"The higher-ups think you've performed remarkably well, and there's been some murmuring among the public," Keith said.
"Many of the families of the 250,000 who died outside the Wall remain inside. To prevent unrest, they're considering appointing someone to represent them."
Lillian's heart skipped a beat.
Keith's sharp eyes seemed to pierce right through the boy. "You're clever. You were the first to notice the issue with Eren's belt. Good work. So I recommended you to the higher-ups."
"You mean… they want me as a 'spokesperson'?"
"That's right," Keith nodded, a mixture of admiration and doubt in his gaze. "You would represent those 250,000 who died beyond the Wall. They want you to live well, so the relatives of the deceased see it and feel reassured."
"Why me? Over seventy others have returned, haven't they?"
"Heh, I'll just say your luck is exceptional," Keith said, laughing twice. "And you're young, full of energy, good-looking, and, most importantly, fully intact—no missing limbs. Among the seventy or so who came back, very few are as complete as you."
Lillian understood.
He realized that the tremendous sacrifice of 250,000 people couldn't just be ignored. The families, even if they didn't cause trouble, carried lingering resentment. The government foresaw this and wanted a survivor to visibly live a happy life, showing their stance and offering reassurance.
He inwardly sneered. Luck and intact limbs were trivial. The real reason was that he was young—easier to manipulate and brainwash.
"Yes, so after your three years of training, the higher-ups want you to join the Military Police," Keith concluded.
"Is that so."
Lillian studied Keith. The former Survey Corps commander—had he now become a tool of the establishment?
"But," Keith added, "you must still achieve qualified results. I don't know how long your arm will take to heal, but you'll need to work double or triple the time to catch up. You must be able to command respect."
He looked down at the ground as he spoke, almost as if talking to himself, clearly struggling.
"Understood."
Lillian had no right to refuse.
Still… a ripple of something began to stir within him. Something was brewing in the depths of his mind.
Watching Lillian leave, Keith couldn't shake the feeling that there was more hidden in the boy's slender frame.
"Strange kid…" he muttered. He recalled how quickly Lillian had understood the 'spokesperson' hint. At thirteen, the boy was perhaps a little too clever.
He smiled faintly, a trace of self-mockery in his expression.
"Really," he murmured, teasing himself, "I've become nothing more than a mouthpiece for the higher-ups… haha."
---
Whish—!
Whish—!
Steam from the omni-directional mobility gear propelled everyone through the forest, searching for mock Titans and practicing combat.
Shing—!
Lillian's blade struck a wooden Titan's nape, slicing about two-thirds through—just a few centimeters shallower than the cut Mikasa had left.
"Phew…"
He landed on a tree branch to rest briefly. His stamina was easily the best among everyone. Two hours into testing, he was only now taking a short break, while others had already rested four or five times.
Even a third of Titan physiology was no joke. It granted Lillian enormous strength and endurance, allowing him to maintain peak performance far longer than others.
Regarding scoring, his performance merited excellence, but top ten was out of reach. In combat talent, he lagged behind Mikasa, Annie, and Sasha; in effort, he fell short of Eren, Jean, and Connie. His current score was reasonable.
The evaluations were nearing the end—the third year had arrived, and the 104th training corps would soon graduate.
"Hey shorty, are you slacking off?"
Ymir's voice cut through the air as she swooped down beside Lillian.
Three years had passed—she had grown slightly taller, about 1.73 meters. Lillian had barely reached 1.70 meters after growing and eating well, just enough to shake off the 'shorty' nickname.
Of course, Ymir didn't notice this. She grinned mischievously at Lillian. "If you keep chatting here, you'll never make the top ten."
"Neither would you," Lillian replied. "You're talking to me, so you won't make the top ten either."
Lillian knew that Ymir could easily place in the top ten. But she deliberately held back to allow Krista a chance.
"Hahaha, that's because I like chatting with you. Feeling special?" Ymir said, half-serious, half-teasing, and pointed at his eyes. "By the way… every time you look at me, it feels… weird."