As the echoes of laughter slowly faded, candles burning low and silverware retreating to the edges of the tables, Queen Historia rose with quiet grace. She lifted her glass lightly, her gaze sweeping the hall with calm, unmistakable authority.
Her voice was clear—steady, yet resolute.
"I have given this much thought," she said. "As we enter the phase of reconstruction, I believe it would be best to deploy some forces to the outer edges of the island to secure the borders.
As for the Survey Corps… I prefer they remain here in the capital for a temporary period. We will need them—not only for military purposes, but for political and diplomatic considerations as well."
A heavy silence fell over the hall, like a breath no one dared to release.
Some nodded in respectful agreement. Others exchanged brief glances.
But Levi—
Levi remained still. Silent. Rigid.
As if the announcement had pressed against a wound he wasn't ready to acknowledge.
His brows drew together, his eyes fixed on Historia—not in defiance, but in a question he could not yet answer.
Why now?
And why us?
Yet inside him, it was not only the queen's words that echoed—but Nicolo's voice from moments earlier:
"If the war ends… what will you do? And what will she do?"
The words had not left him. They had settled deep within, like a knot in his chest.
Like a thorn in a heart long accustomed to pain.
Beside him, Hange watched with her practiced eye, then smiled with faint mischief and leaned closer, whispering:
"Well then, Captain… looks like you'll be spending more time around people you care about. Doesn't it?"
She raised an eyebrow, hinting at something she didn't quite dare say aloud.
Levi answered sharply, his restraint fraying:
"Stop. I don't need your sarcasm right now."
But as always, Hange didn't stop.
She leaned in further, her tone warmer now—almost gentle—as if offering advice wrapped in a smile:
"Just a thought, Captain…
sometimes, opportunities don't come twice."
Then she pulled away with a soft laugh, leaving behind a trail of unanswered possibilities.
Levi didn't smile.
He didn't move.
His gaze no longer followed Historia—it found Sarah instead, standing on the other side of the hall, laughing quietly with Nicolo.
Candlelight glinted against the necklace still resting at her throat.
A necklace he had placed there with his own hands.
Not as a declaration… but as an escape.
Was I running from her… or toward her?
And why does everything suddenly feel so fragile—only now?
Levi returned to his room late.
He didn't feel physically exhausted, despite the long hours of standing alert in a hall crowded with tangled conversations.
Yet his entire body ached under the weight of something unseen.
He closed the door slowly behind him, as if afraid of the sound it might make. He stood motionless in the darkness for a moment, then removed his coat and tossed it carelessly onto the chair.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, his back curved, his hands clasped between his knees, his eyes fixed on the worn wooden floor—
as though the wood itself held the answer.
He didn't regret what he had done on the balcony.
But he also… didn't understand why he had done it.
Were you trying to escape?
Or were you trying to confess something you don't even have a name for?
He pressed his palms to his face, fingers digging into his temples, trying to silence the voice inside him.
That moment hadn't been romantic.
It hadn't even been planned.
It was a slip of the heart—
as if something inside him had cracked and spilled beyond the walls of his solitude.
He remembered her eyes beneath the starlight—confused, uncertain, as if she too didn't know how to respond to what had happened.
He remembered how his fingers brushed her skin as he placed the necklace around her neck…
and the tremor he couldn't tell belonged to which of them.
"What the hell am I doing?"
he muttered through clenched teeth, betrayed by his own words.
He stood slowly, moved to the window, opened it just enough to let the cold air strike his face.
He needed that.
Something to steady him.
Was Nicolo right?
You're just a weapon of war. What will you do when the war ends?
The words lashed at his mind like a whip.
He had no title.
No noble name.
No future written in royal ink.
All he owned… was survival.
"And what," he wondered bitterly,
"do I even offer her?"
The thought cut deep.
A man who kills—what place does he have beside a woman who saves lives?
He turned slowly and sat at the small table, staring at a blank sheet of paper for a long time.
He didn't know what he wanted to write… or for whom.
Should he tell Historia he wanted to be sent to the island's borders?
Request a mission?
Escape—professionally?
Bury something that hadn't yet been born, before she could see it and believe in it?
He imagined her noticing his absence one day…
Why did you leave so suddenly?
And he found no answer.
Because I was afraid?
Or because I know I don't belong to a life that has room for two hearts?
He lifted his head and stared at his reflection in the window glass.
The same eyes that had witnessed death countless times
could no longer understand life when it dared to come close.
He thought about retreating.
Stopping.
Convincing himself that what happened meant nothing.
That the necklace was just a gift—nothing more.
That the balcony was just a moment of weakness—nothing more.
That his heart meant nothing… nothing more.
But another voice—deep, exhausted—kept whispering:
And will you spend the rest of your life hiding?
Even from yourself?
Sarah's Hesitation — A Necklace Unlike All Before
In her room, Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight, though she felt as if something invisible were weighing down her shoulders.
In the palm of her hand rested the necklace Levi had placed around her neck moments ago.
She didn't see it as jewelry.
She didn't look at it as a gift.
She looked at it the way one looks at a question with no answer.
Her finger traced the cool metal slowly.
It wasn't overly shiny.
Not ornate.
Simple… yet precise.
The kind of piece crafted by someone who understands the value of detail.
And that—
that was what unsettled her most.
"Why me?" she whispered, her voice weary, closer to disbelief than protest.
She hadn't asked him for anything.
Hadn't hinted.
Hadn't even allowed herself the space to dream.
Her heart was never on the agenda to begin with—
it was already full of one thing only: Layla.
So why did he do this?
And why now?
She lifted the necklace closer to her face, studying it as if trying to decipher a new language…
Did he mean something by it?
Was it a moment of weakness?
Or a silent confession—
from a man who never confesses?
A Heart That Doesn't Ask… Unsure Who It Beats For
Sarah knew that Levi was not a man who revealed his feelings easily.
In truth, his silence alone was enough to unsettle any woman less steady than she was.
But she was not less steady—she was simply… more tired.
Everything about that moment—
the way he approached her,
the tone of his voice, suspended between calm and fracture,
even the hesitation in his fingers when they brushed her skin—
was heavy with everything left unsaid.
But what did it mean?
Was it a confession?
Or merely a moment of weakness in a night too gentle for war?
She rose slowly and walked to the mirror.
She stood before her reflection, the necklace resting against her neck as if it had always belonged there… and had decided to stay.
She met her own gaze—the gaze of a scientist, not a confused woman—and whispered with a firmness she tried to believe:
"Don't be weak, Sarah.
You can't drift toward something that has no name, no face."
Yet despite those measured words,
her heart stood on the other side of reason,
kicking down every wall she tried to build.
Each time her thoughts returned to that moment—to his eyes—
she felt something threaten to pull her under:
a longing…
a longing to understand him,
to know what stirred inside his mind,
and why he always seemed on the verge of leaving.
She lay back on the bed slowly.
Her hand rested on the necklace, as though asking a question that could not be spoken.
Then she whispered into the darkness:
"If this is how he feels…
why does he always seem to be running?"
And amid the hush of the pillow and the shadows on the ceiling,
a voice rose from a past that had never truly died.
Layla.
She remembered her words, the way Layla would hold her hand and smile as if she knew everything:
"When something feels wrong, ask.
Don't stay trapped in confusion.
You deserve an answer—
even if it's not the one you hope for."
Sarah smiled for the first time that night—
a small smile, like warmth reaching her from far away.
"I'll ask him… tomorrow."
She closed her eyes, Layla's face clear before her, and whispered as if she were there:
"I wish you were with me now, Layla.
You would have made this simpler…
or made me confess louder.
I'm drawn to him,
since that day in the mountains… when I slipped and he nearly carried me entirely."
She laughed softly, embarrassed by herself, then added in a murmur:
"But will this attraction grow into love?
I don't know…
and I'm not sure this is the right time to find out."
She grasped the necklace again, pressed it to her chest as if holding what she could not say,
and slowly drifted to sleep…
hoping the answer would come tomorrow—
or that Layla, somehow, had heard her.
Flashback – "The Jealousy That Forged a Necklace"
On that gray morning, as the capital's carriages prepared to depart,
Sarah stood at the palace gate, saying goodbye to those who remained.
She didn't look long toward Levi,
who stood in the shadows as he always did…
but she wore the same necklace she always wore around her neck—
that simple little heart.
Despite the calm on his face, questions burned inside him:
"Who gave her that necklace?
Why does she cling to it?
Why does it feel like it carries a memory that isn't mine?"
He watched her laugh with Armin,
watched her fingers brush her pendant gently,
as though soothing a past that refused to fade.
In that moment, it wasn't mere jealousy.
It was something deeper—
a hollow realization that he owned nothing in her world,
not even a keepsake.
That night, when silence settled over the headquarters,
Levi entered his room and shut the door tightly behind him.
He pulled a small box from a hidden drawer in his desk.
He had no skill in crafting jewelry.
Yet with his strong hands, he began shaping a simple piece—
one meant to hold everything he could not give voice to.
"Not because you asked for anything…
but because I want to be something you won't forget."
With every detail he etched,
her image passed before him—
her eyes when she spoke,
the tilt of her head when she laughed,
her voice when she said, "I won't be gone long…"
But he knew…
sometimes, a little distance is enough
to create something unforgettable.
No clear words were spoken.
No confession was written.
Yet hearts that feared closeness had begun to whisper.
Sarah and Levi—
both standing at the edge of a feeling beyond words.
And at that edge…
the real story may finally begin.
Do you think Levi is afraid of loving Sarah… or afraid of what loving her would change in him?
don't ask for much…
Just one word is enough 💫
(Beautiful / Painful / I loved it / I didn't like it)
Your voice is what keeps this story alive.