
"We need a plan," Erwin said finally, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "One that ensures Zeke does not get close enough to Levi—or this Founder Relic—to enact any of this."
Hange's nod was resolute, but her grip on the journal betrayed her lingering fear. They had faced many battles, but this one was uniquely insidious. It would require not only strength but also cunning, and above all, the ability to anticipate the movements of a mind as twisted as Zeke Yeager's.
The days that followed were charged with a vigilance so relentless it bordered on obsession. Hange, veiling her scrutiny with her usual buoyant sociability, observed Zeke Yeager with an intensity that left little unnoticed. Every sly twist of his smile, every calculated lilt in his speech, every deft maneuver that endeared him to Meryton's unsuspecting society sharpened her suspicions. Beneath his practiced charm lay a simmering malice—a venomous hatred masked by his polished demeanor, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Zeke's fascination with Levi Ackerman quickly proved to be more than passing. At every gathering—whether it was a genteel tea party or a raucous town hall assembly—Zeke's presence was a foregone conclusion, and his gaze, when fixed on Levi, carried a disconcerting blend of amusement and calculation. Levi, outwardly unshaken, bore these encounters with his customary stoicism. Yet Hange noticed the subtle signs of tension: the tightening of his jaw, the quick dart of his eyes, and the flicker of fury that sparked whenever Zeke's name lingered in conversation.
One evening, as a pale moon cast its silvery glow across the village, Hange's apprehension reached its breaking point. She waited until the household was silent before slipping down the shadowed halls to Levi's chambers. She found him seated near the hearth, his sharp features lit by the dying embers of a fire. Though his posture seemed relaxed, the slight furrow in his brow betrayed the restless workings of his mind.
"Levi," she began, her voice a hurried whisper as she closed the door behind her. "I have uncovered something about Zeke. Something dangerous."
Levi's piercing gaze rose to meet hers. "Go on," he said, his voice calm but edged with curiosity and suspicion.
Hange took a breath. "It's about the Ackerman bloodline. Zeke… he knows more than he should, and I believe he intends to exploit it. He wants to use the Founder Relic's power to control you. To turn you into nothing more than a weapon bent to his will."
For a moment, Levi was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with chilling precision, he said, "So that's why he's been watching. He means to take away the one thing that keeps me free—my choice."
"Exactly," Hange replied, her voice heavy with urgency. "We cannot allow him to make the first move. But defeating him will require knowledge we don't yet possess. There's someone in London—a man named Rod Reiss. He is rumored to know more about the Founder Relic than anyone alive. If we can gain his insight, we may find a way to stop Zeke."
Levi's eyes narrowed, his reluctance clear. "And if Reiss proves to be another schemer, what then?"
"We'll deal with that if it comes," Hange countered, her tone resolute. "But staying here, waiting for Zeke to act, is not an option."
After a long silence, Levi gave a curt nod. "We leave at first light. Quietly."
Their departure was shrouded in secrecy, and the sprawling metropolis of London—its labyrinthine streets alive with opportunity and treachery—awaited them. But before they could leave, an unexpected invitation arrived: a grand ball hosted by the Yeager family.
Hange and Levi attended, their true mission hidden behind forced smiles and formal attire. The ballroom, resplendent with gilded chandeliers and glittering gowns, buzzed with idle chatter and the clinking of champagne flutes. Zeke, ever the consummate host, floated through the crowd, his presence magnetic and unnerving.
Hange's breath hitched when Zeke, with his disarming smile, approached them. "Ah, Captain Levi," he drawled, his tone dripping with feigned politeness. "You've been rather elusive tonight. Perhaps a dance with your charming companion would lighten your mood?"
Before Levi could respond, Hange extended her hand, her eyes locking briefly with Zeke's in a challenge. "I think the captain's mood is fine as it is. But if you'll excuse us…"
She led Levi to the dance floor, and as the music swelled, their steps fell into a rhythm that was both graceful and charged with tension.
"You're unusually quiet," Levi muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the room as they turned.
"Quiet because I'm thinking," Hange replied, her voice low. "Or perhaps because I'm wondering how much longer you'll avoid facing the truth."
Levi's grip on her hand tightened slightly. "And what truth would that be?"
"That you're letting Zeke's provocations control you," Hange shot back. "You think if you keep him at arm's length, you'll stay unscathed. But that's cowardice, Levi. You're afraid to confront what he represents—your past, your pain, and the possibility of failure."
Levi's jaw clenched, his steps faltering momentarily before he regained composure. "Careful, Hange," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. "You speak as though you aren't tangled in his schemes yourself. You spend so much time watching him that I wonder if you're not already caught in his web."
The accusation stung, and for a moment, Hange faltered, her carefully maintained mask slipping. "You know that's not true," she whispered, her voice tinged with both anger and hurt. "I've risked everything to protect us, to protect you. Don't you dare question my loyalty."
The music swelled to a crescendo, the final note ringing in the air as they stood frozen, their gazes locked in an unspoken truce laced with unresolved tension.
Before either could retreat, Zeke ascended the grand staircase, his commanding presence drawing every eye to him. He raised a glass, his voice slicing through the hum of the crowd like a blade.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his tone smooth, calculated, and triumphant, "it is with great anticipation that I share this momentous announcement. We stand on the cusp of a new era, one that will bring unparalleled power and unity to our cause. Tonight, I am pleased to unveil a partnership with none other than Rod Reiss, the true heir to the throne."
The room fell into a stunned silence, the weight of his words settling heavily upon the crowd. A murmur rippled through the gathering as Zeke's smile widened, basking in their reaction.
Hange's breath caught as she turned to Levi, who stood as though carved from stone. His expression darkened, an unyielding storm of fury brewing just beneath the surface. The mention of Rod Reiss—their only clue to the Founder Relic—triggered something raw and unrelenting within him.
The crowd recovered quickly, erupting into polite applause, but Levi remained rigid. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the barely restrained tremor of rage evident in his taut form.
Hange, alarmed, moved closer and whispered urgently, "Levi, don't." Her hand brushed his arm, grounding him, but it felt like trying to hold back the tide.
His eyes, cold and unwavering, were fixed on Zeke. Hange could see it—the fracture in his iron control, the moment before the storm broke.
"He's working with the man who turned everything we know into a game of lies," Levi hissed under his breath, his voice like a low growl.
"I know," Hange whispered back, her voice trembling with urgency. "But you can't do this here. Not now. It's what he wants. Think."
Zeke raised his glass higher, the flickering chandelier light catching the crystalline facets and casting refracted shards across the room. "To alliances that will define the future," he declared, his gaze sweeping the room and lingering, just for a moment, on Levi.
Levi's jaw tightened further, the room around him fading as his focus narrowed on Zeke. The announcement hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, Hange feared Levi would rise to it, consequences be damned.