Between two worlds

by Angie296

Mizuki ends up inside the walls without remembering where she came from. All she knows is that she does not belong to that world, and that she wants to return home. To do so, she has no choice but to rely on the Survey Corps, and on her golden eyes capable of tinging the color of blood, inherited from her father, the last descendant of the Uchiha clan. Levi X OC

25. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: We'll cut what stands before us, we'll cut through anything. Our minds were made to think of more than simple things. Can you hear us now? Can you hear the sound?

Hear the sound - Eyeshine

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At the top of the turret, a sharp, icy wind was blowing; combined with the already freezing temperature, it made the night watch an even more unbearable torment, at least for Loki, who was crouched in a stone recess on the side of the building facing the mountain. Mizuki, on the other hand, didn't feel the cold, despite keeping watch over the side overlooking the precipice where the tower was embedded, more exposed to the fury of the elements.

To be honest, only her body was in that place, at the mercy of the biting wind. Her soul had abandoned it, seeking refuge in the dimension of memory, floating in an unreal and comforting space, lulled by the sweet echo of that morning's events.

.

"Sannes spilled the beans: the Reiss family is the true royal family, which means that Historia, Rod Reiss's illegitimate daughter, is the rightful heir to the throne."

The kitchen was still immersed in the quiet dimness that precedes dawn; only a faint golden thread of light filtered through the windows, struggling to brighten the room. No sound broke the silence: the recruits were still in bed, and the noises from Hange's squad, busy in the underground chambers, didn't reach that far.

Mizuki, who had frozen mid-motion upon finally hearing the truth about the Reiss family, completed her gesture: she tossed a dry twig, exuding a strong wild scent, into the fireplace; the timid flames eagerly devoured the wood, crackling reassuringly as they sparked. "Damn…" she muttered, grabbing another log from the pile stacked beside the hearth.

"Yeah." Levi took a step back, annoyed by the growing heat of the fire. "Erwin was right on the mark once again."

Right after Sannes's confession, Nifa had been sent to Trost to inform the commander that his theories had been confirmed. Hange had entrusted the prisoners to the rest of her squad and was now resting. Levi, instead, had rushed to the kitchen, knowing he would find Mizuki there: after finishing her night watch, she always came to light the fire and start preparing breakfast. As soon as he spotted her kneeling in front of the fireplace, he called her attention and dropped the bomb.

Using the poker, Mizuki adjusted the twigs that were now burning cheerfully. "Historia… Queen…" she murmured absentmindedly, wondering whether that girl, with her lost and fearful gaze, whose soul bore a deep wound carved by a lack of love, would accept and, more importantly, be capable of shouldering such a responsibility, or if it would crush her instead.

"With her on the throne, we can screw over the Military Police and the nobles, and finally seize the information about the Titans and the world that the Government is keeping hidden. Then, maybe, conquering Shiganshina won't be an impossible feat anymore." Avoiding the heat radiating from the hearth, Levi stepped beside Mizuki. Absentmindedly, he took a lock of her hair, which cascaded down to the middle of her back, and started playing with it, just like she did when she was embarrassed.

"We have to put her on the throne first… And that won't be a walk in the park."

"We're already fighting to survive. We might as well break our backs for something more than just the bare minimum."

"In that case, let's add coffee to the list of things we need to win over."

The ash-blond strand had curled around Levi's finger, but he had stopped paying attention to it, more drawn to Mizuki's figure, just a step away from him. Lately, whenever he looked at her, he couldn't help but remember the intoxicating sensation of her body pressed against his. "You're getting bold…"

Mizuki scoffed, hanging the poker back on its hook. "Oh, please! I already heard from Sasha about the conditions you set for our alliance with Reeves." She turned to him, showing no surprise at finding the captain right behind her, and smiled. The curled lock slipped from Levi's finger, falling softly against her chest. "Too bad even the Reeves Corporation doesn't have any coffee, just that disgusting drink you like so much."

"Still not over it?"

"Not a chance. As long as I live, I'll never settle for drinking dirty water."

Levi picked up the curl again, still warm from his previous touch. "Are you done?"

Mizuki glanced at the wall clock. "I need to make breakfast for the recruits."

"For one morning, the brats can fend for themselves."

"But…"

The captain didn't give her the chance to finish: grabbing her wrist, he pulled her towards the kitchen door, which was closed to keep the newborn fire's warmth from dissipating. In the corner between the entrance and the wall stood a wooden cabinet, about a meter high. Without ceremony, Levi lifted Mizuki onto its surface; she let him do it, amused and intrigued. If someone suddenly opened the door, pushing it against the wall, the cabinet, Mizuki, and Levi would all remain hidden from view, making it the perfect refuge for their passion.

They kissed, her hands pressed against Levi's chest; the captain, wedged between her slightly parted legs like a porcelain doll's, wrapped an arm around her slender waist.

Mizuki pulled back just slightly, her eyes sparkling. "To what do I owe this morning enthusiasm?"

"I made a promise, and I intend to keep it," Levi growled. Without warning her, he unfastened the button of her trousers and, lifting her slightly with one arm, slid them down her thighs to her knees, just enough to expose the white underwear beneath and to settle back between her legs, ensuring himself enough space to maneuver.

Mizuki swallowed, certain that this was the sweet, long-awaited payback for what had happened the night before. "Captain… The others will be waking up soon…"

"We have more than enough time," Levi cut her off, silencing her with a kiss.

As their tongues met in greeting for the first time that day, Levi's fingers trailed down her knee in an agonizingly slow line along her thigh, stopping just at the edge of her underwear. They followed its contours absentmindedly, teasing.

At that contact, Mizuki had goosebumps. When he touched her between her legs, over her damp panties, she held her breath.

"It's true, then," Levi observed, continuing to run his finger over the contours of her sex that could be guessed under the fabric.

When he didn't receive any response from her, he interrupted that intoxicating massage.

"What?" The effort it took her to utter that miserable and colorless reply was immense. Mizuki's body and mind were totally absorbed in the act of savoring the forbidden pleasure that arose from the pressure of Levi's index finger on the opening of her sex.

"You're wet," said the captain, in a lower and deeper tone of voice, and his finger sank into the tender and throbbing flesh.

"Ah! Yes, it's true. Of course it's true…" Mizuki gasped, not caring how the faint, defeated moan that escaped her lips might sound. Since her head was empty and she didn't know how much longer she could remain in an upright position, she grabbed the captain's shoulders with both hands.

Levi pressed a kiss to her mouth and whispered in her ear, "Relax. I've got you."

The exact moment he gave her that order, he expertly pulled her panties aside and entered her.

Only with one finger, of course, but it was as if a small earthquake was unleashed inside her.

A jolt ran through her, making her feel like she was split in half; the pleasure, until then concentrated in the groin, spread in a flash throughout her body: it went up her belly, up to her heart, which contracted and began to beat even more furiously, up to her throat, up to her head, which no longer contained thoughts other than Levi and the pleasure he was giving her; it went down her legs, up to her toes, which stretched out following that electric impulse.

He entered and exited a couple of times, almost with difficulty, because the environment he discovered inside her was so pleasant that it did not encourage abandonment at all: humid, warm, enveloping, pulsating, Mizuki's intimacy seemed ready to swallow him, closing in on him and precluding any way of escape. It was impossible for him not to imagine what it would be like when, finally, they would find the time, the place and the way to perform the complete act undisturbed, and his penis, which would conquer her with slow sweetness, would finally arrive in the earthly and longed-for paradise that was her vagina.

"Does it hurt?"

"No" Mizuki mumbled. Instinctively, she twisted her legs around the man's pelvis, experiencing the illusory and triumphant sensation of having him even closer. "No, continue… do… Ah!"

"You're soaking wet" Levi repeated, and no matter how many times he emphasized that concept, it never seemed to be enough.

"Yes… yes!"

With each new thrust, Mizuki clung more to Levi so as not to slip to the floor. She was immensely grateful to be sitting on a piece of furniture and that he was supporting her with his arm, with calm firmness, without being invasive. Her legs would never have supported her alone, she felt like she was about to faint from the excess of pleasure.

Initially, the captain had penetrated her delicately, calmly, to get her used to this new form of intimacy: his finger entered her, lingered for a moment, never going too deep, and then came out. Then, little by little, he had increased the pace of his incursions, satisfying Mizuki who, with her mouth pressed against Levi's neck, encouraged him with disconnected and broken sentences. So, he stayed inside longer, curled his index finger, with which he began to tickle the spongy and boiling wall that surrounded it; with his thumb, in the meantime, he massaged the clitoris with expert and precise gestures. He groped, experimented, explored, tried: he had learned that every woman was aroused by different stimuli, and with patient dedication he went in search of Mizuki's weak and secret points; when she sank her teeth into his shoulder, holding back a scream, he understood that he had found at least one of them and never left it.

In response, Mizuki arched her back and wriggled as if to trap him, to make him reach a greater depth, seized by a wave of frustration. It was a disjointed and useless movement, since Levi held her firmly by the waist and it was he who was leading the game, a jerk that made her look like a puppet hanging on the wall and moved by a gust of wind.

It was as if everything else about her body, apart from the inside of her legs, had disappeared: Mizuki existed only in and through her sex, awakened by Levi's expert hands; her physical presence in the world only made sense to the extent that it allowed her to be touched by him and to experience the pleasure he gave her.

She remembered she had a mouth only when he covered it with his and kissed her passionately.

"Make me wetter," she begged him, when the captain gave her a moment's respite. She had sensed, from the insistent way in which he had repeated the detail several times, that this was Levi's weak point and his pride as a man, and she would dishonestly appeal to in order to obtain what her body desperately needed, whatever it was.

She hit the mark: granting her plea, the captain withdrew his hand and entered her again, this time with two fingers. Now his movements, in masturbating her, were more violent: abandoning all delicacy and caution, he entered Mizuki's sex with an almost brutal force and thrust, as if he were a seasoned miner, determined to advance into the most hidden and best protected cave in the kingdom, in search of a fairy-tale treasure.

He reached depths, inside her, that she had never reached, when she touched herself, and whose presence she did not even suspect.

Mizuki stiffened. She wasn't just wet: she was on fire.

She was overcome by spasms of pleasure like she had never had before.

She thought she would go crazy with pleasure.

It was an experience too intense, too overwhelming, too absolute to be able to live it and have the crazy presumption of not dying from it.

But that was okay.

Clinging to Levi's chest, with her legs wrapped around his pelvis, Mizuki reached the peak of pleasure and resigned herself to her fate.

The orgasm caught her unprepared: thanks to Jacqueline's advice, during her last attempts at autoeroticism she had managed to push herself, through a series of strenuous attempts, to previously unknown thresholds of sexual satisfaction, but, obviously, the orgasm provoked by Levi had a whole different quality and flavor: to a gush of hot pleasure, which flooded her veins, lit up every nerve ending, sharpened her senses, of an orange color like that of incandescent lava, and to a sensation of torpid well-being, was added a hint of pain that pierced her lower abdomen.

Levi stifled with a kiss the liberating cry that had risen inside her, reaching her lips. He had heard sleepy voices greeting each other, echoing upstairs.

For a moment, when the orgasm withdrew, Mizuki felt as if she had been annihilated. She forgot to breathe, to straighten her back to give herself a minimum of control, to close her legs, to cover herself. She remained with her eyes half-closed, her forehead resting against Levi's, her fingers buried in the shirt that smelled of him.

Levi raised the hand with which he had masturbated her in front of his face. The fingers were wet, covered in a whitish and red substance. "Are you okay?" he asked her, indicating with his chin that improbably colored mixture. And yet, out of the corner of his eye, he never lost sight of her face for an instant, red and soft with pleasure, the expression that always appears in the moments following a satisfying sexual activity. He was aware of being the first human being - and, as far as he was concerned, also the last - who would ever be delighted by such a sight on her face.

Mizuki ordered her neck to bend, it reluctantly obeyed. When she saw the bright red blood dripping from the captain's fingers, however, she became careful. "Does that mean that... Well, it that what I think it is?" she said, torn between a feeling of disappointment at the idea of having lost her virginity for so little and one of hope at the prospect that this, perhaps, would lead the captain to review his absurd policy of self-limitation.

"Yes, but it's only a very small part. It can happen, even if one limits himself to what we just did." Levi took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped himself, incredibly - Mizuki noted - without any grimace of disgust or annoyance.

The girl pushed her hair away from her forehead with an irritated gesture. "You are very knowledgeable. Who has this happened to you with, in the past?" she asked, unable to hide a hint of jealousy, while the mental image of Lydia, his beautiful and very young lover, that she had arbitrarily constructed peeped out at the edges of consciousness.

Of course, by now it was indisputable that the captain had a fair amount of experience behind him, not only in fighting and killing giants, but also in giving pleasure to women; and Mizuki couldn't complain about this at all - not in a credible way, at least - considering the pleasant trembling that still shook her legs. However, she couldn't even pretend that she liked the idea that he had learned those magical and very useful techniques from Lydia.

The steps of the staircase creaked under the weight of the boys who were coming down for breakfast.

Levi understood the reproach in Mizuki's words perfectly, but he ignored it. There was no time to discuss the past; the present was pressing. He leaned over and they exchanged a kiss full of tenderness, like two spouses saying goodbye before sinking into sleep.

"I'm going over there to hold back the brats," he said, stealing a last kiss. "Get yourself sorted out."

Levi freed himself from Mizuki's grip and left the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

She collapsed against the wall. She remained like that for a few moments, with her trousers down, her underwear soaked and slightly pulled aside in plain sight, her arms abandoned against her body, her eyes half-closed, savoring the last remnants of the orgasm that still numbed her body and mind.

Beyond the wall, the captain's authoritative voice resounded, giving instructions to the recruits; so different from the one he had used to ask her, while he was touching her, if and how much wet she was and with which he addressed her in moments of intimacy.

That voice was still Levi's, yet it belonged to Mizuki alone.

It was hers and hers alone; just as the pleased, needy, almost dazed expression that Levi assumed when she touched him and made him feel good was uniquely hers; just as the serene, barely hinted smile that appeared, afterwards, when he held her close and kissed her was hers.

She wanted, selfishly, for all of this to be and remain her exclusive property. The past was now untouchable; but, for the future, she would not tolerate any interference in the relationship with him, by Lydia or other women.

While the guys' sad and plaintive responses to Levi's orders were rising in the room, Mizuki sighed and prepared to face the new day that, in light of Sannes' revelations, promised to be full of complications.

At least, she thought as she re-buttoned her trousers after having cleaned herself up as best as she could with a handkerchief, she couldn't complain about how the day had started.

With a mysteriously satisfied smile on her face, Mizuki went to meet the guys, whose start of the day certainly couldn't be considered positive: in addition to having suffered Levi's scolding, that morning they wouldn't even find breakfast ready and served on the table.

.

In the following hours, each of them, busy with a thousand tasks, went their own way and barely crossed paths. Understandably so, since, like it or not, they were still on the brink of a civil war.

Shortly after breakfast, Levi set things in motion to summon the Reeves Corporation for that evening, when orders from the commander would likely arrive. Mizuki took care of the recruits, who were still unaware of the latest developments; with a heavy heart, she kept her mouth shut and revealed nothing about the shocking discovery concerning Historia, deeming it appropriate for the captain to be the one to address the matter. Hange handled Sannes' transfer to the cell with Ralph; Mizuki wasn't entirely sure what happened next, but after speaking with Eren, the squad leader had jumped on her horse and dashed off to Trost for an urgent meeting with Erwin.

The meeting with Reeves and the recruits was taking place at that very moment in the wooden cabin at the base of the tower, while she and Loki stood guard. Every now and then, the thought crossed Mizuki's mind and occupied it for a moment, but it was soon swept away by other images, mostly tied to a certain corner of the kitchen.

The tower door suddenly burst open.

"Hey, acrobats. Time for the shift change," Keji announced as he stepped inside. He had started calling them that - like many others in the Corps - after the recent spread of stories about Mizuki and her bizarre techniques, which she had shown during the rescue mission.

"Thanks," Loki said, giving him a high five. "The meeting?"

"Over," Klaus replied tersely, already taking Loki's place.

"Everything okay?" Mizuki asked, uneasy.

"There was a scuffle downstairs when the captain revealed Historia Reiss' true identity. The recruits are a bit shaken," Keji informed them in a flat tone.

On the first floor, Loki parted ways with his companion.

"Where are you going?" Mizuki asked.

"To take a piss."

"Thanks for the refined description, your majesty."

"Mpf, I would've been a better candidate than Historia."

With a smirk on her lips, Mizuki continued her descent, removing her cloak, which smelled of dampness, and reached the dark atrium of the first floor. A pool of light, cast from the slight opening of the half-closed kitchen door, split the room in half.

"Seriously now. Does this seem normal to you?"

"No. He's a monster, that's what he is."

"Laying hands on Historia…"

"But with those creep mercenaries, he rolled over and stood on all fours."

A small scuffle. The recruits are a bit shaken. Next time, be a little more specific, Keji, damn it.

Mizuki dragged herself with weary steps to the kitchen and knocked twice on the doorframe to make her presence known. Everyone in the room - the new Special Operations Squad - jumped, certainly horrified at the thought of being caught by the "monster" they had just been complaining about.

When they realized it was 'just' her, they immediately relaxed.

"Mizuki!" Jean exclaimed, outraged. "You have no idea what just happened!"

"I'd say I don't, considering I've been freezing my ass off until now," she replied, leaning her rifle against the wall.

"The captain attacked Historia!"

"Oh, really? Where is he now?"

Ignoring her question, Sasha, Connie, and Jean launched into an indignant and chaotic explanation of what had happened during the meeting. Historia, Armin, Eren, and Mikasa listened in silence, as if unaffected by their companions' outrage.

When the tale ended, Mizuki, who had been listening with her arms crossed and leaning against the kitchen counter, shook her head in dismay and let out a weary sigh.

Sasha pressed her: "Well? Do you realize what he did?"

"I think I do," she said, feigning indifference, though internally cursing Levi and his complete lack of tact.

"And… and you have nothing to say?"

Mizuki pursed her lips. She didn't approve of the captain's methods at all; as soon as she got the chance, she would voice her objections to him, both as a person and as his second-in-command, but she would never betray him in front of the subordinates by openly expressing her dissent. "No, Sasha, I have nothing to say to you, except to ask Historia how she's feeling."

The recruits stared at her in shock, and for the second time in just a few minutes, her request was blatantly ignored.

"You complain about everything the captain does, but you have nothing to say about him nearly choking Historia?!" Jean snapped, voicing the thoughts of the entire group.

"I only complain about ridiculous orders, like cleaning a damn floor for the third time in two days when we're on the brink of a civil war. And in any case, if I have something to say, I don't sit in a kitchen talking behind his back. I face him directly."

At the mere thought, Jean, Connie, and Sasha fell silent.

"Well, that's because you're insane!"

"No, Connie. It's because I know him by now: he's the last person in the world who would take offense if a subordinate argued their point in a constructive way."

Trembling with anger, Sasha clenched her fists.

"Well, then do it! Go tell him off! He can't think he can solve everything with violence!"

But the situation can't be solved with pretty words either, Mizuki thought bitterly, realizing that while the four who had remained silent seemed to have absorbed at least part of her passionate arguments during Sannes' interrogation, for the other three - Jean, Sasha, and Connie - her words had gone in one ear and out the other.

"We don't want to follow someone like that!"

Faced with Connie's last, dramatic statement, Mizuki resolved to change tactics, namely, to disregard the complaints of the three troublemakers and instead address the person directly involved. "Historia. Did he hurt you?" she asked, approaching the table where the girl was seated.

Historia flinched and lifted her blue eyes to Mizuki, who watched her patiently. "No, it's not that he hurt me. But…"

"Good. Were you scared?"

Historia hesitated and remained silent; for Mizuki, that was answer enough.

"I'm really sorry about that. The captain is just like that: despite what he says, he doesn't see you as kids. He treats you the same way he would an adult, recognizing in you the same decision-making capacity and the same responsibilities. If you need anything to help you sleep, or if you start feeling pain anywhere, just let me know."

"Alright…"

Mizuki nervously wetted her lips.

What had the captain said just the night before? That it was too late to protect them now and that their only role could be to guide them along this tortuous path leading to adulthood?

Though she didn't like the idea one bit, she couldn't help but agree with him. The world was rapidly collapsing into ruin, and under such conditions, there was neither time nor space to soften orders with delicate words, nor to hesitate over a decision that, unfortunately, could hardly even be called one, because making a choice presupposed the existence of multiple viable alternatives.

And they had no such alternatives. By now, aside from waging war, the only other option left was death, and she was certain that neither the veterans nor the recruits were willing to resign themselves to that.

With a gentle touch, Mizuki ruffled Historia's hair, brushing it away from her smooth, unblemished forehead. "This could be a great opportunity to gain that strength you've been looking for," she said, deliberately adopting a casual tone.

A glance passed between Historia and Mizuki, bringing them both back to their confrontation atop the walls. Each firmly in their respective roles as subordinate and superior, they faced each other without hostility.

Historia understood that, in essence, if not in form, Mizuki sided with Levi; it almost seemed as though, with her calm acceptance of what had happened, she was silently saying: "Historia, what alternatives do you think you have? Because I don't see many on the table. Either you run outside the walls and hope to survive until you find… whatever it is that lies beyond them, and Ymir, or you stay here. If you stay, your choices narrow even further. You either die, or you embrace what you are and fight for the role that belongs to you. It's not fair, and it's a story that sucks. But this is how things are. So make the most of this opportunity to gain an unparalleled strength: take what is given to you, take everything, take the world for yourself."

From Mizuki, Historia had received, with gratitude, the kind of protection and unconditional affection usually reserved for children. And now, with just as much joy, she welcomed that look and that reflection, through which Mizuki showed that she now considered her an adult and intended to treat her as such. She felt propelled forward by Mizuki. and, she had to admit, by the captain as well - with firm, encouraging pats on the back, pushing her towards the future.

Historia straightened her spine. "Thank you, Vice-Captain. I'll keep that in mind."

Mizuki nodded, then turned to Jean, Sasha, and Connie, who had been watching the scene with rather puzzled expressions; to their ears, Mizuki's words had sounded profoundly cryptic and, above all, completely out of place. "With that, I hope the complaints will be put to rest for now."

Hands planted on her hips, Mizuki challenged her subordinates with a stare, daring them to defy her order. No one, however, made a move. As had happened recently, the vice-captain had adopted, in a moment of difficulty, an attitude identical to that of Captain Levi, and that alone was enough to intimidate the recruits and stifle any rebellious impulse before it could even begin. Mizuki let a few more moments of silence pass, then asked again: "So, where's the captain now?"

Following Mikasa's precise directions, Mizuki descended into the underground levels and made her way to the room with the long hazelwood meeting table. As she entered, Levi, seated in the chair directly facing the door, lifted his narrow, sharp eyes to her; in the dim light, his gray irises glinted.

"Hey, sunshine. They're talking all kinds of crap about you upstairs, you know? You really outdid yourself this time," Mizuki remarked with a half-smile, somewhere between amused and accusatory.

"I figured," the captain replied, sounding utterly disinterested. Then he gave a slight nod towards the burly figure seated beside him, someone Mizuki hadn't noticed at first. Not that it was surprising: given how focused she'd been on Levi, she probably wouldn't have noticed even if a Titan had been crouching under the table.

"This is Dimo Reeves, head of the Reeves Corporation. This girl is the vice-captain of the Special Operations Squad."

"I'm Mizuki Onizuka, pleasure to meet you…"

The moment he laid eyes on her, Dimo Reeves shot to his feet, albeit with some difficulty. He was a large man with a prominent belly that curved into a round dome, a bald spot on the top of his head, and sparse tufts of dark auburn hair, almost ebony, that covered the back of his skull.

Mizuki shifted uncomfortably. Their new ally was staring at her with such intense scrutiny that it bordered on rudeness, to the point where even Levi, who was usually indifferent to social etiquette, furrowed his brows.

"I know you!" Dimo Reeves suddenly burst out, jabbing a thick, ringed finger at Mizuki.

"Excuse me?" she replied, caught off guard.

"Yes! I remember you! You're that girl who, a few months ago, got into a brawl with a group of gendarmes in a tavern in Orvud!"

"What the hell is this about?" Levi hissed.

Mizuki instantly paled, feeling the captain's suspicious gaze settle on her.

"He's confusing me with someone else…" she somehow managed to say.

"Impossible! I'll never forget you! You yanked down that bastard Jones' trousers in front of the whole tavern and even stole his archive keys!" Dimo Reeves slung an arm around Mizuki's shoulders in a comradely manner. "Serves that asshole right! You have no idea how much I enjoyed that! To this day, I bet he still has no clue where those damn keys went. I don't think anyone, aside from me, even noticed that while you were pulling his trousers down, you also swiped them! A real masterpiece, kid."

.

"I was investigating the kidnappings of the people brought to Tiburtina".

"In this office? How the hell did you get in?"

"Earlier I was having a beer in a tavern, and I heard some soldiers talking about their work at the archive. When they got up from the table, I noticed under the chair a forgotten set of keys, and so ... in short, since I was here to investigate, I took advantage of it."

.

"I remembered things happening a little differently." Levi narrowed his eyes dangerously. The degree to which his eyes were open always indicated the level of his irritation, and at that moment, he had squinted so much that he looked on the verge of falling asleep.

"I have no idea what this man is talking about," declared Mizuki, who had tensed up the moment Dimo Reeves had slapped her on the shoulder.

"Tsk. We'll talk about this again soon."

Desperately trying to steer the conversation towards any topic other than her performance in Orvud, Mizuki turned to the burly man and asked: "Rather, what were you doing there? Aren't you a merchant from Trost?"

"Ah, yes, exactly, I was on a business trip!" Dimo Reeves slumped onto the wooden chair, which creaked ominously under his considerable weight. He pulled a cigar from the pocket of his shirt. "I was passing through Orvud, on my way to visit a rather important client."

Levi and Mizuki were barely listening anymore. While he lit the cigar with a lighter, inhaled deeply and lazily exhaled puffs of gray smoke, the two of them were engaged in a silent battle of eyes, accusations and justifications passing between them, already savoring the moment when, once alone, they would turn the argument into a passionate kiss.

That was why they barely noticed the additional words muttered in a low, hoarse voice by Dimo Reeves: "Yeah. Earl Wilinski has always been a demanding client... Said our cigars were the only ones he could smoke."

A brief silence followed. Still staring at each other, Levi and Mizuki widened their eyes in unison, then simultaneously turned them towards the stout man enjoying his cigar, oblivious to the storm he had just triggered in his listeners.

"Excuse me," Mizuki said after a moment of hesitation, sure she had misheard. "Did you say Wilinski?"

Dimo Reeves exhaled a smoke ring from his thick lips. "I said Wilinski. Why?"

Another astonished glance passed between the two soldiers before Levi took control of the situation. He waved his hand sharply to disperse the cloud of smoke thickening around Reeves and sat down in front of him. "Tell me everything you know about Wilinski."

For the first time since the conversation began, the man showed signs of surprise and suspicion, but he was quick to mask them, just as any seasoned merchant would. "Why are you interested? Wilinski has nothing to do with the First Interior Squad or the Reiss family."

"That doesn't matter. We're interested in him, and that should be enough for you. We have a collaboration agreement, so you need to provide us with all the information you have."

"Please," added Mizuki, trying to soften her companion's bluntness.

"If you're the one asking, the girl who humiliated that bastard Jones, I can't exactly say no." Reeves stubbed out his cigar under the heel of his shoe and grinned at Mizuki, revealing two solid gold teeth set among his natural ones, of an unpleasant yellowish hue due to excessive smoking and poor diet. "It's true what I said, that Earl Wilinski appreciated the cigars sold by the Reeves Corporation. As much as I'd love to tell you it was because of the quality of our products that he had chosen us as his trusted supplier, the truth is different. He and my father knew each other when they were young; that's why he was our loyal customer. For as long as I can remember, I've always been around the Wilinski family. When he visited his friend and client, my father always took me along. As a kid, even though I hated accompanying my old man on his business trips, I couldn't wait to go to the Wilinskis'. The Earl's residence always seemed like a magical house to me, like the ones described in fairy tales. And, from a young age, I formed a deep bond with his daughter, whom I adored. Eva Wilinski..."

Dimo Reeves paused. As he spoke of her, his keen, shrewd eyes softened, making him look at least ten years younger.

"One of the most beautiful and kind-hearted women I've ever met. Adored? No, that's the wrong word. I didn't just adore her; I loved her. How much I loved her! Then again, among those who knew her, who hadn't fallen for her? Eva was special... So beautiful, gentle, caring, worshipped to the point of madness by her father. Yes, old Wilinski venerated her. And yet, she was a sad, lonely, melancholic creature... But I'm digressing, I think."

"No!" Mizuki blurted out, her throat dry. "No, please, tell me: what happened to Eva Wilinski?"

The man didn't answer immediately. "She's dead. A long time ago" he finally dais.

"How?"

Even though Mizuki's whisper had barely been audible, Dimo Reeves replied: "I never found out. All I know is that her father nearly lost his mind from grief."

Silence once again filled the room. Reeves hunched his shoulders; just as the memory of Eva Wilinski had momentarily made him look younger, the realization that she no longer existed in this world added years to his face, making him appear even older and more dejected than before.

Levi and Mizuki, struck by the same realization, suppressed their excitement and exchanged a knowing look: thanks to a completely offhand remark from a merchant who had only recently become their ally, they had just solved one of the most intricate and enigmatic mysteries surrounding Wilinski, the absurd and tragic story narrated in that anonymous book, the tragedy of a father and his lost son, who, in reality, had been a daughter: the beautiful and sorrowful Eva Wilinski.

"Hey, boss," Levi called out, breaking the rich yet silent exchange between him and Mizuki. "You said you were on your way to Wilinski's house when you got caught up in the chaos caused by the troublemaker here."

"Yes..."

"Then you know where it is. His house, I mean. Tell us how to get there."

Dimo Reeves sniffled and pulled another cigar from his shirt pocket. "That depends. Now that my father and his daughter are gone, my relationship with the Earl is mostly business, but Wilinski still has in me a loyal friend. What do you want from him?"

"It's rather complicated and lengthy to explain, and we don't have time. I can only assure you that we have no hostile intentions towards the Earl, but we fear for his safety," Mizuki interjected, cutting off Levi's response before it even began. She lied without the slightest remorse: now that she was finally so close to catching him, she wouldn't allow anything or anyone in the world to stand between her and Wilinski.

Reeves studied the serious, determined expression on the girl's face for a few moments, with the same scrutiny he would use at the market to assess a batch of grain or a mule some farmer was trying to pawn off on him. Perhaps, with his merchant's sharpness, he suspected that Mizuki was hiding something; but she was evidently skilled enough to conceal the deep resentment she harbored towards Wilinski, because less than twenty minutes later, she and Levi left the basement, armed with a map and detailed directions on how to reach Wilinski's hideout.

They rushed to the second floor, searching for Lavinia, who, in the absence of Erwin and Hange, was the closest thing to a leader around.

Mizuki heard a strange creaking sound coming from the first door in the hallway. She frowned. Theoretically, no one should have been on the upper floor except for Lavinia, who was supposed to be writing a brief report to send to Erwin before the plan was set in motion. The rest of the group had been assigned various tasks in preparation for departure, all of which needed to be carried out in the basement or the stables. That was why she threw the door open without knocking, certain she would find Lavinia hunched over a desk, her thick, glossy black hair tied back in a rushed ponytail; that was why she barged inside before Levi, who had instantly recognized the very particular sound of bed slats straining under the weight of entwined bodies, could stop her.

"What the…?"Mizuki exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks.

Levi found that he had fully understood what was happening in the room.

As the door swung open, Jacqueline and Flegel Reeves, completely naked, turned suddenly. They had been interrupted just as things were getting heated: the woman, straddling her partner, her ample breasts, freed from her bra, bouncing with every movement, had been rocking up and down, making him slide inside her with slow, sensual rolls of her hips.

Mizuki froze, staring at them as if petrified.

"Oh, hey, Mizuki!" Jacqueline greeted her cheerfully, blowing her a playful kiss.

"AAHHH!" Snapping out of it, Mizuki slapped her hands over her eyes. "No! No! No! Why did this have to happen? My eyes… they burn… I'm going to go blind… I didn't want to see… No, I didn't see anything!"

"Tsk. Get out of here, brat." Levi grabbed her by the shoulders and unceremoniously shoved her back into the hallway. Then he shot a fiery glare at the two lovers, who - Flegel, especially - had at least the decency to cover themselves with the sheet. "And you two, put your damn clothes on! This isn't a damn brothel!" And he angrily slammed the door shut, which closed with a deafening thud, making the hinges and the wall shake.

Lavinia, who had been in the room next door, peeked into the hallway. It only took a glance at Mizuki, half in the throes of a nervous breakdown, her face buried in her hands, and at Levi, visibly fuming, for her to guess exactly what had just happened.

"Good thing you took care of it, Captain," she remarked dryly, welcoming Mizuki into her arms. "Those two were making a hell of a racket." She then added, in the tone of someone who was fully aware of the reason but was itching to say it aloud: "I still can't understand how they ended up in bed together, considering they only met an hour ago."

Levi turned his attention to Lavinia. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for her to go back inside. "We were looking for you. We need to talk."

An hour later, Mizuki and Loki, backpacks slung over their shoulders and cloaks fastened at their necks, stood before their comrades, one hand resting on the manes of their respective horses.

After a long discussion, it had been decided that they would be the ones to track down Wilinski. They would manage somehow, even though there were only two of them and they had no idea how the old noble would receive them or what awaited them at his residence. After all, they were soldiers, ninja, trained to fight against other human beings, unlike most of the other members of the Survey Corps.

After the discussion, Levi had informed the recruits and Jacqueline of the sudden change of plans, and then reached Mizuki who was getting ready to leave. He had found her sitting cross-legged on the floor - a sight that had drawn a look of pure disgust from him at the thought that the floor had only been washed the day before. She was surrounded, fortress-like, by her open backpack, scattered belongings, clothes, and weapons. Overcoming his revulsion, the captain asked: "Are you sure about this?"

Mizuki tilted her head slightly. Despite the vagueness of the question, she understood perfectly what he meant. Levi had explained Erwin's plan to her before anyone else, which involved luring in their pursuers by delivering Historia, Eren, and Lavinia to the Military Police's Interior Squad through Dimo Reeves. That Mizuki had agreed to leave her friend's side at such a crucial moment was so unlikely that it raised doubts about whether she would truly follow through.

"Of course I know what I'm doing," she replied calmly. "I'm entrusting Lavinia to you. I'm only doing this because Wilinski has slipped through our fingers for too long and, most of all, because the person protecting my Lav is you. I wouldn't trust anyone else in the world."

And with that, she went back to packing her few belongings into her backpack.

After the preparations, the entire household gathered outside for hurried, nervous goodbyes to the two ninjas about to depart.

The younger soldiers stared at Mizuki in disbelief, lost, their expressions akin to those of someone who had just suffered the worst kind of betrayal and, in a way, it was exactly like that: the vice-captain had burst into their lives, with her vitality and light-heartedness, only recently, and yet her strong, reliable, reassuring presence had already taken root in them naturally, like a plant that has dug its roots into soft soil, ready to welcome it, and the boys placed blind, almost religious trust in her; the news of Mizuki's sudden departure left them with an unsettling sensation of having just lost their anchor.

With her gone, the only officer left on-site would be Captain Levi, and given the recent turn of events, more than a few of them had reservations about following his lead.

Hugging a visibly tense Lavinia tightly, Mizuki whispered in her ear a message meant for them alone: Until the day I die...

After pulling away from her friend, she wrapped an arm around Eren and Historia, pressing their faces against her shoulders, suffocating Historia and forcing Eren to bend down to her height. "Take care of yourselves, guys. I know things are difficult right now, but don't let it weigh you down. I'll be back as soon as possible, but even so, I'm not worried: I know I'm leaving you in good hands. The captain will take care of you. Always listen to what he says and follow his orders."

Before mounting Ronnie, Mizuki sought out Levi's gaze, smiled at him, and silently mouthed their ritual phrase: I will survive.

Levi clenched his hands, which remained buried in his pockets. "No bullshit," he muttered, completely ignoring Connie's raised eyebrow, Sasha's grimace, Jean's pursed lips, and the fact that they would surely misinterpreted the exchange, because no one - except for him and her - could understand what those words truly meant.

Mizuki swung onto Ronnie with a smooth motion, adjusted herself in the saddle, and pressed the heels of her boots into the horse's sides.

Ronnie reared up with a sharp neigh.

The two horses galloped off and were soon swallowed by the darkness.

OOO

.

Mountains of the Trost District

Dimo Reeves wipes his hands on his pants.

He has just finished smearing mud on the prisoners' cheeks and clothes.

It is necessary to make it look like they have been locked up for two days.

That was the story they had fed to the ones behind the kidnapping.

The infamous Interior Squad of the Military Police.

The merchant coughs, his chest aching.

For a fleeting moment, he thinks of his wife's stern warnings.

She is right: smoking is slowly killing his lungs.

Once this ugly business is over, he will have to quit cigarettes.

He shakes his head and refocuses on the present.

"But Miss… Oh, I mean, Your Majesty."

Historia looks at him with wide, deer-like eyes.

"Your boss is a scary man, but… Well, he's not a bad guy. Once you become queen, give him a good whack and just dare him to hit you back"

The girl doesn't look convinced in the slightest, though she says nothing.

Eren, on the other hand, that restless brat who can never stay still or shut up, bursts into laughter.

"That'd be good! Right? Try it, Historia! I' wonder what kind of face he would make. I'm sure Miss Mizuki would find this hilarious!"

The idea amuses Lavinia, the third so-called prisoner.

"That old bastard would have it coming".

Dimo Reeves studied her for a moment.

She is a woman, not a girl like Historia Reiss.

Despite their small age difference, Lavinia is a woman.

A breathtakingly beautiful one, with a mind sharp as a needle.

A woman who stirs something in Dimo Reeves' memory.

With her black hair, coal-colored eyes, ivory skin…

The merchant unconsciously links those features to a face from his past.

Admiring them brought him a strange sense of comfort.

Whoever the ghost of that face belongs to, they must have been important to him.

For that reason, he treats Lavinia with more deference and care than the others.

Dimo Reeves continues instructing the prisoners.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye - his twitching eye - he never loses sight of the young woman.

She awakens something warm and soothing in him.

It has nothing to do with desire.

He is too old to fall for anyone.

And besides, he is faithful to his wife.

But looking at Lavinia is like a balm for his weary, corrupted soul.

It fills him with a peace and courage he has never known.

A feeling that doesn't die even when the men from the Interior Squad arrive.

Not even when Dimo Reeves follows their leader towards the cave's entrance.

And yet, he can't help himself.

Before stepping outside, he casts one last glance at Lavinia.

She meets his gaze.

She is staring at him with dark eyes full of sorrow.

And finally, Dimo Reeves connects past and present.

Two faces overlap…

A phantom's face and the face of the young woman in chains.

"Eva…"

That name, never truly forgotten, slips from his lips.

It is still there, when Kenny Ackerman slits his throat in one clean stroke.

.

Chlorba District

News traveled incredibly fast within the Walls.

"Special edition! After the atrocious and heinous murder of Duke Tennison, the Survey Corps is now suspected of assassinating the merchant Dimo Reeves of Trost! Read all the details in our special report!"

Mizuki couldn't help but find it amusing the way everyone, from journalists to soldiers to common citizens, now spoke of them, the Survey Corps members, as if they were a single collective entity, a being within which the soldiers had merged and mixed, losing their individuality to acquire a common conscience, in the name of which the consequences of the crime committed by just one of them had to fall, fearful and tremendous, without distinction, on the entire group.

Only after she snatched a newspaper from a distracted matron - who was busy commenting on the news with her neighbors - and read the article to the very end did Mizuki allow herself to breathe.

Of course, discovering that the murder victim was Dimo Reeves, the opulent, jovial old man who had become their ally, was not pleasant news. For a brief moment, however, as she had listened to the newsboys' cries, Mizuki had feared that their enemies had found and eliminated - and then pinned the blame for the deed on the Survey Corps - Clayton Tennison or little Theo, so reading that those two were not involved in the recent crime lifted a weight from her chest.

Weaving through the crowd gathered in the park around the newspaper vendors, Loki materialized at Mizuki's side. "I bought supplies for the next few days and scouted the walls," he reported. "The north-facing side is poorly guarded, we can easily climb over and cross to the other side. Also, I paid a farmer a few coins to take our horses through the gate."

"Are you sure he can be trusted?"

"No doubt about it. That guy's desperate. Poverty has made him deaf to the Authorities' appeals."

Mizuki nodded, swallowing down the unease that came with exploiting someone else's misfortune. She glanced one last time at the bold, capitalized headline that took up nearly the entire front page of the newspaper.

I hope everyone's okay…

She stared at the inked letters as if they could answer her.

As if they could dispel the gnawing dread in her chest.

The black ink gleamed on the white page, forming words that were taunting and indifferent, mute in their terrible, objective truth.

Mizuki abandoned the newspaper on the nearest bench she passed.

.

Stohess

The kids wait for the signal.

They are nervous, the slightest sound is enough to make them jump..

They stand in a side street, one rarely frequented.

Hats on their heads, hoods pulled low over their faces.

If anyone recognizes them, it will be over.

Assuming there is still any hope left for them.

The world around them is crumbling.

One by one, the solid certainties of childhood collapse.

The values they have learned during training unravel.

Friends turn into enemies.

The future grows darker, more suffocating.

The road ahead splits in two, forcing a choice upon them.

Which path should they take?

What is right and what is wrong?

What is the Survey Corps' idea of justice?

And, above all what is their justice, the one Mizuki has spoken of?

Jean, Connie, and Sasha are confused.

But they know one thing for sure.

No matter what happens, they completely disagree with Captain Levi.

With what he says, with what he does, with who he is.

They can't understand why Mizuki trusts him.

They have tried to understand, to justify, to deny, but it was all useless.

As absurd as it seems, the truth remains unchanged.

Mizuki believes in Captain Levi.

She believes in him blindly, absolutely, unquestionably.

She would die for him.

Even if she hasn't said it outright, she has taken his side after that scene with Historia.

And now she is gone, leaving them in his hands.

Mikasa and Armin, on the other hand, have a different opinion.

They have already chosen their side.

"Damn it."

Jean clenched his fists.

"What are we supposed to do? What's the right thing to do?"

Mizuki has urged them to think and choose for themselves.

She has made it sound so simple.

But deciding what is right and following it to the end, is anything but simple.

In truth, it is the hardest thing in the world.

The thing most adults fail to do.

The thing that terrifies the young.

The thing that bring pain.

As always, reality is what shatters the group's fragile balance.

It sweeps them up, steals their time, throws their plans into disarray.

Suddenly, in the distance, a gunshot rings out.

It is time to choose.

"Yo, Levi. You're all grown up, huh?"

It is rare for Levi to be caught off guard.

In his entire life, it has only happened a handful of times.

And most of those, come to think of it, have involved her.

When Mizuki headbutted him.

When she rolled, unarmed, right beneath a Titan before his very eyes.

When she asked him to make her a woman.

When she slipped her hand into his trousers during the Lagnar expedition.

When she gave him the most intense orgasm of his life, with just one damn hand.

But this is different.

She has nothing to do with it.

She is far away.

This fact, which previously worried him, now brings him relief.

Thank God she's not here.

Because he is.

Kenny Ackerman.

Nothing reassures Levi more than knowing Mizuki is absent.

That she is nowhere near the Ripper.

That Kenny Ackerman will never know she exists.

That thought passes through his mind in the fraction of a second it takes for the enemy to fly over the watchtower.

Deep down, Levi already knows it is Kenny.

He knows it even before coming face to face with him.

Before Kenny speaks.

Before he attacks.

And then, there he is, in front of Levi.

Guns drawn, eyes locked onto his prey.

He appears with the same ease with which, years ago, he had vanished from Levi's life.

"You haven't really changed much, huh?!"

"KENNY!"

The cry that tears from Levi's throat says everything.

.

The bottle shatters with a deafening crash as the chair strikes it.

Kenny has never been one for delicacy.

He is the kind of man who would destroy an entire bar just for the hell of it.

Simply because he finds it fun.

Shards of glass rain down on Levi.

But he doesn't move.

He is waiting for the right moment.

In the meantime, he humors Kenny, letting him chase his illusions.

"Our shitty selves and our shitty lives had no meaning at all. However, there was salvation".

Levi turns one of the bottles lined up on the shelf.

"We found things we wanted to do. Simple, right?"

The green glass reflects a distorted image of Kenny.

His body still fit despite his age.

His salt-and-pepper hair.

His grizzled beard.

His drawn gun, his raised chair.

That ridiculous hat of his.

Unbelievable as it seems, the glass even captures the unease that has always devoured him.

"It's simple, but what really gives life meaning are 'hobbies.'"

That unease Levi has glimpsed is as a child, without ever understanding it.

"Hobbies, huh… Blowing away the heads of my subordinates, is that your hobby as well?"

Yes, Kenny has always been a restless man, forever searching for something.

And the more he sought it without finding it, the more violent, furious, and rebellious he became.

"Ah, I'll kill as many as it takes, all for the sake of a bigger goal".

The moment has come.

Levi's body tenses, ready for action.

Kenny is ready to throw the chair and lets his guard down.

"Who knows, maybe I could blow your little girl's head off too. What do you think?"

For the second time in less than five minutes, Levi is caught off guard.

The arms holding his rifle stiffen.

He is frozen in place.

"I'm talking about that short, curly-haired brat with a bit of an attitude. You know the one, right? She's not here, is she? How's she doing?"

How the fuck does he know about her?

About them.

About what bond them together.

Levi is not a man who lets himself get rattled.

But this time, panic gets the better of him.

This is a problem.

A fucking problem.

"Ah! So far, she's been doing fine, huh? But, you see, a little bird told me she had the brilliant idea of tracking down Wilinski… Ever since he reached out to you a few days ago, the Earl's been on our radar. We've been looking for him for a while, truth be told, but we had no idea where he was hiding. And yet he was stupid enough to give himself away when he sent a servant to contact you; by a stroke of luck, the mercenaries I hired to look for you got suspicious and started chasing him, and now we know where he is! Funny, huh?".

Kenny would use anything to break him.

Even her.

Even their bond.

Hurting her meant hurting him.

"My boys, the ones tailing Wilinski, they don't hold back. They might run into your little girl… Oh, they'll have fun with her. A lot of fun. Hope you didn't get too attached."

Levi snaps out of it.

Kenny's first lessons comes rushing back, the most important ones.

Never get distracted in a fight.

Never let the enemy manipulate you.

Take down your target at all costs.

That is exactly what Kenny is trying to do with him.

He wants to take Levi down, his prey, by throwing him off balance.

And he is damn good at it.

The moment Mizuki has come up in the conversation, Levi lost his grip.

He takes a deep breath.

Presses the rifle to his chest.

It doesn't make him forget the danger looming over Mizuki.

But at least, it steadies him.

There is nothing he can do now but trust her.

She is strong, she is skilled, she is sharp.

She's a soldier, she's a ninja.

A stubborn brat who always keeps her promises.

And she promised him she would survive.

That she would come back to him.

Levi checks the reflection in the bottle again.

Kenny is about to strike, but Levi is faster.

He slams the rifle, upside down, against the counter.

"Oh, yeah? Too bad for them."

Aiming through the bottle's reflection, Levi fires.

He hits his mark.

.

Trost District

Erwin Smith wears his uniform impeccably, as always.

Even when in a hurry or in danger, he dresses with care.

He is a young man of elegance and refinement.

The citizens of Trost watch him warily.

They have known him well for five years.

Since he became the fearless and brilliant Commander of the Survey Corps.

They have seen him march at the head of his soldiers countless times.

They have followed his many expeditions beyond the Walls with their eyes and their hearts.

Despite the insults and criticism, deep down, they have always admired him.

Now, they are shaken by anger and grief.

How could he deceive them like this?

The Military Police have just accused him of treason.

The men under his command have committed crimes against society.

Among them, the murder of Dimo Reeves.

His lifeless body lies cold and rigid at Erwin's feet, covered by a black cloth.

And as their Commander, Erwin is held responsible.

But Erwin Smith does not waver.

His gaze does not falter, does not cloud, does not tremble.

His voice is clear and strong.

With measured calm, he professes his intent to track down those responsible and see them punished.

Implicitly, he is declaring his soldiers' innocence.

Yet the civilians sense that is not the core of his speech.

"I will definitely erase these regrets."

He says it looking straight into the eyes of Reeves' widow and daughter.

Erwin Smith is promising to bring justice to the murdered merchant.

It is a silent, solemn vow.

His unwavering certainty casts doubt into the hearts of Trost's people.

As Erwin Smith is led away by the Military Police, they ponder deeply.

Can a man who speaks such words truly have a stained conscience?

Can a man who looks at them with such eyes truly be guilty?

.

Somewhere around Stohess

They are all gathered around the fire.

Inside a filthy, disgusting stable.

Levi, the recruits.

All of them somehow still alive and relatively unscathed.

The worst wounds are the ones on the inside.

Levi has reached his limit, in more ways than one.

The dirt of the place disgusts him.

A splitting headache hammers at his skull.

It hasn't given him a break since they escaped Stohess.

And now, on top of everything, his knee is hurting again, too.

If the brat ever finds out, it will be the end.

Not for a second did he doubt that she is still alive.

That Kenny's "boys" have gotten the better of her.

The very thought is so intolerable he can't even formulate it.

Instead, he lets his mind wander in another direction.

To how she will be pissed about his knee.

To how she will listen when he tells her about Kenny.

To how her eyes will light up with understanding and warmth.

To how she will hold him.

To how her hot, wet body would take him in.

At that point, he cuts himself off.

Not the time to be fantasizing.

Levi focuses back on his subordinates.

Jean is talking, spilling out his thoughts.

What happened at Stohess has shaken him.

His hesitation, Armin pulling the trigger.

The storm inside him clouds everything, making it impossible to see what is right.

"Captain Levi. I… I thought that your way of doing things was wrong. No… that's what I wanted to think, because I was afraid of hurting other people."

Levi listens carefully.

Again, his mind drifts to the brat.

To how much he wishes she were there with him, having this conversation with the recruits.

"I was the one who was mistaken. Next time, I'll definitely shoot."

If she were here, everything would be easier.

For one, his anxiety would disappear.

And then, she would be the one leading the discussion with the brats.

She has always been better with words than him.

She has a remarkable way of understanding people.

And an equally sharp ability to pick the right words to express herself.

Precise, effective, never overbearing.

Levi is rougher.

Less delicate, more blunt, more ruthless.

"Yeah… Your softness put us in a bad spot".

A perfect example of why dealing with people isn't his strong suit.

"I'm sorry…"

The brat would be much better suited for this.

She would know how to guide this ragtag group of kids.

And yet…

"But what's done is done."

And yet, Levi knows that she and he, at the core, think the same way.

"I won't say what's right or not, because I don't know, either. Were you really mistaken?"

Probably, she would have said it with other words.

More thoughtfully, healthier, less gut-wrenching.

But the message would have been the same.

Because they both know that growing up is hard.

That when it came to life's biggest decisions, everyone is alone.

That the only thing adults can do is offer guidance and unconditional support.

Jean's eyes widen.

He stares at Levi, stunned, for a long moment.

Then he jolts.

"Ah… Mizuki said something like that too… I mean, not exactly. She worded it differently, but…"

Jean lowers his head, clenches his fists.

"She told me to always think for myself…"

Levi lets out the faintest sigh.

Even from a distance, somehow, she still find a way to help him.

"She's a mess, but her head works just fine."

You are alone in life's defining moments.

She believes it, he believes it.

But every once in a while, you get lucky enough to meet the right traveling companion.

Someone who has your back even when everything seems lost.

Jean drops his gaze, says nothing more.

He finally seems to have settled down.

Levi relaxes as well.

For tonight, he has done his job.

He tilts his head back, staring at the night sky.

Now, there is only one thing missing.

Come back, brat.

Come back to me.

As fast as you can.

.

Trost

The small stone room was filled with a sharp, pungent smell, reminiscent of vegetables forgotten and left to rot for weeks inside a cupboard. When they had entered, Jacqueline had tried in vain to trace its source; in the end, she had been forced to accept the obvious, that the stench wasn't coming from any one particular object but had seeped into the walls and floor, becoming an integral and inseparable part of them. This meant resigning herself to living with that nauseating odor for as long as she stayed in the room, which was easier said than done: even though she was no longer a noble, Jacqueline's nose was still accustomed to the sweet, pleasant scents that had once filled the residence of Duke Tennison, the now-burned-down palace of which only ashes and rubble remained. Even after fleeing home and changing her way of life, indulging her sense of smell had been the one luxury she had never managed to give up: she spent a fortune on scented bottles to perfume her surroundings, expensive fragrances she dabbed on her wrists and neck, and flowers she used to decorate her home, inhaling their fragrant aroma whenever she passed by them.

Flegel, who had led her to this hideout, had tried to justify its state. "During the attack on Trost, the family living down here died, and… their bodies weren't removed for several days…"

Jacqueline turned her head away. She would have preferred not to know that.

Flegel sat on the floor, as the room had been stripped of all its furniture: the looters had taken everything, not even a broken chair had been spared from that plunder.

Standing beside him, her back against the wall, Jacqueline smoked in silence.

She savored each drag with the serene expression of a woman ready to die without regrets. Cigarettes had always been one of her bad habits - or rather, just another method to calm her nerves - but unlike her love for perfumes, it was a habit she hadn't been able to indulge since her escape. Tobacco was far too expensive for someone like her, a first-time waitress and then a budding merchant, to afford.

The two were waiting for Hange and Moblit to return.

After Commander Smith's arrest, Hange had tracked down and taken Flegel into custody; Jacqueline had later joined them in Trost. Once reunited, they had tried to assess the situation of the Survey Corps from different angles, with disastrous results. The more they dissected the matter, the clearer it became that there was no hope left for them: Erwin Smith was accused of high treason, with a death sentence hanging over his head; Levi and the others were suspected of murdering Reeves, an act they hadn't committed, as well as some MPs in Stohess; there was no sign of Mizuki and Loki, who had been missing for two days; the public stood with the Government; the nobles and the King were determined to wipe out, once and for all, that group of parasites infesting the Walls.

And yet, Hange refused to give up: despite the turmoil shaking the cities of the inner territories, places that had always been hostile to the Survey Corps, she had gone to Stohess with Moblit, hoping to convince a journalist to defy government censorship and write an article containing even a single shred of truth.

Jacqueline Tennison was as far from a soldier as one could imagine; she despised hierarchy, duty, orders, structure. She wasn't officially a member of the Survey Corps, yet she had understood its essence better than most.

The Survey Corps had known nothing but defeat throughout its history. And yet, it had never surrendered. Never. And it never would, until the very end.

Without even realizing it, Jacqueline had absorbed that way of facing life. The closeness to Mizuki had slowly infused it into her soul.

Flegel suddenly lifted his head. The silence and stillness of the room were becoming unbearable. He sniffed the air. "Are those our cigarettes?" he asked, just to say something.

A small gray cloud of smoke escaped Jacqueline's slightly parted lips, thickening in front of her face and obscuring it from view. "Yes," she replied, lowering her hand to flick the cigarette ash. "A gift from your father, when he came to the hideout to arrange the delivery of Eren, Historia, and Lavinia."

"I recognized the smell of our tobacco," Flegel said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Our supplies weren't big; after Shiganshina fell, the fields were seized for wheat production. We only sold to select customers. The Reeves Corporation had one of the finest tobaccos around."

"It's impressive, I'll admit," Jacqueline conceded. A brief silence passed before she continued: "Your father was a great man. I was truly sorry to hear of his death. You know, before this whole civil war mess broke out, and before someone had the frankly distasteful idea of accusing me of my father's murder, I was a merchant. Or rather, I was trying to break into the business, with mixed success. And before that, I was a duchess… but that's another story."

Along with the ideology of the Survey Corps, Jacqueline had also inherited Mizuki's tendency to complicate even the simplest conversations.

Flegel's mouth fell open. It was hard to believe Jacqueline Tennison was telling the truth. He saw nothing noble in this woman dressed in men's clothing - tight dark pants and a skimpy gray shirt, with more buttons undone than done up - who smoked, used language bordering on vulgar, and had dragged him into bed to have sex within ten minutes of their first meeting.

"Your father was a legend in the business. People told incredible stories about him, about how he managed to rise again after the disaster in Shiganshina. I spoke with him at the hideout when you came to pick up Lavinia and the others. He even proposed we go into business together once this civil war nonsense was over," Jacqueline said in an offhanded tone, as if she were discussing the most trivial matter rather than the fate of their world. "A real shame."

"You could still do business with the Reeves Corporation, even though he's gone…" Flegel suggested hesitantly, his eyes fixed on her ample chest, that pulled at the fabric of her blouse. "I'd never turn you, away" he specified.

Jacqueline crushed the cigarette butt under the heel of her boot. "I thought Hange told me your plan from now on was to hide somewhere until some overzealous gendarme trips over your foot in a backwater village and shoots you dead. Am I wrong?"

"…"

Jacqueline's cruel prophecy shut Flegel up.

She let her head fall back against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt exhausted. The lack of news and updates was eating away at her. For the umpteenth time, she wondered about the fate of her brother and Mizuki.

"Uhm… Miss…"

"Yes?" Jacqueline replied upon hearing Flegel's awkward attempt to restart the conversation.

"What do you look for in a man?"

The question intrigued her enough that she cracked open one eye to study the young man crouched on the floor. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Flegel hesitated, searching for the right words to express his thoughts. "What does a man need to have to deserve a date with you?"

Jacqueline burst into laughter, without any malice, but making no effort to hide how absurd she found his question. "We've already slept together, sweetheart. Isn't that enough for you?"

Flegel blushed to the tips of his ears but didn't back down. "No. I want more. I want a date."

Still chuckling, Jacqueline folded her arms under her impressive chest. "If you must know," she declared without the slightest hesitation, "I like men who are strong and determined. The kind with balls, so to speak. Men like your father."

Flegel nodded solemnly and lowered his head. "I see." Even if he had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, it wasn't hard to grasp the unspoken message behind Jacqueline's words.

That night, they didn't speak again.

They waited for Hange and Moblit's return until dawn.

Jean listens to the conversation, staying on the outskirts of the scene.

The guy with the ridiculous haircut, Marlo, is rambling.

He declares himself ready to betray his comrades and side with the Survey Corps.

He offers to enter the Military Police headquarters in their place.

Captain Levi watches him with detachment.

He thinks for a moment, then gives a firm refusal.

Marlo keeps pleading for a chance.

His eyes shine, his voice is charged with passion.

To Jean, those traits feel absurdly familiar.

That intensity, that foolish inability to put his own well-being before the greater good, that hunger for justice…

Traits he already knows, traits he knows well…

Marlo is just like Eren.

Just as stubborn, just as idiotic.

If that's the case, then maybe...

Levi has just ordered Sasha to tie up Marlo and the girl.

Jean freezes.

What does he think he can do?

He's nothing but an inexperienced, cowardly recruit.

If he hesitates like this, it's only because he's afraid to get his hands dirty.

Just like in Stohess…

Indelible details he'll never erase.

The gunshot, Armin's screams, the terrified face of the soldier aiming her pistol.

No, he doesn't want to pull the trigger.

He doesn't want to abandon those two in the forest.

He wants to believe in Marlo.

He wants to clear things up with him without bloodshed.

Because he's an idiot who hates conflict and hardship.

Jean lowers his head, resigning himself.

Then, suddenly, Mizuki's voice echoes in his mind.

A rambling speech, just as disjointed as only she could make it.

If she were really here, Jean is certain she would say exactly this.

She urges him to think, to persist, to believe in himself.

To find his own sense of justice amidst all this chaos.

To challenge even Levi's decisions if he deems it right.

To stay true to himself and his values.

To not let fear and doubt hold him back.

Jean listens to those wild, impassioned words, absorbed and astonished.

Even Levi said something similar.

He admitted he doesn't know what's right or wrong.

He asked if, by not pulling the trigger, Jean was truly certain he had made the wrong choice.

Jean lifts his gaze to the captain's small frame.

Suddenly, everything is clear.

He knows what he wants.

He knows what to do.

He knows what is right, for him.

And he knows he has the courage to act.

"Captain! Please leave it to me!"

Levi turns his head.

He sizes Jean up for a moment.

He is neither surprised nor offended.

Quite the opposite.

He actually seems pleasantly impressed by his subordinate's initiative.

"Very well."

Two simple words that change everything.

.

Mitras – Royal Palace

The army, led by Commander Zackley and supported by Commanders Smith, Dok, and Pixis, overthrows the king and seizes power.

The world inside the Walls is changing.

And this change is the result of the actions of every single individual; the convergence of choices made by ordinary people who showed the courage of soldiers, by soldiers who never stopped believing in their oath to protect humanity, even by nobles who chose to embrace values different from those of their ancestors.

.

Trost

Hange and Moblit pounced on the soldiers of the Interior Squad surrounding and threatening Flegel. These men, whose duty as soldiers was theoretically to arrest and hold people at bay, were not equipped to face members of the Survey Corps, who surpassed them in every way: physically, in speed, in handling their gear, in strength and reflexes; morally, in the nobility of their ideals and dreams.

The battle - though it could hardly even be called that, given the one-sided nature of the attack and the immediate surrender of the gendarmes - lasted only a few moments.

They dropped like pears falling from a tree, one after another.

As the people of Trost gathered around the gasping soldiers, voicing their outrage over the arrogant words they had spat at the city, one of the gendarmes took advantage of the confusion to make a desperate last stand. His hand shot towards the rifle that had fallen onto the dusty ground in the chaos, he grabbed it, aimed, and was about to fire at Hange Zoë, when a glass bottle crashed against his head, shattering into a thousand pieces.

The soldier collapsed to the ground again, this time unconscious.

Still bent over from the effort of her attack, Jacqueline surveyed the result of her attack. Then, standing up straight as a spindle, she flashed a sly smile and remarked: "Ever since I did this the first time back home, I've been dying for a chance to do it again!"

The leader of the gendarmes, who had been shouting threats and curses at the crowd, suddenly stopped: Flegel had just sat on his face, pinning him to the ground with his considerable weight.

"Don't worry, everyone!" he declared, with a tone of voice the was nothing like the one he had used before, a tone of voice that was spoiled and devoid of substance. "The Reeves Corporation will protect this town. As of today, I, Flegel Reeves, am the new president!" So… please … trust in me".

On that last sentence, his certainty wavered: for a brief moment, the boy he truly was, who had been sheltered from the world's cruelty by his father's broad shoulders, resurfaced.

Flegel looked at the dirty, malnourished citizens surrounding him, wondering if risking his life to expose the gendarmes and his declaration of intent would be enough to earn their trust.

"Boss!" exclaimed Jacqueline, either oblivious to or simply uninterested in the solemnity of the moment; she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck with force. Clinging to each other, the two of them tumbled to the ground, kicking up clouds of caramel-colored dust and further crushing the gendarme beneath them, who let out a strangled groan.

Jacqueline peppered Flegel's round cheeks and thick neck with languid kisses, completely unfazed by the fact that more than a hundred people were watching. "You were amazing! Virile from head to toe! You drive me crazy!"

Amid laughter, applause and encouraging whistles, the people of Trost placed their trust in Flegel Reeves, a boy that until then they had all, to varying degrees, considered a complete good-for-nothing. After all, the more good-tempered among them murmured in response to the sharper, more skeptical remarks of the cautious ones, a guy who can win over a beauty like that must have some redeeming qualities!

Hange sighed, amused. After entrusting Moblit with managing the situation and handling the arrests of the gendarmes, she climbed the stairs of one of the buildings overlooking the alley. She needed to speak with the journalists from The Berk, who, she hoped, after witnessing the scene she and her assistant had so masterfully orchestrated, would be willing to rebel against the government's censorship and publish an article revealing the truth about Dimo Reeves' death.

When the two journalists - after much hesitation from Roy, the older one, and passionate encouragement from the younger Phure - finally left, the squad leader entered one of the houses and sat cross-legged on the floor. She pushed her glasses up onto her forehead, a habit of hers in moments of deep exhaustion and doubt, and ran her hands over her face.

From below, in the alley, came the clamoring voices of the cheering crowd, chanting in praise of the new leader of the Reeves Corporation. Hange listened absentmindedly to the acclamations, her mind occupied with other worries. They had won, at least on that front - assuming, of course, that Roy wouldn't change his mind about exposing the crimes of the Interior Squad of the Military Police and back out - but what would become of the Survey Corps? Erwin's hearing before the government was underway at that very moment; Levi and his squad had vanished after losing track of Historia, Eren, and Lavinia and narrowly escaping death; Nifa, Klaus, and Keji had been eliminated; there was no news of Mizuki and Loki, who were on their way to Wilinski's secret residence.

What will become of us?, Hange wondered again.

For a moment, she gave in to a feeling of resignation, the same one that had gripped her at the end of her last conversation with Sannes, triggered by the gendarme's ironic, allusive remarks, which suggested the idea of the inevitable repetition of errors and atrocities, a circle that had no beginning or end, the impossibility for the single human being to escape the cruel destiny taught by history.

That time, Hange had fought back against the wave of frustration that had overwhelmed her, erupting in a sudden, destructive outburst of anger.

Now she felt only a weariness that weighed down both body and mind.

Just a moment. Just one moment of rest, and then I'll get up, send someone to Mitras for news on Erwin, and start searching for Levi and the others.

A footstep creaked against the wooden floorboards.

Hange's head shot up, and she stared, dumbfounded, at the young man who had just crossed the threshold and was now approaching her. She had never seen him before. At first, she thought he might be a citizen of Trost, sent to find her by Moblit or Jacqueline, but something about his demeanor convinced her that the reason for his presence in the room was something else.

"Hange Zoe?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

Without answering, the young man pulled a folder from the satchel slung across his shoulder, placed it on the worn wooden floor, and slid it towards Hange.

"These are classified records on the territories belonging to the Reiss family in the northern district. In particular, I'd like to direct your attention to the church that was destroyed by a fire five years ago, after the fall of Shiganshina, in what was officially described as an attack by bandits. A bit strange, don't you think? Why would thieves have wanted to burn it down? Furthermore, that the building was consumed by flames is the official version of Rod Reiss, the only survivor of the massacre perpetrated by those criminals, but no evidence was ever gathered to support his statement. In fact, based on testimonies from farmers who arrived at the scene after the disaster and the remnants recovered, it almost seems as if the church… exploded."

From the doorway, the young man smiled cryptically at Hange, who had immediately seized the folder and was rifling through its contents with feverish intensity.

"It almost seems as if…" he murmured from the landing outside the house.

"…as if a Titan had transformed inside and forced its way out," Hange finished for him, staring at the sketches of the incident included among the documents.

No response came.

Scattering papers into the air and kicking up puffs of dust, Hange leapt to her feet and dashed outside. "Hey, wait! Who the hell are you?" she shouted, whipping her head around wildly right, left, up, down.

But the young man was gone.

She searched for him in vain in the now-empty courtyard below and among the houses facing the landing. Defeated, Hange leaned against the wooden railing and contemplated the documents depicting the sketch of the exploded church that she still held in her sweaty hands.

Who the hell was that guy? What did he want? Whose side was he on? The Survey Corps or the Government? Why did he have such detailed information on the Reiss family? Why did he tell her about the church, planting in her mind the seed of an idea that was slowly germinating in her mind?

The whole thing reminded her eerily of the dossier on the members of the mysterious organization in Orvud: Mizuki had found it in a Military Police office, but no one - even after Nile Dok had been informed of the existence of that group of criminals - had been able to determine who had formed it or why he was investigating. It was as if the file had been deliberately placed in Mizuki's path, right in the open, just so she would find it and use it to her advantage.

Hange pressed her lips together.

What the hell is going on? Who's trying to help us from the shadows?

.

OOO

.

Orvud District – Somewhere in the Mountains

Wilinski's residence was a large white house with a horseshoe-shaped structure. It consisted of a central rectangular building with a steeply sloped roof, adorned with wide windows and a balcony accessible via a staircase, flanked by two wings that curved inward. The rear walls of these wings were connected to the rock face behind them, which enclosed a circular clearing that housed the estate and a dense forest of giant trees.

There was only one way into the clearing: the solid stone ridge surrounding it did not form a perfectly closed circle. Its two ends never quite met, leaving a narrow opening barely a hundred meters wide; this slit in the rock served as the only entrance to what was essentially a natural fortress.

The clearing lay within a barren and inhospitable mountain range in the Orvud district, at the foot of a gorge where, long ago, a river had likely flowed. However, further upstream, a massive accumulation of debris had blocked its course. From above, it was impossible to notice that within this dry valley, a hidden fold of rock concealed a small, isolated glade, almost like a womb closing around a fetus: the thick canopy of the giant trees that populated the clearing completely obscured it from view.

Perched on a rocky outcrop within the clearing, Mizuki licked her lips.

The more she studied the landscape, the more convinced she became that it could not be the sole work of nature. Both the towering walls enclosing the glade and the debris damming the river seemed far too precise in placement and structure, too perfectly fitting with the needs of a man who wished to isolate himself from society and remain hidden, to be a coincidence.

What if…?

Mizuki swallowed, shifting her weight to the other leg and shaking out the limb that had gone numb from the long wait.

What if the dam and the rock circle had been created exactly like the Walls, at least according to Hange and Armin's theory? Using the hardening ability that some Titans possessed?

It wasn't an implausible idea: by now, Mizuki had no doubt that Earl Arthur Wilinski knew the truth about the world and the Titans. This was evident from his peculiar speech on that unfinished book and even more so from the attacks the Gendarmerie had launched against Mizuki and Loki during their journey to his residence.

After leaving the district of Chlorba, as they made their way through the forest, they had fallen into an ambush set by a group of soldiers bearing the insignia of the Military Police. However, these enemies wielded a different kind of ODM gear: instead of handles to which the sword blades could be attached, their gear was equipped with firearms, which they had aimed at their targets without the slightest hesitation.

Although caught off guard, Loki and Mizuki had quickly regained their composure, countering the attack with kunai, ninja techniques, and the soldiers' own blades, ultimately forcing the enemy to retreat.

Once the skirmish ended, they resumed their journey towards their destination, this time moving slower and taking extra care to keep a low profile. Because of this, the trip took them twice as long as originally planned.

Yet, despite their caution, as soon as they reached the mountain range of Orvud District, the attacks resumed; not just once, but two, three, four, five times, until Mizuki lost count. These weren't full-scale battles, but rather a series of violent, isolated skirmishes, always against the same group of soldiers armed with those modified ODM devices - and the more Mizuki observed their characteristics and use, the more convinced she became they had been designed specifically to eliminate them, the Survey Corps.

And yet, it didn't seem as though the soldiers were actively pursuing them or deliberately setting traps. It was as if the two groups just kept crossing paths, or rather, as if they were heading towards the same destination.

The last confrontation, which took place dangerously close to the valley where Wilinski's residence lay, had been the worst of them all. Loki had severed the grapple line of an enemy who had been showering him with bullets; the soldier fell, his back slamming against a jagged rock before collapsing limply, as if his bones had turned to dust. Mizuki, meanwhile, had wounded and cornered another enemy at the edge of a cliff, intending to capture and interrogate him; but, as if realizing her plan, the man threw himself over the edge. Mizuki watched him plummet for several meters before his body struck the ground with a sickening crunch. The remaining soldiers had fled.

Now, as she kept her eyes on the thin, vertical gap in the rocks, an uneasy feeling crept over Mizuki.

A part of her was certain they had arrived too late: the gendarmes with the strange ODM gear had already infiltrated the hidden clearing, they had stormed the house, they had already silenced Wilinski forever.

"What do you say, Captain? Should we get moving?" Loki leaned over Mizuki's shoulder to get a better view of the massive estate. "Damn, it's even bigger than the Tennison's place!"

Mizuki grimaced. "I told you not to call me that," she said curtly.

Ever since they were no longer forced to hide their true identities, Loki had taken to addressing her as "captain", a title she loathed with every fiber of her being. She didn't consider herself worthy of such a role, neither as a soldier nor as a ninja. To Mizuki, there were only two individuals who truly deserved and embodied the authority of a "captain": Levi and her late sensei, who had died in the forest of giant trees two years ago.

"How's the wound?" she asked, glancing at her companion.

Loki touched the bandages peeking from the collar of his shirt, softly wrapped around the upper part of his torso, covering the wound he had sustained in their last skirmish. A bullet had grazed his back; he had lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, it was only a superficial cut, which Mizuki had managed to treat without much difficulty. "Captain Levi is right: you worry too much. You're worse than an overprotective mother."

Mizuki snorted. "You have no idea how much I want to slap you on the back just to watch you jump in pain, but I'll hold back. For now". Then she stood up and anchored her feet to the wall with chakra. "Time to move. We'll proceed as we have so far. So..."

"Slowly and cautiously," Loki finished for her, rolling his eyes as he took position beside her. "Alright, Mom."

At those words, Mizuki smacked him on the head, to which he responded with a laugh.

Silent as geckos, they slid down to the base of the rocky outcrop and crept towards the house, moving low through the grass.

.

Mizuki's vague premonition, unfortunately, turned out to be entirely correct.

Inside the grand hall of the estate, yet another skirmish with the gendarmes erupted. This time, neither faction - not Loki and Mizuki, and most importantly, their enemies - seemed willing to back down. Now that both the ninjas and the gendarmes had reached their destination, this was bound to be a fight to the death, one that would only end with the complete annihilation of one side.

Despite some difficulties, primarily due to the gun-equipped ODM devices and the gendarmes' advantageous position, barricaded inside the house, Loki and Mizuki managed to gain the upper hand. Miraculously, they didn't kill a single one of their opponents.

Once they had disarmed and restrained the defeated enemies, they split up to search for Wilinski: Loki would search the upper floor, while Mizuki took the ground floor.

It was Mizuki who found the Earl, inside a vast, shadowy room. The entire clearing, due to the thick canopy of the giant trees, was bathed in a cool, restful darkness, which deepened within the house, especially in the rooms positioned at the rear, pressed against the rocky cliffside, like the one Mizuki had just stepped into.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloom that clung to the walls like a mist, different in quality, older, more resistant, more impenetrable than ordinary darkness; it took even longer for her to make out the towering bookshelves crammed with books, lining the walls, thanks to the dim light from a nearly blocked-out window, so close to the rock it was almost sealed, and the flickering flame of a candle on the desk.

After all this time spent desperately searching for him, driven by the need to see him again, to confront him, to throw his guilt in his face, the fact that she and Wilinski would reunite in a library felt like a cruel joke of fate. And yet, at the same time, it was inevitable.

Where else could this story come to an end? What other place in the world would be more fitting?

After all, what had bound them together was a story written in a little book by an unknown author.

It was only natural that Mizuki would tell him the next part of that story, one Wilinski did not yet know, inside a library.

The Earl lay sprawled on the floor at the foot of the desk, a pool of dark blood spreading beneath him from a bullet wound in his stomach. His old hands - elegant, well-manicured, hands that had struck Mizuki as unnaturally smooth and youthful when they first met - were pressed tightly against the circular wound. His eyes were slightly open; his irises, black as coal, black as wells that plunged to the center of the earth, black as the very embodiment of evil, burned with a feverish light.

Mizuki slid down beside him and pressed her fingers against his wrinkled neck, searching for a pulse.

He was alive.

As she rummaged through her pouch for bandages and medical supplies, as if struck by a sudden inspiration, she followed the direction of Wilinski's dazed gaze, fixed on a large painting hanging on the wall, nestled in a space deliberately left free between the bookshelves.

It was a portrait of a woman.

Even before her eyes could fully discern the features of the person depicted, Mizuki felt, instinctively, irrationally: I know this woman.

Yes, in the gracefully folded hands resting in her lap, in the well-defined, pale shoulders, in the determined chin, in the porcelain cheeks, Mizuki recognized traits that were strikingly familiar.

Then her eyes fully focused on the face. Mizuki barely managed to stifle a gasp.

"But how…? What? Why is there a portrait of Mrs. Williams here...?" she murmured, confused.

And then, in the very next moment, another piece of the puzzle snapped into place: she remembered how, when she first met Wilinski, he had triggered a strange, almost painful sense of familiarity within her, as if she were recognizing a beloved friend, long lost in some distant, blurred past life.

.

Now she was really exaggerating: the man may be a noble, but until proven otherwise he had done nothing to her and, indeed, evoked in her a sense of familiarity that, though of obscure origins and motivations, made her feel protected.

.

Almost as if it were a natural progression of that memory, Mizuki thought back to when Wilinski had sent her that message through the red-haired farmer and she had wondered why the Government and the King wanted to capture Lavinia; she recalled the feeling that she had many, many answers right in front of her, if only she could connect information that she never thought could fit together.

.

There was something she was missing, something that nagged at her like an invisible, razor-thin splinter lodged in the palm of her hand. If only she could isolate that "something", Mizuki was certain she would be able to shed light on many of the dark points surrounding Wilinski and the secret of the world that Duke Tennison had raved about. But that something darted through her confused mind, flattening itself into some unknown recess of her memory, and she just couldn't grasp it.

.

Mizuki tightened her hands around the empty air, her eyes fixed on the serene face of the woman in the portrait. "No, not Williams… Eva… Eva Wilinski…"

At last, as if she had always known it, Mizuki understood the truth.

She had been right both times when naming the woman in the painting: the artist had captured and reproduced the features of Lavinia's mother and the Earl's lost daughter.

"Evanna Williams… Eva Wilinski…" Mizuki whispered under her breath.

They're the same damn person.

Eva Wilinski had not died, as Dimo Reeves believed. Nor had she found a way to kill herself, driving her father mad with grief, like the son in the story. She had climbed over the walls; somehow, she had survived and made her way to the Hidden Leaf Village, choosing as her home a little house by the lake, where she had often welcomed Mizuki.

How is this possible?

"Evanna… Williams…" Wilinski rasped, snapping out of his ecstatic contemplation of the painting. "So… that's what she calls herself out there."

Mizuki, too, came back to her senses: with a sharp exclamation, remembering the wounded man, she finished pulling out her medical supplies and prepared to administer first aid.

However, the moment he felt her fingers trying to tear open his blood-soaked shirt, Wilinski swatted them away with an irritated gesture, striking her with the back of his hand. The gold signet ring on his index finger, glinting even through the dull red stains, sliced through her delicate skin.

"There's no time, Mizuki Onizuka," the old man stammered, his body convulsing with violent spasms. "It's useless. A man knows when his time has come."

During their previous and only encounter, what had struck Mizuki most about Wilinski was the sheer force of his personality and how he had seemed much younger than the age his authoritative demeanor suggested. Where had that man gone? Now, all of a sudden, the Earl appeared to her as nothing more than a frail old man, someone who could be struck down by the most trivial of ailments. Everything about him cried out the vulnerability of old age: the parchment-like, almost milky skin; the trembling hands; the black hair, greasy with sweat and blood, falling messily over his forehead and shoulders; those charcoal-black eyes, the same as Lavinia's, clouded with turmoil.

"We need to talk… we must… you have to tell me. You must give me an answer."

Mizuki put the bandages back into her bag. She couldn't blame him: the pool of blood staining the floor was too vast, his pulse too weak and growing ever more erratic, for her to convince herself that Wilinski had any real chance of survival. She needed to take advantage of the last strength he had left to extract as much information from him as possible on the matters that concerned her, perhaps even a confession of his crimes. However, she was certain that Wilinski would not utter a single word on those subjects or answer any of her questions until she indulged his delirium.

"An answer…" Mizuki said, resigning herself to playing along with the Earl until his curiosity was satisfied or, more likely, until she could skillfully steer the conversation in the direction she desired. "You want to know the ending of that little book without an author. Or rather, let's be precise: you wrote that book, didn't you?"

Wilinski's chuckle quickly turned into a coughing fit. "You finally figured it out."

"The protagonist of the story is your daughter, Eva, whom you loved madly. But one day, Eva discovered the secret of the world and decided to flee from here."

"It was too soon… far too soon," the old man groaned. He ran a hand over his sweat-drenched face, smearing a streak of scarlet blood. "She shouldn't have found out at just twenty years old, in that way… My Eva had too sweet, too kind a nature to accept such brutality."

Yes, Mizuki recognized the woman who emerged from the grieving father's account, from the torrent of words pouring uncontrollably from Wilinski's parched lips, fierce, unstoppable.

Evanna Williams had welcomed Mizuki with a warm, benevolent smile, had done everything to make her feel loved, had cooked her favorite dishes, pampered her, spoiled her, cared for her, listened to her without unnecessary comments or judgment, and had often reminded her that she should consider the little villa by the lake as her second home. For a long time, after Keiko Onizuka's death, Mizuki had projected onto that woman her desperate need for a mother figure; Evanna had sensed it, yet she had neither been shocked nor withdrawn from the role that the child's fantasies had assigned her.

Wilinski spoke of a person different from the one Mizuki had known, but that didn't matter at all.

Evanna Williams, Eva Wilinski: there was no difference.

They had both loved the same woman.

"There was a terrible fight… My Eva was furious, yes, furious," Wilinski clenched his eyes shut, as if that could dull the pain of the memory. "And then, from one day to the next, she disappeared. Eva… she left, taking with her her son and the little girls she carried in her womb."

Mizuki held her breath. Lavinia and Caroline had an older brother?

"Now it's… it's your turn. Tell me. Tell me the rest of the story, Mizuki Onizuka," Wilinski pleaded. A violent coughing fit wracked him, forcing him to hold his breath before gasping for air.

"The rest of the story…" Mizuki tore her gaze away from the old man's sweat-slicked face and lifted it back to the portrait. She was beginning to feel sympathy for him and his fierce, irrational love for his daughter, and she didn't like it. She forced herself to think of Theo, and even more of the little girl with black braids, devoured by a Titan in Tiburtina; at once, the hatred that had been fading reignited. "I don't know how Mrs. Williams made it to the Hidden Leaf Village."

"The Hidden Leaf… Village?"

"It's the name of the place where I lived. She arrived with her daughters in the summer of 840," Mizuki continued, tracing with her eyes the features of the young woman in the portrait, Eva Wilinski, and reconstructing, in her mind, their mature evolution in Evanna Williams.

"Ten years later… She left here in 830…" Wilinski muttered plaintively. "What did she do… all that time?"

Mizuki shrugged. "When we'd stop playing and go inside for a snack, I often asked her where she came from, but Mrs. Williams always answered vaguely. She said she had traveled a lot, but never specified where. Or if she did, I don't remember. Even Lavinia doesn't recall anything from that time. It's as if all memories related to the outside world, except for those of the Leaf Village, have been completely erased from our minds."

"Yes… yes… I suspected as much. Talking to you in Stohess confirmed it…" Wilinski rasped before another coughing fit forced him to stop. From his cracked, bluish lips, a crimson-colored phlegm seeped out, staining his silk shirt. "Is there… nothing else you can tell me?"

"No." Mizuki's tone hardened. At last, she felt entitled to question him about Tiburtina and the horrific acts he had committed. "Wilinski, you were in Tiburtina that day, when I and the others arrived in this world and met Commander Smith. The Survey Corps soldiers were there investigating…"

"I know what they were investigating," Wilinski cut her off abruptly.

Fury surged inside her, blinded her, made her mean and contemptuous.

If he knew, why had he continued deporting and torturing human beings?

"Why… Why did you do such a thing?!" Mizuki dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from grabbing Wilinski by the shoulders and shaking him until he gave her a justification for all the suffering he had spread.

"Having a daughter… and losing her… I don't think you can understand what that means." Wilinski opened his eyes and fixed them on the portrait above them, solemn and perfect in its motionless pose, like a judge poised to deliver a verdict of life or death.

And, in a way, that was exactly what it was: from the passionate intensity lighting up the old father's face, Mizuki realized that every decision this man had made, from the day Eva disappeared to the moment of his death, had been guided by the thought, the longing, the absence of her. Every action the Earl had taken, since the last time Eva's footsteps echoed through the corridors of that villa until the hour of his death, had pursued a single, ambitious goal: to find his daughter, whether dead or alive, even if it was only a reflection of her glimpsed in another person, like his granddaughter Lavinia, or the faint hope of learning of her fate from a stranger, such as Mizuki.

Arthur Wilinski's entire life had been dedicated to his daughter, to her ghost, to the blind veneration of her memory. And that alone was enough to drive any man to madness.

That was what Mizuki, suddenly terrified, saw in his gaze: an incurable, deep-rooted madness.

What horrified her was not that old Wilinski was out of his mind - she had reached that conclusion long ago, considering his dealings with the mysterious organization and Dimo Reeves' words - but that, once again, the unsettling glimmer in this man's eyes was not unfamiliar to her.

It was the same fleeting, elusive flicker she had sometimes glimpsed in Lavinia's coal-black eyes.

"Madness…" the Earl murmured, as if he had guessed the direction of Mizuki's thoughts and the shocking comparison she had drawn. "My grandfather often warned me, he claimed the Wilinski bloodline has always been tainted by the seed of insanity. Whenever he started on that topic, my uncles would dismiss or correct him. They called the fire that consumes us Wilinskis by different names: 'tenacity,' 'selfishness,' 'determination,' 'iron will,' but they were dead wrong. He was the only one who saw the truth: the right word to describe the Wilinski affliction is just one. Madness."

Recalling words and shadows from a distant past, from childhood, when even the most wretched of men still lived with sincerity and innocence, seemed to give the dying Earl a brief surge of strength.

"The spark that ignites this madness, that lights the fuse and sets the sickness ablaze, is different for each Wilinski. It's as if a parasite lurks inside every one of us, eating away from within. It eats and eats, burrowing deeper until it reaches the heart and the brain, devouring them too, until there's nothing human left in us, only this infinite, insatiable hunger that must be fed in order to survive. A parasite, yes… For some, it's a woman, for others, power, wealth, an animal… For me, it was my daughter. And when this fever takes hold of us, we are willing to do anything to satisfy it. From the look on your face, young Onizuka, I'd say she's just the same."

Mizuki straightened abruptly, a physical act of rebellion against the idea that Lavinia could share even the slightest resemblance to this monster. Her indignation was all the more intense because the deepest and most honest part of her whispered that he was right.

Yes, Lavinia was exactly like that: when she wanted something, she was 'willing to do anything' to get it. She calculated, planned, lied, manipulated, crushed, and destroyed any obstacle in her path, without the slightest remorse or moral hesitation. Mizuki had seen her in action too many times to deny it convincingly.

"Rather than wasting time with this nonsense, why don't you focus on the horrors you committed in Tiburtina?! Why did you buy human beings just to feed them to the Titans?!" Mizuki shouted, in a desperate attempt to drive away the terrifying thoughts of her friend that crowded her mind.

Arthur Wilinski gave a bitter smile. "Why…? Isn't it obvious?"

Is he mocking me?!

"It was nothing more… than an experiment."

"An experiment?" Mizuki repeated, her voice unsteady, recalling the key elements of Lavinia's theory about Wilinski's involvement with the mysterious organization.

.

As for Wilinski, instead, they had not yet reached any certainty about his role in that complex picture, and had only worked out an absurd theory, taking for good Mizuki's hunch that the man was waiting for someone, and that the story told in the infamous little book was about that very someone; someone who had decided to "kill" himself in exactly the same way they did, that is, by going outside the walls.

There, taking those premises for good, Lavinia formulated a certain theory that made Hanje's skin crawl and worried Erwin. What if Wilinski was conducting experiments? Experiments aimed at finding out whether it was possible for ordinary citizens, without any military training, to survive in the giants' territory? Experiments aimed at testing whether there was any hope that the someone he was waiting for, who had gone outside the walls, had not been eaten to death?

.

"You conducted experiments to determine whether it was possible for ordinary humans to survive outside the walls," she said, and had to bring a hand to her mouth to stifle a groan.

"Yes... that's right. Year after year… that's what I tried to establish. My parasite... I did it for him. I had to know if my daughter was alive. Do you understand? But every time… every single time, the result was always catastrophic: they all died. I couldn't accept it... Do you understand? I had to keep going, I had to continue… until I discovered how Eva had managed to survive. Because she was alive, she had survived, I knew it, I knew it…! And yet, every time, always the same result, death…"

"And what else did you expect?!" Mizuki burst out; losing every last shred of self-control, she grabbed Wilinski's frighteningly bony shoulders and dug her fingers into the flabby flesh of his back. "You placed human beings… children… in front of Titans! What did you think was going to happen?!"

"Yes… yes… they all died. But I couldn't resign myself to it… My little girl couldn't have met such an atrocious end… and I was right! I was right!" Wilinski erupted into a fit of convulsive, inhuman laughter, coughing up saliva and blood, wheezing from the pain his wound inflicted on him, yet this didn't stop that chilling mirth, which made Mizuki's skin crawl, forcing her to recoil as if she had just touched something toxic.

She had to accept that it was pointless to try to awaken even the slightest sense of guilt in him: Arthur Wilinski wasn't just unhinged, he had become a monster, devoid of any empathy or understanding for human beings other than himself or his daughter.

No, Mizuki told herself. No, despite what he says and does, he doesn't even feel genuine affection for her. It's just obsession. He never managed to understand her, he never managed to love her. That's why she ran away. Not because of the secret of the world.

Suddenly, against her own will, she began to feel pity for him.

The same old, incorrigible flaw of Mizuki.

She kept telling herself that Wilinski had earned his existence filled with solitude and suffering, that he deserved even worse. And yet, it was sad and desolate to see a being inhabiting a human body, but who had nothing human left within him: neither the fundamental emotions nor the ability to love others.

She despised herself for that spark of understanding and pity, of which Wilinski wasn't worthy, yet she couldn't suppress it.

"I had to know…" the old man resumed. At times, he paused, releasing sharp, agonized breaths; his breathing was growing ever shorter, his voice fainter and more labored. "I had to know if she was alive… That's why, the Survey Corps… I entrusted them with all my hopes… Smith, he had to go with you to the outside world… he had to find her…"

"That's why you paid Zackley to turn a blind eye and allow us to become soldiers…" Mizuki added, following Wilinski's reasoning. It was as if, after fumbling an object while blindfolded and forming wild guesses about its nature, someone had suddenly pulled away the cloth covering her eyes, and now, able to see again, she could verify the validity of her suppositions and piece together the clues she had gathered by touch. "And for the same reason, six years ago, you handed Erwin Smith the documentation on Lovof, whose interference threatened to dismantle the Survey Corps. Because you didn't want the expeditions beyond the walls to stop…"

"I didn't want to… No, I couldn't allow it. Smith… They had to reach the outside world… to her… because she was there, I was certain… And despite that…" Wilinski trailed off. For interminable moments, he didn't breathe, his feverish, glassy eyes bulging, more like those of a dead fish than a living being.

He didn't have much time left. Mizuki had to act fast if she wanted to learn anything else useful.

"The outside world… Where is the outside world? How far is it from the walls? And what is happening out there? Why are they attacking us?" she pressed, forgetting for a moment that she herself came from that unknown and menacing universe. "The Giant and the Wizard, do you know who they are?"

Wilinski, however, didn't respond. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn't even heard the barrage of pressing questions she had thrown at him. He was muttering disjointed, fragmented words, among which, like sudden spikes of fever announcing to the patient a night full of torments, only the name of his daughter stood out, 'Eva…' he repeated obsessively.

"Lavinia… why is the Government hunting her? Why were you attacked by the gendarmes?"

Those questions yanked the Earl from the abyss of fevered delirium he had plunged into. "I… I betrayed them… I helped you… protect her, I asked you to protect her… for her, for Eva…" he mumbled, his eyes wide. "They know… that she's a Wilinski… I'm of no use anymore… now that I've betrayed them… I don't know how, but they know she's one of us… that she's my granddaughter… As long as there's a Wilinski in the world… no one can use that power… terrible, terrifying… they mustn't use it…"

Mizuki regarded the old man's distress with unease. What the hell could possibly unsettle a demon like him? What power was he raving about?

"As long as there's a Wilinski… There must always be a Wilinski in the world… It's our power…"

Advancing blindly on intuition, Mizuki latched onto that phrase the count kept repeating. "What is the power of the family in the village surrounded by the ravine, the power that made it unique among all the others?" she whispered, praying to the heavens that she had asked the right question, because she was certain it would be the last one Wilinski would be able to hear. "What is the power of the Wilinski family?"

She succeeded.

Wilinski had a final surge of clarity and understanding: he grasped the meaning of the request, as evidenced by his effort to keep his dim, dying eyes fixed on Mizuki, but his voice and breath failed him. He struggled to speak, and even then, his lips could only form an incoherent babble.

"We… are the guarantors of the 'pact'… As long as a Wilinski exists in the world… they won't be able to break it…"

"A pact? What pact?" Mizuki leaned in, bringing her ear close to the Earls's mouth.

"Like you… Like the Uchiha… we are the guarantors… we…"

Her heart leaped into her throat.

How the hell did Wilinski know about the Uchihas? And, even worse, that she was one of them? Had he just made the name up? No, impossible! Had he heard it somewhere? Just as unlikely, she had never revealed her father's surname to anyone. Had he read it in a book? But which one? Had he been to the outside world? No, no, no, the truth lay elsewhere.

Her mind began evaluating and discarding, one after another, even the most improbable and unrealistic possibilities: that she had muttered it in her sleep while Wilinski's men were watching her; that one of her companions had let it slip by accident; that Wilinski had simply guessed; that…

"Itachi… Itachi Uchiha…"

The name of her uncle, echoing within these walls, in a world so far away, shattered her.

It was worse than the most scabrous revelation Wilinski had made in his dying moments.

Mizuki's hands fell into her lap; they remained there like lifeless objects, devoid of any strength. That was why Wilinski's bony, bloodstained fingers managed to reach hers, to grasp them; that was why she did not resist the repulsive contact, despite her overwhelming desire to flee, screaming with all the air in her lungs.

"You… you Uchihas are the world's safety valve… The safety valve of the world… You have the power to stop it… forever…"

After that cryptic statement, Wilinski lost all interest in her, except in the sense that she might provide him with more precious information about his daughter. His hand let go of Mizuki's and stretched out, in a desperate motion, towards the painting.

"Eva… My child… is she happy?"

Mizuki furrowed her brows and bit her lower lip.

What should she do?

Shatter the illusion that was guiding this mad, loveless old man towards a gentle death with sharp, merciless words spoken for no reason but cruelty? Tell him of the fire that had consumed the house by the lake, of how Evanna and Caroline Williams had died, either suffocated or burned alive? Reveal to him, sadistically, that his daughter had miraculously survived the Titans, only to be killed by an unknown individual who, for all they knew, was still lurking inside the walls?

A part of Mizuki wanted nothing more: her mouth longed to whisper, with cruel satisfaction, the truth, and her eyes yearned to witness the final collapse of Wilinski's last hope under the weight of harsh reality. It was that side of her that she had inherited from her father, her Uchiha side, thirsting for revenge, perhaps stirred and brought to the surface by the Earl's delirious ramblings about her family.

But there was another part of her, one nurtured by the fact that she bore the name Onizuka, not Uchiha; a part of Mizuki that her mother had carefully cultivated, fostering empathy and kindness towards others, without ever living to see the splendid fruits of her work. It was the side of her that could feel pity, that could suffer even for the lowest of men, even for a man like Wilinski, who had inflicted the burden of his madness and solitude upon innocent people.

And the bright side of the coin, one way or another, always won out in her.

So Mizuki pressed her lips together into a thin, taut line, stopping her Uchiha side from throwing the truth at the old man with scathing phrases, and instead said: "Yes… your daughter is well. She's happy. She lives by the lake, in a little wooden house…"

The face of Earl Arthur Wilinski lit up with a blissful smile as the dark image of the library faded before his clouded eyes, replaced by a mirage: a sun-drenched clearing, brought to life by the soothing murmur of the lake's water flowing gently beyond a dense wall of trees with thick, brilliant green foliage; at its center, a light wooden house, and on its threshold, the silhouette of a slender woman with long black hair, reaching out her arms…

Wilinski's arm extended one last time, and his fingers curled as if grasping an outstretched hand. Then, his limb fell onto his body with a slow motion, as if something unseen were holding it up.

He was dead.

Mizuki closed the corpse's eyelids. It was unbearable for her to feel those coal-colored eyes, eyes she knew so well and loved so much, staring at her, lifeless. They stirred up bad memories and dark imaginings: that was precisely the expression she had pictured on the faces of Caroline and Evanna Williams as they were devoured by the flames; in her nightmares, Lavinia stared at her with that same empty gaze after being trampled or torn apart by a Titan.

Gazing at Wilinski's serene face, Mizuki couldn't help but wonder if she had done the right thing; if that man truly deserved such a peaceful departure after the pain and suffering he had inflicted on the world.

I really need to do something about this terrible flaw of mine.

Just as Mizuki was getting to her feet, Loki burst into the room. "No luck, upstairs there's no…" He stopped abruptly when he spotted the corpse at Mizuki's feet. "He's dead?"

"Yes."

"Did you manage to get any information?"

"Some." Mizuki reached him at the library's threshold in two strides and shoved him forward decisively. "I'll tell you on the way. Now we need to hurry: Captain and the others might need us."

"Speaking of which…" Loki followed her along the corridor, which Mizuki had taken at full speed, struggling quite a bit to keep up with her. "I searched the gendarmes before heading upstairs. I found a map inside one of their jackets: there's a rural village in the Orvud District circled, with the letter 'R' written beside it."

"R… As in Reiss."

"Yeah, I'm not as smart as Hange or Lavinia, but I had the same suspicion."

Noticing that Loki was looking at her with a question painted on his face, Mizuki stopped on the first step of the polished marble staircase.

Her companion was waiting for her to make a decision, as captain of Squad 7 or vice-captain of the Special Operations Squad, and give orders.

Damn it, I hate this role.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed, heading down the stairs. "Destination: the countryside of the Orvud District!"

.

OOO

.

Orvud District, Reiss Family Territories

By the time Loki and Mizuki reached their destination, night was falling.

The villages they passed through were gripped by an invisible yet unmistakable unrest: lights were on in the houses, farmers in their nightclothes anxiously peered outside from their windows or doorways, only to hastily bolt their doors the moment they spotted Mizuki and Loki's horses advancing along the dirt road.

"There's something strange going on," Loki remarked when they spotted a small group of villagers gathered at a crossroads, whispering conspiratorially.

They discovered the 'something strange' sooner than expected. As they rounded a bend, a stone church came into view, surrounded by a cluster of men. Loki and Mizuki immediately recognized the army uniforms - their colors were unmistakable - and were about to turn back when the moon, freed from the grip of the clouds, illuminated the emblem on the soldiers' backs.

"They're our people!" Mizuki trilled, spurring her horse into a gallop.

However, just a few meters from her target, two strangers suddenly leaped onto the road, aiming their rifles at her. One was a young man with a ridiculous haircut, the other a sharp-eyed, smirking girl. Both wore, beneath their cloaks, the uniform of the Military Police.

Gendarmes? Did we make a mistake? Could our comrades have been captured? But looking at them down there, it doesn't seem like it…

"Who goes there?!" the young man called out dramatically. "Identify yourselves!"

"Well, I…" Mizuki began, already pulling a kunai from her satchel, because, as her father had drilled into her first, and the captain later. it was always best to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

"Mizuki!"

At the sound of Jean's voice calling her name, the tension immediately eased.

"Jean!" Mizuki swiftly dismounted from Ronnie and approached the young man, her excitement evident.

"They're with us," Jean said, infusing his words with just a slight hint of authority.

The two gendarmes immediately lowered their weapons.

Loki also dismounted. "What are you all doing here? What's going on? Since when do we work with the Military Police?"

"Is everyone okay?" Mizuki asked instead.

Jean ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah… more or less," he replied, somewhat hesitantly. Then, he gestured for Loki and Mizuki to follow him. "It's complicated. A lot has happened. Hange and Captain Levi will explain everything."

Mizuki's heart leaped: Levi, her captain, was there.

"Let's go," she said, taking Jean by the arm as they set off at a brisk pace towards the church.