On Evenings Like This…
On evenings like this—
when time slows beneath the starlight,
when conflicts melt into the quiet of music,
the heart is no longer bound by rules,
and the mind can no longer restrain the storm of feeling.
Sarah—who faced the world without hesitation—
found herself at last standing on a small balcony,
afraid to speak the name her heart was beating for.
And there, behind her…
was Levi.
The Reception Hall – After Dinner | Melodies, Candlelight, and Whispers of the Past
After dinner, a small ensemble from the capital began to play soft classical melodies—
music that flowed between old instruments the way memories slip through hearts worn thin by history.
The glow of candlelight turned the hall into something that felt less lived in and more remembered,
and the scattered laughter seemed to conceal depths far greater than what was spoken aloud.
Guests gathered in small circles, and between melody and stillness, side conversations bloomed—
like flowers that never grow in plain sight.
At the Side Table – Eren, Mikasa, and Kasper
Eren spoke in a low voice, growing quieter with every word,
while Mikasa listened patiently and Kasper studied Eren's expression with quiet focus.
Eren (tense, subdued):
"I saw everything… Grisha, Dina, Zeke.
But I still don't understand why my father chose silence.
Why he didn't tell us the truth while he was alive.
Why he left us to uncover it only after he became a memory—
as if his truth was never meant for us, but for ghosts watching from afar."
Kasper (with a long sigh):
"Because some truths, Eren, are not spoken…
they are buried."
Mikasa (softly):
"And did Grisha bury a part of Zeke with them?"
Kasper:
"He buried everything.
Grisha loved Zeke—but didn't know how.
And Dina… she was a woman who swallowed her rage behind a smile.
None of them were ready to be parents.
They were soldiers before they were human."
Eren fell silent for a long moment, then said:
Eren:
"And that's what I refuse to become—
neither a blind soldier… nor an absent father."
Mikasa glanced at him, her eyes flickering with a quiet, unspoken fear—
but she said nothing.
At the Central Table – Sarah and Nicolo
Nicolo laughed softly as he took another spoonful of the dessert Sarah had prepared,
wiping his mouth with a linen napkin.
Nicolo (warmly):
"I should retire and let you run the kitchen.
This dessert? No beginner could make this."
Sarah (smiling shyly):
"It's just an old recipe…
from a woman who forgot what comfort tasted like—
so she decided to make it with her own hands."
He looked at her for a long moment, then spoke quietly:
Nicolo:
"And the dress?
It seems you haven't forgotten how to be a woman."
Sarah glanced at the folds of her red gown, smiled—
yet something in her heart remained still.
Sarah:
"I was trying to remember how…
after forgetting for so long."
By One of the Sofas – Historia and Jean
Historia sat holding a glass of juice,
while Jean perched on the edge of the sofa, scanning the room before speaking:
Jean:
"Who would've thought this hall would witness celebration… instead of blood?"
Historia (thoughtfully):
"And who would've thought I'd be sitting here… as queen."
She spoke slowly, lifting her gaze to the decorated ceiling, then continued:
Historia:
"Sometimes I wish he were here…
to see that his sacrifices weren't in vain."
Jean (quietly):
"He didn't need to see victory.
It was enough that he planted the seed of meaning."
By the Fireplace – Levi and Hange
Hange was watching Sarah from afar, a small smile on her lips as she noticed Nicolo laughing once again. She turned toward Levi, who was silently refilling his glass, and said with playful sarcasm:
Hange (taking a sip):
"Oh? The great captain has suddenly taken an interest in food… or is it the red?"
He didn't look at her, replying dryly:
Levi:
"Nicolo talks too much."
Hange (teasing):
"And it seems Sarah is listening to him more than she's listened to you all week."
Silence.
Levi's eyes drifted toward Sarah without comment. Then he said suddenly:
Levi:
"That dress… it doesn't look like her."
Hange (raising an eyebrow):
"Or are you afraid it looks too much like her… and a little too much like you?"
He shot her a sideways glance, but she didn't retreat. Instead, she continued with a mischievous smile:
Hange:
"She's changing… and you?"
He didn't answer.
He only stared into his glass, as if it were a mirror, and found nothing in it but his old reflection.
In a corner of the hall, where conversations faded and the lights grew softer, Sarah felt a need for different air—air that hadn't passed through other people's lungs.
She took her glass and moved quietly toward the balcony, as if she were leaving the world, not the room.
The stars above seemed closer than usual, as if they were listening… or waiting for a truth that was never spoken.
She stood there, the breeze brushing through her hair, carrying traces of her scent and scattering them into the night.
She wasn't sure what hurt more—Leila's absence, the weight of what she had learned tonight, or Levi's gaze, which was no longer ordinary.
Soft footsteps cut through the stillness.
She didn't turn around, yet she recognized his presence before his voice reached her.
Levi (quietly):
"You don't look like yourself tonight."
She looked at him, her eyes catching a light that had nothing to do with the stars, and replied with a tone that sounded neutral on the surface, though turmoil churned beneath:
Sarah:
"I'm not trying to."
He stepped closer, stopping beside her, not crossing the invisible line between them.
He looked different too—not just because of the formal attire he rarely wore, but because of something unseen… something closer to restrained tension.
Levi:
"I wanted to give you something."
She looked at him, a question unspoken in her eyes.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object wrapped in dark cloth, then unfolded it slowly.
A slender silver necklace, simple and understated, with a small winged symbol engraved in an ancient Paradis script.
Levi (glancing aside, his voice low):
"It doesn't carry a grand meaning… but it isn't from Marley."
She said nothing—yet she understood.
She understood that he wasn't giving her jewelry.
He was lifting something of her past from her shoulders…
and offering her something that belonged to the present.
Her hand hesitated as she reached for the necklace,
but he lifted it calmly—he did not ask for permission.
For the first time, he stepped that close, then placed the chain gently around her neck.
His fingers brushed her skin in a touch that was never meant to be deliberate.
His heart was pounding—not loudly, but with a strange steadiness…
as if, for the first time, it had decided to listen.
Sarah (in a shaken whisper):
"Why… now?"
He answered without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon:
Levi:
"I'm not a man of gifts… but I am a man of memory.
And I wanted you to remember that you are here—
with those who want you to stay."
She lowered her gaze to the necklace, her fingers tracing it as if testing the weight of its meaning.
She couldn't tell whether her heart was tightening… or finally calming.
Sarah (barely audible):
"Sometimes, gifts confuse us more than pain."
He replied, still without meeting her eyes:
Levi:
"Maybe…
but I don't regret giving it—
even if it's never worn."
She finally looked at him.
A long look.
Not the look of a woman receiving a compliment,
but the look of someone witnessing something new being born—
and not knowing whether she owns it… or fears it.
Sarah:
"I have a thousand battlefronts in my mind…
but this necklace alone made me fall silent."
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips, barely there, barely alive.
Levi (glancing at her briefly):
"When words fail us… we give symbols."
Then he turned away, his steps quiet and controlled.
He left her there—alone with the stars, the necklace,
and the sound of her heart beating,
for the first time, beyond calculations.
He had just returned to the hall.
Levi's steps were calm as always—but weighted with something unfamiliar.
A strange feeling, as if a part of him had remained behind on that balcony.
He didn't expect, however, to meet a pair of eyes watching him from within.
Nicolo stood near the table, a glass in his hand.
His gaze was not lit by jealousy—but by something far more dangerous: concern.
Levi passed him without a word, but Nicolo cut the space between them with a single sentence.
Nicolo (coldly):
"Do you love her?"
Levi stopped.
He didn't turn around, yet the word pierced his stillness like an arrow.
Nicolo (continuing, eyes steady):
"It doesn't matter whether you admit it or deny it.
I've seen enough to know there is something there—
something that does not belong on a balcony beneath starlight."
Levi turned slowly, his eyes narrowing, as if deciding whether this was provocation or a test.
Levi (dryly):
"If you have something to say, say it clearly."
Nicolo stepped closer.
Nicolo:
"Fine. I don't even know if I'm attracted to her or not…
but I do know this—
I don't wish for her to live with someone like you."
He paused, then continued, his voice sharp—like a blade pressing against Levi's chest.
"She's a scientist.
A mind searching for meaning amid this ruin.
And you? The strongest soldier humanity has—
a weapon of war.
When the war ends… what will you do?
And what will she do?
Have you ever thought about that?
Or does your life end at the borders of the next battle?"
A heavy silence fell.
In another moment, Levi might have mocked him,
might have ended the conversation with a cutting remark.
But he didn't.
The words struck a nerve that had never been touched before.
What will I do if the war ends?
Who am I—
and who is she?
Something inside him tightened—
not anger, not regret,
but that raw emptiness born when a man realizes he doesn't know himself
outside the shadow he has always lived in.
And suddenly, his voice burst out—
less a reply, more an inner explosion:
Levi:
"And who said I admire her?
Or that I love her?!"
Nicolo raised an eyebrow and gestured toward Levi's neck.
Nicolo:
"Then what do you call that?
The necklace you placed around her neck—
with your own hands?"
A sharp silence.
No one else in the hall heard it—
but had they been there, they might have thought time itself paused.
Levi didn't answer.
He didn't look at Nicolo.
He simply turned away and walked off.
But inside his head, a voice roared without rest:
Who am I… and who is she?
Was I running from her—
or from myself?
And if I do not love her…
why does this question hurt so much?
That night,
Levi did not sleep.
Flashback – "When Autumn Carved His Feelings"
Autumn had begun to stretch its hand over Paradis Island…
Leaves fell gently, and the cold breeze slipped through the old windows.
In Levi's room—where nothing could be heard but the faint sound of a feather falling from somewhere unseen—
he sat at his desk in deep silence.
Before him lay a small box.
It held no official papers, no weapons… only delicate tools,
and in his hands, the smallest silver piece.
Sarah was in the capital.
Two months of distance—
yet she had left her mark behind,
in the room… and inside him.
He was not used to this feeling.
But this solitude, this autumn,
forced him to admit to himself something
he had never dared to say aloud.
He began shaping the thin piece of metal,
engraving something so subtle it was barely visible.
The necklace was simple—
but its details were like a map of his heart.
"If she returns… I will give it to her."
"And if she doesn't… I will keep it here."
(He placed a hand over his chest.)
He finished the necklace, placed it inside a small box lined with cotton,
then closed it—
just as he closed away all his feelings…
and waited.
Perhaps the words "I love you" were never spoken out loud…
but there are moments that say them with absolute clarity.
A glance.
A touch.
Or a necklace fastened around a neck with a trembling heartbeat.
And on that night, it wasn't only the stars that shone…
Silent hearts were whispering
what they did not dare to confess.
But… will this moment be written on the wall of the heart?
Or will dawn come and steal it away
the way dreams are stolen?
Do you agree with Niccolo?
Is Levi too broken by war to deserve love… or is love the only thing that can save him?