❖ A New Morning After the Balcony Moment
Autumn had settled gently over the castle, scattering its golden leaves across courtyards still damp with the night's dew. In the training grounds, the sound of footsteps and clashing blades echoed steadily, as if life itself were insisting on continuing over yesterday's ashes.
Sarah was not part of that noisy scene.
She walked calmly through the shadows, wearing an autumn dress in shades of chestnut and honey, layered with a simple jacket that softly defined her waist. A gray woolen hat rested lightly over her freely flowing hair. She looked different from the night before—
as though the passing darkness had reshaped her…
or awakened something long asleep within her.
As she approached the training hall, she found Historia waiting for her.
Historia (in a calm voice):
"I heard you went out early this morning. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay still."
Sarah (meeting her gaze directly):
"I won't take a single step forward—no mission, no research, no training—until I receive clear news about Laila. That is my right."
Historia paused for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly, lifting her head with quiet pride.
Historia:
"You're right. Nothing will be asked of you until that news reaches you.
Sarah… you've changed. And I believe that change is exactly what we needed here."
Sarah:
"I haven't changed.
I just stopped pretending."
A faint smile touched the queen's lips before she added warmly:
Historia:
"From this moment on… you are an honored guest. No orders. No questions. Only your choice."
Sarah nodded softly and continued toward the courtyard, where the sounds of training still lingered in the air. She had no intention of fighting, nor even observing attack patterns.
She was looking for one face.
A face that seemed to be hiding from her since last night.
A small necklace rested against her chest, brushing her heart with every breath she took.
She touched it from time to time, as if reassuring herself that it was real.
But the only thing that felt unreal…
was the silence Levi had left behind.
❖ The Collision of Distance and Desire
Sarah was speaking with Niccolo at the edge of the training grounds, exchanging a few casual words about food and drills.
But her tone was distant—
as though her voice no longer followed her thoughts,
only trying to drown out another sound within her…
a sound she was afraid to hear.
Then—
the noise faded.
From a distance, Levi appeared.
He walked slowly, yet with unmistakable presence.
Not in his military uniform, but in simple attire:
a dark gray jacket, a white shirt open at the collar—
a restrained simplicity, carrying a quiet, lethal allure.
The kind that doesn't announce itself…
it's simply felt.
Something trembled in Sarah's chest.
Something she hadn't prepared for.
Seeing him like this—specifically like this—
felt as if it had unlocked emotions she had deliberately imprisoned
since the night on the balcony.
Niccolo noticed the absent look in her eyes.
She gently cut the conversation short.
"Excuse me," she said softly. "I need to speak with him."
And she walked toward Levi.
Not like a hesitant woman—
but like one who had decided not to let unfinished things keep devouring her.
"Good morning, Captain," she said in a calm, deep voice.
Then added, with a barely-there smile,
"Is everything all right?"
Levi stopped.
He didn't answer immediately.
His eyes—those eyes that rarely revealed anything—
searched her face this time,
as though he was seeing something unfamiliar in her…
something he wasn't used to.
Then he replied, his voice as flat as ever,
yet different—
as if the coldness had been chosen deliberately.
"Everything is fine. Continue your work."
A soft blow.
But Sarah was no longer the girl she used to be.
She took one step closer.
No hesitation. No retreat.
Her eyes now burned with a quiet fire—
the kind that ignites only when trust is fractured without explanation.
"If there's something you want to say to me," she said steadily,
her calm weighed down by unspoken longing,
"then don't hold back."
She paused, then added—quiet, resolute:
"I believe I deserve clarity… after all of this."
A long moment passed.
You could hear the autumn leaves falling in the silence.
Finally, Levi spoke—
his voice low, as if the words were heavier than war itself.
"Some things are better left as they are."
He looked away before adding slowly:
"Closeness… isn't always the better choice."
He said it like a wound he understood—
yet couldn't stop himself from inflicting.
And he left her standing there,
suspended between a mind that whispered let it go,
and a heart that still trembled
from the weight of his presence.
❖ Shards of Silence
Those words were enough to leave a quiet ache in Sarah's chest.
They weren't sharp—yet they hurt in the way silence hurts at the funeral of a dream.
And still… she did not falter.
She looked at him calmly.
In her eyes, there was no tear—only pride.
Then she turned away and walked with steady steps, as if telling him without a voice:
"I will not chase doors that close on my heart twice."
❖ At the Edge of the Training Ground
From a distance, Eren and Armin exchanged a quick glance.
The silence between Sarah and Levi was louder than every shout of the soldiers.
Eren said with a crooked smile:
"Did you see his eyes?
It's like a civil war trapped inside one man."
Armin, ever the observer, replied quietly:
"Levi doesn't know how to love…
but he knows how to lose.
And that's what terrifies him."
Hange approached, light on her feet as if she'd heard everything, and said mischievously:
"If Sarah manages to melt his icy heart, I'll give her a medal in emotional neuroscience."
Jean laughed and added:
"I'll write a poem about it.
The captain who defeated Titans…
and almost fell to a single look."
Connie, tying his boots, raised an eyebrow:
"I bet he wages internal wars every time he sees her with Nicolo."
They laughed—
all except Armin, who said softly:
"He just needs time to understand that not every closeness is betrayal…
sometimes, closeness is the fortress."
❖ The Office of Shadows
That night, Hange sat on the edge of Levi's desk, her legs swinging slightly like a playful child before a stone statue.
Hange — with unapologetic mischief:
"You've brought down Titans, Levi…
but it seems Sarah brought down something far more difficult: your rigidity."
He didn't lift his head.
He simply shuffled through papers that meant nothing to him.
"Enough nonsense, Hange."
But she wasn't in the mood to retreat.
She leaned closer, studied his face, then spoke with an unexpected seriousness:
"You're hiding, Levi.
Not from her—but from yourself.
Sarah isn't a weakness… she might be your last chance to stop living like a severed heart."
He fell silent.
Folded the papers slowly.
Then he said—
as if confessing not to her, but to the emptiness of the room:
"Feelings aren't something I can afford to keep…
they're not meant for me."
She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with a sorrowful irony:
"Not even a little of them?"
He answered in a voice barely above a whisper:
"A little is enough to make me stop killing.
And enough to get one of us killed."
He turned toward the window, where the sunset dissolved against the glass of headquarters.
It wasn't the answer Hange wanted—
but it was the truth he feared running from more than any enemy.
The wall is cracking.
And the heart that learned only how to fight…
doesn't know how to battle itself
when its defenses collapse before a single face.
❖ The Oak Tree — Sleeping on an Autumn Branch
Midday settled over the palace gardens like a shy autumn smile.
The sun was gentle, the air carried the scent of damp earth, and laughter began to rise from the courtyard.
"Let's ease the tension,"
Jean called out, lifting his voice with an eager grin.
"Hide-and-seek! The winner gets… the last slice of autumn pumpkin cake!"
The Scouts laughed. Even Sasha agreed at once, Armin nodded, and everyone scattered. Eren was chosen as the seeker—eyes closed, counting aloud—while the others vanished among trees, behind stones, even up onto rooftops.
Sarah joined quietly, running alone toward the far edge of the back garden, where an ancient oak stood—vast and rooted, as if its trunk knew old stories. She climbed a branch with ease and sat there, a little above the world, breathing deeply, smiling from her core. Warm sunlight brushed her eyelids; the scent of autumn leaves slipped into her breath… and before she noticed, she fell asleep.
She slept with a calm that resembled childhood—
as if everything inside her had gone silent for a moment.
Minutes passed. Eren caught everyone—
even Mikasa, who tried to distract him. He smiled when he tagged her and said,
"You're not the fastest anymore…"
But when they called for Sarah, there was no answer.
"Sarah!"
"Did she go back inside?"
"Maybe she went for water?"
Nikolo felt the worry first. He scanned beyond the wall, his eyes moving faster than his heart. He ran inside, then returned, his voice rising:
"Where's Sarah?! Has anyone seen her?"
At that moment, Levi stood apart. He hadn't joined, hadn't spoken.
But something in Nikolo's tone lit his instincts.
He turned and walked—quietly—toward the back gardens. No rush, no noise. Just a silence he listened to.
He stopped beneath the oak.
A familiar scent rose to him—her scent. Soft. Calm. Like the moment before rain.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze… and saw her.
There, between the branches, her body curled, hair scattered like autumn leaves, her features serene—as if she were sleeping inside a dream that refused to end. In that instant, she was not a soldier, not a spy, not a strong woman—
she was simply Sarah.
Levi blinked, slowly. Something inside him cracked without a sound. He wanted to wake her, to tell her everyone was searching… but he stayed where he was.
Footsteps approached behind him. Nikolo.
Levi turned without leaving the oak's shadow. His voice came out cold, as if nothing in him moved:
"She's here. Asleep."
Nikolo hurried closer, looked up at her with concern, and whispered,
"Is she… is she okay?"
Levi didn't answer. He turned away and added as he walked off,
"You can wake her yourself and ask her."
Then he left—without looking back.
He left them behind.
And left a piece of his heart there too—
on an oak branch, above an autumn sleep,
between hands that had not yet touched him.
❖ The Confrontation There Was No Escaping
The castle lay silent, as if the night itself were holding its breath.
Sarah's footsteps along the stone corridor were not those of someone seeking comfort—
they were the steps of someone who had come to put an end to a storm.
She stopped before Levi's office door.
She raised her hand. One knock—calm, precise—
yet it sounded like a declaration of war.
From inside came his voice, sharp with steel-cold restraint:
"I don't want to talk to anyone. Leave."
She opened the door. She didn't ask permission.
She entered with steady resolve, as if the place already belonged to her.
He was seated behind the desk, back straight, one hand gripping its edge.
When he lifted his head, his eyes carried anger…
and a trace of guilt he had yet to name.
"What don't you understand?" he snapped, his tone knife-edged.
"I said get out."
She took a step forward.
Her voice did not tremble—but her heart burned fiercely beneath her ribs.
"Nicolo told me you found me first today."
For a split second—so brief only those who truly knew him could see it—
his grip on the desk loosened. Then the armor snapped back into place.
She continued, her gaze never leaving his:
"You were the first to arrive… and you left.
You didn't wake me. You didn't speak. You did nothing."
It wasn't a question.
It was an accusation without sound—and its truth weighed heavily in the air.
He didn't move, but tension coiled through him like a blade slowly drawn from its sheath.
"You want an explanation?" he said quietly—
not with anger, but with fear disguised as control.
She answered instantly, without blinking:
"I don't want an excuse. Just one truth. Why?"
The word hung between them, as if the walls themselves had swallowed it.
The man who feared no titans stood unmoving—
except for his eyes.
This time, he looked at her fully.
A brief glance—yet it was a silent confession of something far larger than words could hold.
Then he said, with an effort that sounded like bleeding:
"Some truths… don't save anyone."
She held her breath for a moment, then replied with measured sharpness:
"And sometimes… silence is the cruelest deception of all."
She stepped back, her retreat wrapped in a silence that screamed strength—
not tears.
The door remained open behind her.
And the storm between them had only just learned its name.
She stepped closer, her eyes searching for a crack in the wall of his composure:
"I want to understand, Levi… why do you ignore me? Why do you run?"
Her voice didn't tremble—it was steady, like someone who had decided not to bury her questions anymore.
"Why, after you gave me this necklace, did you choose to build a wall between us? And why don't you want to stay in the capital? Are you afraid of seeing me every day? Or are you more afraid of your own feelings than you ever were of any Titan you faced in your life?"
Her words pressed against a wound that had never healed.
His jaw tightened in silence, then he turned his face toward the wall—as if the shadows were kinder than meeting her eyes.
At last, he spoke, forcing his voice to sound sharp, though it betrayed him:
"Don't look for meaning… there wasn't anything. The necklace? A moment of weakness. It's over."
Her eyebrows lifted, disappointment clear but unbroken.
She answered with a calm that hid a storm:
"Over? Just like that? Then why can't I take it off?"
She touched the necklace at her throat—that small piece that had become heavier than stone.
"Maybe it's just metal… but I can't take it off. Not because it's precious—because it's from you. And that alone is enough to leave me confused."
Time seemed to pause between them.
His gaze was no longer harsh, but cautious now, as if she had stepped into a place he never wanted anyone to reach.
She continued, her voice unwavering:
"I'm a stranger on this land. I come from a world that calls this island an enemy. My sister is a hostage, and I'm hanging from a noose called time. If I had the luxury to toy with feelings, I wouldn't have chosen to draw close to a man who doesn't even know if his heart still beats."
She lifted her eyes to his—
a look that asked for nothing, yet said everything:
"And still… something inside me moves whenever I see you. I don't know if it's love, or just a fleeting longing for something that resembles safety—but it's there. And you know it's there."
He remained standing, rigid as ever, but words failed him.
He only looked at her—long and silent.
And for the first time, there was no coldness in his eyes…
only a real fear of losing her before he even dared to admit that, without knowing it, she already owned a part of him.
She stepped closer to him, the dim light casting her shadow across the floor, as though she were walking into a wound that had never healed.
She spoke with a strange calm:
"You are not running from war, Levi…
You are running from peace.
From the idea that someone might truly see you—and remain alive afterward."
His eyelids trembled for a fleeting moment.
As if her words had torn open a door that had long been sealed.
But he did not answer.
"Your silence doesn't frighten me," she continued, her voice steady, breaking what was inside, not what was visible.
"What frightens me… is that you may have convinced yourself you deserve nothing more than this ruin."
He finally lifted his gaze.
There was no anger in his eyes now—only something caught between exhaustion and guilt.
"Sarah…"
Her name slipped from his mouth as if the air itself had betrayed him, before his voice fractured, slowly:
"The last person who believed in me… was buried.
The last person who trusted me… died calling my name."
His voice broke at names he could barely utter, yet they lingered in the room like an echo:
"Isabel… Farlan… Petra… Erwin."
He turned his face away abruptly, as though looking at her might shatter him further:
"I saved this world hundreds of times, but none of those I lost beside me ever came back.
Don't ask me to believe… that I deserve to remain."
Sarah did not cry.
She did not step closer.
She simply spoke, as one who brings the truth near without forcing it:
"I am not asking for your heart, Levi.
I am asking for something simpler… that you stop burying yourself alive behind the mask of cruelty.
You made this necklace with your own hands—don't tell me that machines do such things."
He did not move.
But his hand clenched the edge of his shirt, as if trying to grasp what could not be held.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper:
"You make everything seem… possible."
And she answered, no longer afraid:
"Because you are still alive, Levi.
And you are still capable of choosing."
His features froze, as if she had thrown his truth at him without permission.
Yet he remained silent—
unable to deny it,
and not brave enough to confess.
Sarah did not wait for an answer.
She spoke with steady resolve:
"If you don't want me here, I will leave.
But don't push me away just because you don't have the courage to face the truth."
She turned slowly,
as if she were peeling her heart off the threshold of the room,
step by step.
At the door, she paused.
Her voice came out low—broken,
yet sharp as a blade:
"I will not apologize for feeling something for you, Levi.
But it hurts to know that, among everyone…
you were the only one who could not feel me."
She swallowed her tears the way one swallows a dagger,
and walked away.
She didn't slam the door.
She didn't wait for him to call her name.
She left behind a silence that felt like wreckage—
and a necklace on her chest,
still burning with his name.
Levi Returns to His Office — An Unspoken Fracture
The room was drowned in a warm darkness.
A single candle flame danced along the stone wall, casting a trembling shadow of a man who no longer resembled himself.
The map board hung firmly in place, unchanged, and the two guest chairs before the desk stood empty—
as if bearing witness to a conversation left unfinished, and an ending never spoken aloud.
Levi entered with slow steps.
He closed the door behind him without a sound, as though afraid that someone—anyone—might hear him break.
He didn't go straight to the desk.
He paused instead, staring into nothingness, into the hollow space Sarah's words had carved and left behind.
At last, he sat.
Elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped before his mouth,
his body leaned forward—
as if trying to stop something inside him from collapsing completely.
His shadow quivered on the wall while he remained still.
His eyes were half-closed, his gaze fixed not on the room,
but on something buried deep within himself.
A breath escaped him—soundless.
No tears. No sigh.
Just a small crack in his armor.
He rested his head against one hand,
his jaw clenched tight,
and a low voice slipped from his lips against his will—
a defeated confession:
"…She shouldn't have been hurt."
Silence returned.
But it was not the silence of a room—
it was the silence of a man who knows he is the cause,
and hates himself for knowing he cannot undo it.
He sat there,
alone.
Surrounded by a darkness that was not forced upon him—
but one he had chosen himself,
so he would never love,
and never be the reason someone else is lost again.
Flashback – "A Midnight Conversation with Hange"
That night, after her tears had finally quieted, Sarah remained awake in her room.
Moonlight slipped through the curtains, illuminating part of the floor—
while her heart stayed in shadow, heavy with words that had found no echo.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Then Hange entered—unusually quiet—carrying two cups of herbal tea.
Hange (with a gentle smile):
"I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight."
She sat beside her, handed her one of the cups, and stayed silent for a moment—
as if carefully gathering her words.
Sarah (in a low voice):
"Were you listening… to what happened between him and me?"
Hange:
"I didn't need to listen.
I knew this moment would come—sooner or later."
Sarah looked at her, eyes wide with confusion, as Hange continued, her voice warmer now:
"Levi has never been easy to understand.
But I've known him for ten years,
and I swear to you—I have never seen him this unsettled."
She paused, then added more seriously:
"He has faced death, lost friends, and watched parts of himself disappear…
but he didn't change the way he has since you entered his life.
Since you arrived, he speaks less,
watches you from a distance,
tenses whenever your name is mentioned,
and carves a necklace with his own hands—
as if placing his heart inside it."
After a moment of silence, Hange set her cup aside, about to say more—
but Sarah interrupted softly:
Sarah:
"Hange… how did you know the necklace was from him?
He never told me. Not that day. Not after."
Hange looked at her for a long moment, then smiled with that familiar mix of mischief and tenderness.
Hange:
"Because I saw the moment he made it."
Sarah's eyebrows lifted in shock.
Hange continued, her voice gentler:
"I walked into his room—like I always do—without knocking.
I thought he was buried in paperwork,
but I found him hunched over, staring at a small silver piece in his hands.
Delicate tools scattered around him.
And his fingers… they were bleeding."
Sarah (alarmed):
"He was bleeding?!"
Hange (nodding with a quiet sigh):
"Yes. He cut himself more than once carving the details.
But the strange thing?
He didn't complain. He didn't curse.
He didn't make a sound."
She let out a soft laugh.
"When he saw me, he froze in place.
For a moment, I honestly thought he might kill me.
He shouted, 'Get out, you lunatic!'
And before he could finish, I was already pulling the door shut, apologizing."
Sarah, holding the necklace between her fingers, felt her heart grow heavier…
and lighter at the same time.
Hange:
"He never spoke about it afterward.
But I saw something in his eyes that couldn't be hidden.
That necklace isn't just jewelry.
It's a piece of Levi himself."
She leaned closer and whispered:
"You're the only person he's ever given something like this to.
No one has entered his heart—or his pain—this way."
She fell silent for a moment, then said softly:
"So don't ask him why he didn't say anything.
Ask yourself instead:
What will I do with this silence?
Are you ready to understand it with your heart… rather than your ears?"
Sarah lowered her gaze. Hange continued:
"He doesn't know how to love, Sarah.
And because he doesn't know how—he's afraid.
But I know him well…
and if there is any woman capable of breaking through his walls,
it's you."
She smiled faintly and placed her hand over Sarah's.
"Don't give up on him. He needs time.
Nothing beautiful is picked before it ripens.
Be patient—because he is worth that patience."
And before she left, she whispered:
"True love doesn't always need confession.
Sometimes, it's enough to feel it—
even if it's never spoken."
She closed the door behind her,
leaving Sarah to close her eyes for the first time in days—
her heart still trembling,
but now with a soft hope,
gentle as Hange's voice.
Is Levi afraid of loving… or of losing again?