❖ A Decision at the Breakfast Table
Morning lay still within the Queen's palace—
so still it felt as though the world itself had paused, holding its breath to witness what was about to be said.
Sunlight spilled gently across the edges of the breakfast table, bathing the silverware and porcelain teacups in a pale glow. Yet the calm was not real. It was fragile—suspended, waiting on lips that were about to speak.
Sarah sat at the table between Historia and Hange, with Armin beside her, wrapped in a heavy silence.
She was not trembling, yet her eyes carried something that resembled certainty… not comfort.
She placed her hand around the cup, took a small sip, then spoke in a calm voice that carried a quiet defiance:
"I know my decision to stay has raised many questions… and I know that everything I do here is being watched. That is why I would like to be clear today."
She set an old leather-bound notebook on the table—its pages worn, its edges softened by time—then looked directly at Historia.
"I have decided to stay."
There was no triumph in her tone.
It was an acknowledgment.
An acknowledgment of responsibility—not allegiance.
"Not because I chose one side over another… but because I no longer have the luxury of leaving. Marley is not waiting for me—my mission, in their eyes, is not yet complete. I do not possess enough information to hand them victory. And if they suspect, even for a moment, that I have begun to question your true intentions… my sister's name will be erased before I ever return."
She drew a breath and continued:
"As for you, you have received Zeke's letters. You know I am not a conventional enemy—nor am I an ally. I am trapped in between. And yet, within this complexity, I found something worth stopping for."
She gestured toward the notebook.
"These are not merely research papers… they are the remnants of a dream belonging to a man who was killed for daring to see Eldians as human beings. My father was neither with Marley nor against it. He stood with one idea alone—that the curse could end."
She fell silent for a heartbeat, as though summoning his face, then continued:
"His dream was never his alone. Since childhood, I used to slip away from Marley's camps into Eldian tents—listening to their stories, trying to decipher their ancient writings. It was not rebellion… it was curiosity. Something inside me whispered that this culture hid something deeper than fear—something that resembled light."
Her voice trembled now, honestly, as she added:
"And when I dreamed of him recently… I felt his words were no longer memory, but prophecy. As though time itself had granted me one final year—not merely to save my sister, but to save what remains of this fractured world."
She placed her hand firmly atop the notebook.
"The final pages are missing. Yes. But I know my father's methods. I need a small laboratory, test subjects, local herbs… and years' worth of courage, compressed into a single year."
She looked around the table—eyes burning, glassed with tears.
"I will not deceive you… I promise nothing. I am not a savior, and I do not wish to be anyone's hero. I only want to try. To open a window in the middle of this night. And if I am meant to fall, let it be while I am trying to save my sister… and an idea called peace."
She paused, gathering what remained of her composure, then continued—her voice steady despite the hidden tremor beneath it:
"This means I will remain in the capital for some time… not only as a scientist, but as a human being carrying a final thread of hope. And to do so… I need your full support. Your trust—however conditional it may be."
Her final words fell like a seal upon a document no one had dared to draft before.
What she offered was not a promise, but a declaration—the beginning of a path paved with doubt… and faith intertwined.
Silence followed. Faces tightened. Glances crossed. It felt as though something unseen was moving among the souls seated at the table.
Hange was the first to speak. She lifted her gaze from the worn notebook, eyes alight with both scientific fervor and raw emotion.
"A laboratory? We'll build one if we must. Test mice? We'll gather them from every corner of the capital! These studies aren't just papers… they're a map—leading us toward a possibility we never dared imagine. You've given us direction in the middle of this fog."
She then turned to Armin.
"And you, Armin—return to headquarters immediately. Tell them everything. This is not a secret… this is a turning point. There is no time to wait for official dispatches."
Armin nodded silently, something like shy admiration flickering in his eyes.
He knew what he had witnessed today would change everything… perhaps even his own heart.
Commander Pixis, who had spent the entire discussion clasping his hands together, finally cleared his rough throat.
"Wars are not won by weapons alone… but by hope. I've seen battles that shattered armies, yet left one woman standing because she carried something greater. If what you hold in these pages is true, then on behalf of the military—I declare our full support. On one condition: never choose silence… even when speaking hurts."
He then turned to Historia, silently passing her the floor.
The Queen, who had remained quiet until now, gazed at Sarah as though staring into a mirror—one reflecting an alternate version of herself: a girl standing between fire and crowns, between duty and blood.
She spoke softly, her words glowing with restrained strength:
"I was once a prisoner… imprisoned by a name, by blood, by a crown I never wanted. I understand you—not as a queen, but as a woman. You will remain in the capital. You will have your laboratory, and your freedom as well. But remember—trust is built like dreams… in stages, and over long silences."
She added, with a faint, sorrow-tinged smile:
"And sometimes, the most valuable thing we do is not to heal ourselves—but to offer healing to others."
Finally, Commander Nile—leaning back, observing with the eye of a soldier rather than a politician—spoke in a grounded, pragmatic tone:
"I don't believe in myths or dreams… but I believe in results. If your father's medicine succeeds, I will be the first to place it in the hands of a mother crying over her transformed son. And the first to stand before the generals of war and say: we no longer need to devour one another to survive."
Then he fixed Sarah with a firm gaze.
"Until then, you will remain under surveillance—not because we do not trust you, but because time shows no mercy to those who sleep peacefully between two wolves."
❖ The Capital Market — Gifts That Are Never Spoken
On one of the final warm mornings of summer, amid the crowded alleys of the capital's market, Sarah walked beside Armin in a silence that felt like contemplation rather than absence of words.
Everything around them pulsed with life: the calls of vendors, the scent of freshly baked bread, the lingering perfume of eastern spices, and fabrics hanging in vivid colors, swaying like paintings dancing in the air.
She wasn't searching for anything in particular…
She was simply walking.
As if her heart itself were guiding her steps.
She stopped before a small jewelry shop and slipped an old ring from her pocket—its engraving faded, the name upon it no longer carrying meaning.
Handing it to the merchant, she said softly,
"I want it to be a beginning… not an ending."
Armin looked at her in quiet surprise, but said nothing.
She accepted the payment and moved on without hesitation.
She bought a delicate box of sweets, a gray woolen cap, a leather-bound notebook, a silver necklace, and a clear glass hourglass.
Armin watched her in silence before finally asking,
"Are you preparing for a departure… one with no return?"
She turned toward him, her voice gentle—like a warm confession.
"Memories aren't packed into suitcases," she said.
"They're left behind in hearts.
These gifts… are a pledge of new bonds. Small tokens for people who will go on—but who don't wish to be forgotten."
She lowered her gaze, then added quietly,
"I won't forget those who were part of the most honest chapters of my life.
I only hope… to remain a small detail in their future stories."
Then she gestured toward each gift, as though narrating quiet stories:
"The sweets are for Sasha… because I still see her smile, and she reminds me of my sister.
The cap is for Jean—he doesn't say much, but he tries to appear stronger than he feels. This cap hides hesitation, not his head.
The notebook is for Connie… it might help him organize the chaos in his soul.
The necklace is for Mikasa… so she remembers that beauty does not conceal strength.
And the hourglass is for Eren… because he needs to reconcile with time."
A brief silence followed, broken by Armin's question:
"And me?"
She reached into her bag and handed him a rare book, bound in elegant leather.
"A book about lost civilizations," she said.
"I think it will mean more to you than anything else."
He accepted it with genuine gratitude and said gently,
"Thank you… but what about Levi?"
She hesitated for a moment, then took out a simple envelope and handed it to him without meeting his eyes.
In a whisper, she said,
"A short letter… nothing more."
Then, with a calm tone edged with faint irony, she added,
"And if he asks, tell him it's just… a reminder that I passed through here—and survived his lethal stares."
After a pause, she continued softly,
"I'm not certain of what I feel toward him… and I don't trust that he feels anything at all.
But if that envelope stays in his pocket—even if he forgets what's written inside—perhaps I was something small… in his heart."
Armin looked at her differently then.
Not as a spy.
Not as a scientist.
But as a woman standing in a gray space between war and longing.
With a gentle smile, he said,
"Sometimes relationships don't need definitions. It's enough to leave behind an honest trace."
He cleared his throat slightly, hesitated, then spoke:
"Do you remember the basement? When you were crying?"
She faltered for a moment, then nodded.
He continued quietly,
"No one ever cried for Levi's pain… not before Petra, and not after.
No one dared to see his exposed past—and then return to leave a flower at his door.
Not even Hange did that.
But you did."
Sarah tried to deny it, or to respond—but Armin continued in a low voice, as though revealing a secret that should never be spoken:
"After you left the basement… he was standing there, still staring at the box.
He suddenly asked me, without looking at me:
'Is she crying for my pain… or is she crying because she's jealous of a dead girl's letter—one I never returned the feelings of?'"
Sarah stopped breathing for several seconds.
The sound in her heart was louder than the horse's hooves, louder than the cold air around them.
Armin wanted to end the conversation—but his childlike curiosity compelled him to add:
"You know what that means… don't you?"
She didn't answer.
She simply stared ahead, her eyes veiled with a tear that never fell.
❖ By Annie's Crystal — Confessions Left Unspoken
When they finished their walk through the capital's market and their steps echoed through corridors damp with autumn dew, Armin suddenly said,
"Sarah… do you have time before we return? There's somewhere I want to go."
She looked at him with mild surprise, then tilted her head gently and asked,
"Somewhere personal?"
He replied, almost embarrassed by his own need,
"Yes… I want to visit Annie. I don't know if it's strange, but she's been there for years, and I feel like I need to talk to her—even if she can't hear me."
Sarah nodded softly, asking no questions. She didn't know much about Annie beyond the fact that she was the Female Titan captured in Paradis—but from Armin's tone, she understood this visit wasn't meaningless. It was a delayed confession.
"Let's go."
They reached the chamber where the crystal lay—glowing with a cold, silent light, like a frozen heart. Armin stood before it, as though time itself had paused.
He raised his hand and gently touched the glass surface.
"I thought I loved you, Annie.
But lately… I've started to wonder: do I truly love you?
Or are these feelings an extension of Bertholdt's memories that I carry?"
Sarah remained behind him, silent. Yet she placed a hand over her chest, as though his words had stirred something within her as well.
She spoke softly, with the maturity of a woman acquainted with pain:
"Feelings don't grow in memory, Armin.
They grow in hesitation, in fear, in all those gray spaces we can't fully understand.
Perhaps love isn't certainty… but it cannot be wrong if it's sincere."
He stood in silence, then turned toward her and asked in a low voice,
"Can you trust your own feelings?"
After a moment of quiet, she answered,
"Sometimes… yes.
But they're not always a priority.
Right now… I live for my sister.
Love feels distant… like a postponed dream with no time left."
Then she looked at the crystal, as though addressing the one inside it:
"To be suspended between life and death for years…
is harder than being forgotten, and easier than being understood.
I hope you hear him—even if only in a dream."
They left the room quietly.
Armin carried the box of small gifts and the book she had given him, while Sarah walked beside him with slow steps—collecting from the path whatever remained of a moment she didn't want to end.
Sarah (softly, gazing toward the horizon):
"Armin… do you think they'll keep these things? Will they truly mean something to them?"
He paused, then looked at her honestly.
"More than you think."
He smiled faintly, then added,
"When you first came here… we didn't welcome you as we should have. Some doubted you, others treated you coldly. And me? I stayed in the middle—just watching."
Then, with more warmth:
"But despite that, you carried something different… a quiet energy, gentle stubbornness, and pure curiosity. That alone left a mark. These gifts will become memories—reminding us that someone chose to see us as human beings, not monsters or enemies."
Sarah (softly):
"And I won't forget that they saw something in me… other than a spy."
Armin (with a small smile):
"That's exactly why these gifts will remain… close to their hearts."
❖ At Queen Historia's Palace
After the conversation ended, the queen instructed one of the servants to prepare the fastest horse in the royal stables. Once ready, she personally handed it to Armin and said with firm seriousness,
"Time is not on our side, Armin. Please deliver the news to headquarters as quickly as possible."
As Armin prepared to depart, Hange stepped forward and handed him a heavy, carefully sealed letter.
"This is for Levi. It contains everything he needs to know about what happened here—updates, notes, and even a few small secrets."
She leaned closer, winking as she added a sarcastic footnote at the end, written clearly in her familiar handwriting:
A side note for our perpetually worried captain:
It seems the queen's new guard, Niccolo, has been assigned to accompany our distinguished guest Sarah. A handsome young man, very quiet—almost as if he records her every move with his eyes. Nothing official, of course… but he doesn't leave her side—for security reasons, naturally.
Don't worry… we'll keep an eye on the one doing the watching.
Hange sealed the note with a wide grin and said to Armin,
"Say goodbye for me… especially to Levi. Tell him the capital still misses his sharp tongue—and that terrifying calm he uses when issuing threats."
At the Scout Regiment Headquarters – After Dinner
When the door to the dining hall opened, all conversation came to an abrupt halt.
Hands froze above plates. Heads lifted at once.
Connie (blurting out):
"Armin?! Alone?! Where's Sarah? And where's Commander Hange?"
Mikasa (tense):
"Did something happen?"
Armin stood at the doorway, his face worn but steady. With casual restraint, he removed his jacket and said:
"I'm hungry… let's eat first."
Levi shot him a sharp look.
It had nothing to do with food.
It was something else—
a tight knot forming in his chest, unnamed, unfamiliar, yet steadily growing.
He sat down in silence, untouched plate before him.
When the movement in the room finally settled, Armin placed his spoon aside, wiped his mouth calmly, and said in a low but clear voice:
"Sarah won't be coming back for now. She decided to stay in the capital."
Silence fell.
Eyes tightened.
Hearts quickened.
Armin continued:
"She attended a meeting with the commanders. Faced them with a confidence—and an honesty—I didn't expect from someone in her position. She said what needed to be said. She endured what many couldn't. She's strong… maybe stronger than we thought."
Then he allowed himself a small smile.
"Looks like I've officially become the messenger between the capital and headquarters."
Jean (curious, uneasy):
"She stayed? For research?"
Armin:
"For that… and for other reasons. But she knows what she's doing."
Levi said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed on the empty space before him.
The word that echoed relentlessly in his mind was one:
Stayed.
Connie (trying to lighten the mood):
"So… where are the gifts? Did she send us anything?"
Armin pulled out a small box and placed it at the center of the table.
"She said they're not gifts," he replied.
"Just small keepsakes. Tokens of friendship. So you'll remember her. Because she won't forget you."
He began handing them out.
A hat for Jean.
A notebook for Connie.
A necklace for Mikasa.
Sweets for Sasha.
A rare book—for Armin himself.
Each item drew quiet surprise from its recipient.
Jean (with a faint laugh):
"And where's Captain Levi's gift? I don't see anything black or sterile."
Armin answered calmly:
"She didn't send him an object. Just a letter."
He pulled two neatly folded papers from his pocket.
"One from Hange… and one from Sarah."
Hands reached forward instinctively—but Armin stepped back slightly.
"No one opens it," he said.
"It has his name on it. In her handwriting."
Levi took the letter from Armin with practiced indifference, as though it were a bill or a report. Slowly, he stood.
"A keepsake? A letter?" he said coolly.
"Exactly what this place needs right now—more emotional paperwork."
Then he glanced at Jean, voice sharp and flat:
"And you—if you open your mouth one more time about gifts or necklaces, I'll tie you up with them and hang you in the stables."
Connie let out a quiet chuckle.
Levi ignored it.
He walked out of the hall slowly, without looking back.
Levi's Room – Under Dim Light
He closed the door behind him in silence, and the quiet spilled into the room like a heavy shadow.
He didn't turn on the lamp.
He let the pale moonlight slip through the half-drawn curtains—as though the room could not bear more light than that.
He stood still for a moment, his back to the room, both letters still in his hands.
The paper wasn't heavy.
And yet—it felt like it carried more than he could afford to hold.
He sat on the edge of the bed without removing his coat, resting one elbow on his knee, staring at the two envelopes as if one of them concealed an emotional mine he feared awakening.
Nothing in his face betrayed disturbance.
But beneath his skin, his veins spoke what his mouth refused to admit:
Something was wrong.
Something was shifting within the last remnants of ice inside him.
He opened Hange's letter first—
with the detached air of someone expecting a dull report.
But it wasn't a report.
As always, the words were long, chaotic, packed with detail—
and this time, they struck precisely where he had tried not to look.
Hange's Letter
To Captain Levi,
Things here are moving faster than your usual calm routines would allow.
Sarah is no longer being treated as a spy under observation—she's beginning to assume a role closer to that of an "official researcher under the capital's protection."
Queen Historia approved the opening of a private research wing to study the compound she spoke of.
Pixis—despite his cautious nature—said openly (yes, in front of everyone):
"If her work proves successful, her presence among us will be more valuable than any foreign ally."
Even Nile from the Military Police—known for his rigidity—stated that he'd rather keep her here than allow Marley to reclaim her.
In short: Sarah is beginning to look less like a temporary guest… and more like part of the capital's internal system.
As for protection, the new royal guard—Niccolo—has been assigned as her permanent escort.
Quiet, observant, officially a personal guard.
Some are beginning to wonder whether his role is merely "security"… or whether the capital is trying to make her comfortable enough to put down roots.
Final note (and I know you'll pretend to ignore this and curse me later):
If things continue this way, we may soon be forced to move our operations to the capital…
before Sarah is formally announced as part of the royal court—
or perhaps even engaged under the convenient excuse of political alliance.
—Hange
(Who knows when to worry… and when to jab a small pin into your awareness so you'll stop pretending you don't care.)
The final line of Hange's letter struck him like a sudden blow to the chest.
"The new guard… Niccolo… rarely leaves her side."
Levi lifted an eyebrow slightly, then reread the sentence—as if he hadn't understood it.
Or perhaps… as if he didn't want to.
Guarding her?
For security reasons?
A bitter scoff echoed inside him.
Yes. Of course. "Security."
Just as innocent as the way she would lose herself in a chemistry book, forgetting the world around her.
His fingers tightened around the paper until its edge crumpled beneath his grip.
He exhaled slowly, like someone resisting something he refused to name.
Then—without thinking—he hurled the letter at the wall.
It struck the stone and slid down to the floor.
He rose sharply, his movements violent despite the silence, and stood staring into the empty space before him as if he meant to strangle someone who wasn't even there.
Through clenched teeth, he muttered,
"Niccolo… huh? How wonderful."
Then suddenly his voice rose,
"Damn you, Hange!"
As if she could read what lay between his ribs—and deliberately spill it onto paper with mocking precision.
He stepped closer to the wall, and before his mind could intervene, he slammed his fist against it.
The pain didn't register until he saw the blood—slowly seeping from his knuckles, as though something deeper than flesh were draining out of him.
He sank down in silence.
The wall wasn't stained with blood alone…
but with a frustration he couldn't name.
He wasn't angry at Niccolo.
Nor at Sarah.
He was furious at that absurd thought taking root in his chest like a thorn:
When did I become… like this?
He lowered his head for a moment, then let out a harsh breath as he bent to pick up the fallen paper—an action that felt heavier than any battle he had ever fought.
Then he reached for the second letter.
Sarah's letter.
It was lighter than the first—
yet his heart grew heavier the moment he opened it.
It wasn't long.
It wasn't ornate.
It wasn't tender.
Exactly the way he liked it.
And exactly the way he feared it.
In Levi's Room – Reading the Second Letter
"My scent is still here…
Sometimes what we leave behind weighs more than what we carry with us.
Look closely… you might find me."
He read it once.
Then again.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the paper, as if the words had settled somewhere deep inside him—
a place he refused to name.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the letter resting between his fingers, as though it were something meant to be analyzed, not felt.
A long silence followed.
Then he muttered to himself, his voice carrying his usual dry irony:
"Look for what, exactly?
The perfume?
The trace of a step?
Or an answer I never asked for in the first place?"
He rested his elbow on his knee and stared at the floor.
But his stillness was not calm.
It was controlled confusion—
the kind that kills slowly, without making a sound.
"Who is Sarah, anyway?
Does she mean anything to me?"
He raised an eyebrow slightly, then pressed his lips together with indifference that fooled no one—not even himself.
"Have Hange's ridiculous words started to make sense now?
When she hinted that I don't see you…
because I don't want to see you?"
He closed his eyes briefly.
Faces returned to him.
The looks exchanged among the Scouts whenever he approached her.
The short silences that followed each conversation between them.
"Petra… she hid her feelings in the shadows of battle.
No one noticed.
Not even me."
He shook his head, as if scolding himself.
"But Sarah… everyone noticed.
Everyone… except me."
He drew in a deep breath.
When he looked at the letter again, his eyes were steady—
yet behind them, a storm raged.
"So what is it that you leave behind, then?
A keepsake?
Or a new curse for a commander who doesn't know how to fight something that cannot be killed?"
He set the letter aside.
But his thoughts remained tethered to it.
He didn't want love.
He didn't want war.
Yet he feared he had stepped onto the battlefield
without ever realizing it.
Meanwhile – In Sarah's Laboratory
Sarah sat alone in her laboratory, surrounded by a silence broken only by the faint scurrying of mice inside their cages.
Scattered across the table were vials, half-finished compounds, and papers dense with handwritten notes.
A fifth mouse lay lifeless beneath the effects of an experiment that had failed to reach completion.
She lifted her glove—stained with a small smear of blood—and stared at it blankly.
This was not her first failure.
But it was the first time failure tasted so distinctly
of loneliness.
She leaned her forehead against the table and exhaled slowly.
In that exact moment, Armin's words slipped into her mind—spoken earlier with a quiet honesty that felt like confession:
"No one cried for Levi's pain but you.
Not even he understands why."
She closed her eyes.
The forest returned to her memory.
The ground slick with rain.
The moment she had slipped without warning.
She didn't remember the pain.
She remembered his hand.
How he caught her just before she fell completely.
Strong.
Steady.
And not cold.
For the first time, she realized she hadn't been held merely to be saved—
but because something inside her had wanted that hand, before anything else.
Her eyes opened slowly.
She looked at her own hand as if it still carried the imprint of his grip.
"What is happening to me?"
She didn't know when it had begun.
Was it when she entered the basement and saw him freeze before the box of memories?
Or when she read Petra's words and watched him rip the letter from her hand with a force she only understood later?
Or when she knocked on his door, placed the flower there, and fled—
like a girl in her very first love?
She had thought him distant.
Cold.
Indifferent.
She had been foolish.
Because the most wounded men
are always the ones who don't know how to speak.
She lifted her head and unconsciously reached for the necklace resting against her chest.
"Do I love him?"
It wasn't the question that frightened her.
It was the answer.
As for Nicolo…
Nicolo, the noble guard assigned by the Queen to accompany Sarah, was not merely an official observer.
He was the son of one of the old families that had served the crown for generations—yet he carried no arrogance in his bearing.
From the moment he met her, his gaze had been different.
As if she were not a visitor from Marley,
but a woman deserving of respect—
perhaps more.
He brought her meals without being asked.
Covered her shoulders if he found her asleep over her papers.
Stepped away quietly so as not to wake her.
He never interfered with her work.
But he watched her every movement with calm admiration, as though acknowledging her brilliance in silence.
Sarah felt it.
She saw him.
And she knew he saw her.
His attention was not heavy—it was refined.
Elegant.
As though his eyes spoke the language of families trained to bury emotion beneath layers of courtesy.
But her heart…
did not respond.
Because every gentle gesture from Nicolo reminded her of someone who was not gentle.
Someone who never brought food.
Never covered shoulders.
Never watched in quiet admiration.
Levi had done none of that.
Yet he lived in her mind
as though there were no one else.
And one night, when she fell asleep over long pages of research, she felt a light blanket settle over her body.
She did not open her eyes.
But for one fleeting moment, she imagined that the hand which had done so
was not Nicolo's.
It was someone else's.
Someone who did not know how to express himself—
yet occupied her thoughts endlessly.
She smiled without realizing it.
Then turned her face away,
as if fleeing from the truth.
Yet, Despite Everything…
Yet, through all those moments, Sarah's heart now knew only Levi.
The thought of him followed her relentlessly—at every hour, in every breath.
No matter how hard she tried to distance herself or drown her mind in work, he remained there, occupying every corner of her heart.
Flashback — "Ink That Cannot Hold the Heart"
On a quiet night inside the Queen's palace, Sarah sat alone in her room, facing a small wooden desk.
Before her lay a blank sheet of paper, a dark-ink pen, and an open window gazing into a sky that offered no answers.
In front of her were many letters she had written… and then torn apart.
In one of them, she had written:
"I'm sorry for all the chaos I brought into your life… for the horse ride, for opening the box of your memories."
She tore it up.
In another, she wrote:
"I wish you had held me instead of pushing me away."
She tore that one too.
Ten letters. Or more.
And every time, she felt that none of them truly captured what was overwhelming her.
She could not speak the truth—
nor could she lie to him with words.
Then… she wrote:
"My scent is still in the place…
Sometimes, what we leave behind weighs more than what we carry with us.
Look carefully… you might find me there."
She read the sentence in silence.
It wasn't a letter—it was a trace.
Not words, but a confession that needed no explanation.
That was her way of leaving him something…
without hurting him,
and without exposing herself.
She placed the paper aside and closed the perfume bottle.
Then she murmured:
"If you care… you'll understand.
And if you don't… then there's no need for me to explain."
She left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving everything as it was—
her scent, her message,
and a heart that no longer knew where it belonged.
When the mind falls silent, hearts begin to whisper.
Now, Sarah fights in her laboratory as if she were trying to save the world…
but in truth, she is trying to save herself from drowning.
Will the next experiment become a key to hope—
or the beginning of collapse?
Will Levi remain silent until he loses her?
Or will jealousy finally ignite the courage he has suppressed for so long?
At the end of the week, a new chapter will be revealed—
but only if you are there.
Write to me.
Give me your hearts, your comments, your encouragement.
Because I do not write with my pen alone—
I write with my heart.
And I need to know if this heart is worth continuing.
Will Sarah succeed in her experiment?
Will Nicolo confess his feelings to her?
Will Sarah fall for Nicolo and forget Levi?
And what will Levi do… when silence is no longer enough?
If you're still here, I need you.
How many of you have read every chapter so far?
Did Sarah make the right choice by staying?
Is Levi's silence breaking… or becoming dangerous?
And what would you do — leave a message, or disappear quietly?
Leave a comment.
Leave a thought.
Leave a trace.
Because stories live only when someone feels them.
Did Levi understand the message… or is it already too late?