It was the third autumn since the truth of the world had been exposed—
yet it felt colder than all the seasons before it.
Not because of the weather… but because of the answers.
A dry draft slipped through the narrow laboratory window, sending a faint tremor through the pages of a notebook spread across the stone table.
Sarah lifted her eyes from the vial she had been staring at for minutes now, and for the first time, she felt that time was no longer moving forward…
but circling endlessly, trapped in a repeating cycle of failure.
Two months had passed.
Dozens of mice.
Dozens of injections.
Dozens of identical endings.
The results always collapsed into the same three grim outcomes:
Either immediate death.
Or a violent, uncontrollable transformation.
Or a brief return to normal size—followed by instant death,
as if life itself refused to come back.
Sarah wrote in a trembling hand:
"Mouse #17: Shrunk after ten seconds. Cardiac arrest occurred in the fifth second following reversion to normal size."
"Mouse #18: Entered an unstable transformed state. Severe neurological and behavioral deformities. Terminated via sedative injection."
She squeezed her eyes shut, layered images flooding her mind—
images of hope unraveling, of a dream that had been closer than it seemed.
She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible:
"Maybe… I'm searching in the wrong direction."
But before despair could fully take hold, the back door opened quietly.
Nicolo stepped inside, carrying a small tray with a cup of hot tea and a few pieces of freshly baked bread.
"You forgot to eat again," he said gently, placing the tray beside her.
She didn't answer.
Her gaze drifted from her trembling hands to Mouse #19 inside its cage.
"I'll try one last time today," she murmured, reaching for the next vial—
her eyes heavy with both exhaustion and defiance.
But this time… the mouse was different.
She injected it carefully. Watched.
Its body began to convulse, then expanded grotesquely, just as it always did.
It screeched loudly, slamming against the cage walls, desperate to escape.
She moved closer to administer the counter-dose—the serum meant to reverse the transformation.
But the instant she extended her hand, the creature lunged wildly and sank its teeth into the back of her hand.
"Ah!" Sarah cried out, recoiling as blood immediately welled from her wrist.
Nicolo rushed forward, seized the frantic mouse, sealed it inside a containment box, then hurried back to her.
"Sit down," he ordered sharply, pulling over a chair and forcing her gently into it.
He opened the first-aid kit with practiced speed, disinfected the wound, wrapped it in clean gauze, then secured a tight bandage—
his breathing quick, strained with worry.
"It could have hurt you far worse," he said tensely.
"This is madness, Sarah. Why won't you wait for more support?"
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy—but she wasn't crying from the pain.
"I just…" her voice broke softly,
"I don't want to end like them. I want something… something that will be remembered when all this ruin is over."
Before Nicolo could answer, a soft knock echoed at the door.
Armin appeared in the doorway, holding a small envelope, his face unusually pale.
"Sorry to interrupt… may I come in?"
Sarah nodded, while Nicolo quickly wiped away the bloodstains and straightened the table.
Armin stepped inside, removing his cap, and said quietly:
"A message arrived from Yelena… from outside the island.
It's about Zeke… and Layla."
Sarah's head snapped up. Her bandaged hand froze midair.
"Layla?!"
Armin nodded, handing her the paper.
"They seem to know she's being held in one of the camps. The message is encrypted, but it indicates she's alive… she hasn't been killed."
It felt as though Sarah's breath returned after a long absence.
"Alive…?" she whispered.
Armin studied her carefully, then glanced at her injured hand.
"How long have you been hurting yourself for mice?" he asked gently.
Sarah gave a bitter laugh.
"Since I realized that humans behave like mice too… once fear is injected into their veins."
Armin didn't respond—but he sensed something shifting within her.
Something hardening with every failure… yet refusing to break.
She clutched the letter, wiping away tears she couldn't tell apart—
whether they were for her hand, her sister, or for someone who was no longer beside her.
Then Armin said:
"There'll be a meeting in a week. Hange wants to hear everything—any progress, any hope… even if it's small."
Sarah nodded silently.
Nicolo glanced at them both, then murmured as he quietly stepped out:
"This autumn is long… but it won't last forever."
And Sarah was left alone—
the letter in one hand, the bandage in the other,
her eyes fixed on the cage that still trembled.
Scout Headquarters – Autumn on the Faces of the Absent
Armin returned to headquarters late in the evening, the sky dripping with cold and loneliness, as if it were weeping on behalf of those who no longer had tears left to shed. His coat was damp, and the sound of his voice preceded his footsteps as he entered, carrying with it the scent of autumn… and the news they had been waiting for far too long.
He placed his cap on the table in silence and looked around at the exhausted faces.
Jean toyed with his empty cup.
Connie leaned against the wall, trying to appear calm.
Mikasa sat in the corner, her gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the window.
And Levi…
Levi was there too.
Seated as always— a solid mass of silence— his eyes drifting into nothingness, as if nothing in the room deserved his attention. Yet despite everything, Armin addressed him first.
"I found her, Levi."
Mikasa's eyebrows lifted slightly. Jean and Connie exchanged a quick glance.
Only Levi did not look up— as though hearing her name alone was enough to ignite something inside him, something he did not dare to face.
Armin continued, his voice low but weighted with a truth deeper than words:
"She's still there… working, trying, collapsing and getting back up, over and over. But… she's not the same. Sarah has become a shadow of herself. Painfully thin. Pale. She barely sleeps— only collapsing over her notebooks— and her hands tremble as if pain flows straight through them."
He took a deep breath before adding:
"And her eyes… I've never seen them like that before. As if she falls asleep in an endless autumn… and wakes up in a war that never lays down its weapons."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then Armin added, his voice steady but careful:
"Nicolo is the one taking care of her. He cooks. He waits. He smiles when she doesn't. One day, during an experiment, a transformed mouse attacked her— her hand was injured… and he was the one who bandaged it. Alone."
Jean turned toward Levi then, his eyes holding no flattery, only exhaustion mixed with restrained respect and a trace of dry irony.
"Captain Levi… an entire month has passed, and the capital hasn't seen your shadow once. The lab is there. Sarah is there. Even the fog is there. Yet you— as usual— stayed here, watching the walls as if they might crumble the moment you blink."
He paused, then continued more seriously:
"I don't blame you… but doesn't she deserve at least a glance? A letter? Even a whisper— something to remind her that Captain Levi remembers she's still fighting alone?"
His words were like a cold breeze slipping into a weary heart. Levi did not move, but his gaze lowered slightly, his brow tightening as if he had taken a blow he knew he deserved.
Scout Headquarters – After Dinner – A Silence That Thinks
The group dispersed after dinner, but the three of them remained seated around the wooden table. Cups of tea stood untouched before them.
Armin spoke first, quietly:
"I visited the lab two days ago… Sarah is still trying."
Mikasa looked at him, her brows knitting together.
"Any progress?"
He shook his head.
"Not yet. The latest experiments were more organized… but the result is the same: repeated failure. She's exhausted, but she hasn't stopped."
Mikasa fell silent for a moment, then murmured:
"And Levi…? Why hasn't he gone to the capital yet? A month and a half has passed."
Armin sighed, turning his gaze toward the window as though the answer lay somewhere beyond it.
"Maybe… because he hasn't decided what he feels yet."
She didn't respond.
But Eren suddenly lifted his head, his voice low:
"And is everything still moving the way it should… as if the future is repeating itself?"
Mikasa stared at him, confused.
He continued without explanation:
"I mean… has anything changed? Does she seem… different?"
Armin answered carefully:
"Sarah? Different? …Yes, in a way. She's quieter. More focused. But she still believes change is possible."
Eren did not respond immediately.
Instead, he said softly, as if measuring a shadow no one else could see:
"One butterfly is enough to create chaos… or to end a curse."
Mikasa looked at him with concern.
"Eren… what do you mean?"
He smiled faintly, without answering.
And in his mind, a single question echoed:
Are the threads still in my hands?
Or has that small butterfly already begun to unravel them?
The Commander's Office – The Scent of Tea and the Remnants of Autumn
The evening had begun to grow colder, yet Levi's office felt warmer than usual.
The small stove in the corner cast soft orange shadows across the stone walls, while an oil lamp on the desk illuminated a handful of scattered papers in quiet stillness.
Armin entered after being summoned.
He did not know the reason—but he expected it.
And he was right.
Levi gestured silently toward the chair opposite him, then poured himself some tea without looking up.
In his usual low voice, he asked:
"Tell me… how is she?"
Armin paused, studying the commander's face—so carefully composed, revealing nothing.
"You mean… Sarah?"
Levi nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the cup.
Armin swallowed, then spoke carefully:
"She's… alive. Working nonstop. Thin… exhausted… but stubborn, as always. She barely eats unless forced. And Nicolo—"
He stopped, as if reconsidering, then gathered his courage.
"Nicolo takes care of her. Genuinely. He's with her most of the time. I think he… has feelings for her. He just doesn't say anything."
Levi looked up suddenly.
A brief glance—sharp as a blade catching light.
"I— I'm sorry," Armin added quickly.
"I didn't mean anything. I just thought you'd want to know."
Levi said nothing.
He stared into the fire for a moment, as if searching for an answer older than the question itself.
Armin changed his tone. Took a deep breath.
"Commander… with all due respect… if you care about her, why don't you go to her?"
Silence.
"She doesn't need a doctor," Armin continued, voice trembling but resolute.
"Or food. She needs one thing only—someone she can trust not to leave her. She needs you. Because you're the only one who makes her stronger."
The words sank into the room like stones dropped into still water.
Levi did not respond at once.
Then he slowly looked at Armin—eyes carrying exhaustion… and guilt.
"I'm afraid," he finally said, barely audible.
Armin lifted his head, stunned.
"I'm afraid that if I go… I'll weaken her instead of strengthening her," Levi continued, his voice steady on the surface, fractured beneath.
"I'm afraid she'll see me and lose her balance. That she'll learn what I can't say. That she'll see things in my face I don't deserve."
Silence settled again.
"My fear isn't seeing her," Levi added bitterly.
"It's being seen."
Armin whispered, not sure whether he spoke to himself or to Levi:
"But she's seen you from the beginning—even when you weren't there."
Without warning, Levi reached into a side drawer and pulled out a small envelope sealed with red wax.
He slid it across the desk.
"This is for her."
Armin took it, surprised.
"Should I… tell her anything from you?"
Levi shook his head.
"Just tell her," he said quietly, eyes on the fire,
"that autumn does not always mean death."
**❖ The Capital – Morning of the Meeting
08:45 AM**
Sarah sat in the corner of the laboratory, her head resting against the wall, eyes half-closed from exhaustion.
She hadn't slept the night before—she had barely breathed.
A blank page lay in her hands.
A dry quill refused to move.
Even Nicolo—despite his kindness and constant attempts—could not break the autumnal stillness that had settled in her heart.
The outer bell rang.
Armin entered cautiously, holding something small, as though the air itself might make it fall.
He smiled when he saw her.
She did not return it—only nodded faintly.
He sat beside her.
"You've sent us thousands of reports," he said gently,
"but this message… is different."
Her gaze drifted to his hand.
It trembled when she saw the envelope sealed with red wax.
"From… whom?" she whispered hoarsely.
"From him," Armin replied softly, placing it in her palm.
"He only said—tell her that autumn does not always mean death."
Her features froze.
Long seconds passed before she dared reach for the seal, as if afraid it might dissolve between her fingers.
She opened it.
Her heart was anything but calm—it shook inside her, as if it had finally heard its name after a long absence.
[The Letter – Levi's precise, cold handwriting]
You are fighting too much… and forgetting that a soldier is not only required to stay alive—but to remain human.
Sometimes, defeat is not in a failed experiment, but in forgetting who you are.
No one in the capital writes like this.
No one breathes like this.
I want to see you standing—as you were on the first day.
Not broken, but killing defeat itself.
I'll see you soon… if there is still room for winter in the heart.
Her throat tightened.
Then the tears came—silent, unstoppable.
It was as if the wall she had built around herself over the past month and a half cracked open with a single sentence:
I'll see you soon.
Armin watched as she covered her face with both hands, breathing deeply, as though remembering how to live after forgetting.
He didn't ask anything.
He simply said:
"The meeting will start in an hour.
If you need time… everyone will wait."
And he left.
Sarah remained still for a moment—then rose suddenly.
She went to the washroom.
Bathed in warm water for the first time in days.
She opened her small wardrobe, chose a simple gray outfit, combed her short hair, and dabbed a hint of mint oil on her neck—just as she used to before every important lecture in Marley.
She stood before the mirror.
"I am Sarah," she whispered.
"Not the shadow of despair—but a light that arrived late."
She smiled.
**❖ The Capital – High Council Chamber
10:15 AM**
Morning light streamed through the tall windows as the island's senior leaders gathered around the long oak table.
Pixis sat at the head.
Nile beside him.
Zackly leaned back, observing with narrowed eyes.
At the far end stood Queen Historia—calm, unwavering—with Nicolo behind her like a living shadow.
Armin sat at the center, papers perfectly arranged.
Sarah entered.
Her steps were quiet—but steady.
Her hair still damp.
Her eyes clear for the first time in weeks.
She bowed lightly to the queen.
"Thank you for coming," she said calmly.
"I have something new. I only ask for time—not a miracle."
A brief silence.
Zackly broke it:
"You've been saying that for a month and a half."
"Yes," Sarah replied evenly.
"And today, I say it with different confidence. Failure is not shame. Stopping is."
She placed a page before each person.
"The experiments conducted so far on mice resulted in three outcomes:
• Immediate death upon injection.
• Unstable titan transformation ending in death.
• Return to normal size followed by instant death."
She looked up.
"This means the serum does not kill—it awakens something dormant. Something we do not yet understand."
Pixis spoke:
"What do you propose?"
Sarah inhaled.
"The formula needs adjustment—days of work. But more than that… I believe royal blood may be the key. I don't yet have proof."
Eyes widened.
"Using the queen's blood?" Nile asked.
Historia spoke calmly:
"If it helps end this… I do not object."
Sarah hesitated, then said softly:
"In Marley, I searched for ways to escape death.
Here… I'm searching for a way to live."
Silence followed—this time, respectful.
"And if you fail again?" a general asked.
"War is approaching. Koslow will not wait."
"Even if I fail," Sarah replied firmly,
"failure today is better than suicide tomorrow."
She met their eyes.
"I ask for no political support. Only seven days.
If I achieve nothing—you may decide freely."
Zackly closed his eyes briefly.
"Give her the seven days."
Pixis nodded.
"Go. Return with truth—not hope."
Outside, autumn leaves fell gently onto the capital streets.
Sarah walked back toward the laboratory—
a notebook in her hand,
a promise in her heart.
She no longer needed to prove she deserved to stay.
Now, she fought to prove that nothing she endured was in vain.
Only the butterfly knows how to change the wind—
without ever creating a storm.
❓ Do you think Levi's words were enough to bring Sarah back to life… or did they come too late?
❓ Do you believe Niccolo's feelings for Sarah are genuine? And could he truly become a rival to Levi?
❓ If you were in Historia's place… would you be willing to offer your blood for an experiment that might fail? Or would fear of the unknown hold you back?