The morning was unusually bright,
the sky empty of any threat—
if only for a while.
Sarah sat in the courtyard of the headquarters, a cup of tea warming her hands as she studied the ancient stones beneath her feet, as if trying to memorize the place by heart.
A light laugh broke her thoughts.
As always, Sasha appeared first—dragging Connie behind her—carrying a basket that smelled of freshly baked bread.
Sasha (grinning):
"Have you tried our bread yet? Because if you haven't, that's basically treason."
Sarah (with a faint smile):
"I think I'm already accused of treason."
Connie laughed loudly as he dropped down beside her.
Connie:
"At least you're honest! But… honestly, you're a lot less terrifying than you were on your first day."
Sasha:
"She was just hungry! People are always scary when they're hungry."
Sarah glanced at her, amused.
Sarah:
"You know… you remind me of my sister. Layla used to say strange things and laugh from the heart—just like you."
A brief silence followed.
But it wasn't heavy.
It was warm—like belonging, offered without conditions.
Jean arrived then, biting into an apple as he watched them.
Jean:
"Oh, look at that. Sarah speaks now? I thought you were some kind of royal silence machine."
Sarah (raising an eyebrow):
"Sorry I didn't put on a performance the moment I arrived."
Jean:
"It's fine. You've got presence now. Just don't forget—Connie thought you were a disguised assassin."
Connie (defensive):
"Me? I just said she was too pretty to be a normal spy. Spies in stories are always uglier."
They all laughed—not loudly, but honestly.
At that moment, Armin and Mikasa approached quietly.
Armin (gently curious):
"I was wondering… what shocked you most when you came here?"
Sarah paused, then answered softly.
Sarah:
"You're not monsters. Not ignorant creatures like we were told. You're human… and after everything I lived through, that was the hardest thing to believe."
Mikasa exchanged a brief glance with Armin.
And then—without realizing it—Sarah turned slightly and noticed Eren standing at a distance, watching.
Silent as ever.
But his eyes weren't empty this time.
They moved between faces… lingering on Sarah.
In the shadows behind one of the pillars stood Levi.
Arms crossed. Chest still.
He didn't speak. He didn't approach.
But his eyes—always watching—
for the first time didn't see a spy…
but something he couldn't yet name.
🌗 The Evening That Began to Break Barriers
There was no celebration to announce acceptance.
No words spoken to erase doubt.
But they all sat at the same table.
And that alone was enough.
It was Sarah's first time joining them—officially.
No one introduced her.
She didn't introduce herself.
Yet she found her place among the wooden chairs as if it had been saved for her long ago.
Dim light.
The smell of soup.
The soft clink of plates.
Everything seemed ordinary on the surface—
but underneath, the night was different.
Jean cracked a joke that made Connie laugh until he choked.
Sasha nearly cried defending a piece of meat she claimed as hers.
Mikasa—barely smiling—pushed an extra plate toward Sarah.
The ice was melting.
Not with noise—
but with small gestures.
In the corner sat Levi, silent as usual.
Yet his eyes were not empty.
He watched.
Counted how often Sarah laughed.
Noted how her usual caution seemed to fade.
The conversation drifted around food, training, and Jean and Connie's usual nonsense.
But Levi wasn't listening.
His gaze, without meaning to, returned to the small necklace resting against Sarah's chest.
He had seen it before—when Hange brought her belongings from the ship.
Simple.
Heart-shaped.
Unassuming.
Yet its presence lodged itself in his mind like an unhealed scar.
At first, he hadn't cared.
A woman carrying a keepsake—nothing unusual.
But she hadn't forgotten it.
Hadn't removed it.
Hadn't hidden it.
That unsettled him.
How could a woman who lived through war, captivity, betrayal, and flight still carry something like that?
A necklace that didn't belong to this kind of life—like a fragment of a life time never allowed her to live.
That small object felt heavier than everything Sarah had said about her sister, Marley, missions, and loyalty.
Because it wasn't necessary.
And that was exactly why it felt more honest than all her words.
Not camouflage.
Not part of a plan.
Just quiet humanity—
a reminder that inside every fighter lives someone holding onto something they'll never explain.
Levi exhaled slowly and looked away, as if his eyes had just committed an unforgivable act of contemplation.
🌙 Under the Night Sky
Night spread over the headquarters, the sky scattered with stars as if someone had thrown them carelessly across the darkness.
Sarah stepped outside quietly, steam rising from her tea.
A cigarette glowed between her fingers—the first in days.
She wasn't smoking to rebel.
She was silencing something that refused to quiet down.
She stood alone beneath the sky and wondered:
Do people like us deserve to dream… after crawling out from under the rubble?
She inhaled deeply, exhaled smoke with a soft sigh—pushing away something nameless:
fear, longing, or the heavy realization that surviving doesn't always mean living.
🌑 The Cup
In the kitchen, Levi searched with growing irritation.
His cup was gone.
Not just a habit.
The last thing he had left of his mother.
Then he noticed a small red glow outside the window.
A cigarette.
He stopped.
Lifted his head slowly.
Left the kitchen without knowing why.
Sarah felt him before she saw him.
He stood two steps behind her.
Levi (cold, masking something else):
"You're using a cup that isn't yours."
She glanced at the cup, then at him, smiling lightly.
Sarah:
"I thought it was just a cup. I didn't know it belonged to someone."
She reached to hand it back.
Their fingers brushed.
Ordinary—
yet not.
He took it, his voice unexpectedly calm.
Levi:
"And smoking? Do you think this is Marley? We have enough clean air without you poisoning it."
She laughed—soft, fearless.
Sarah:
"Bad habit, I admit.
But I've seen people survive far worse.
Sometimes… a cigarette silences a kind of quiet that clean air never could."
He stiffened.
Levi (low, sharp):
"You brought everything here that doesn't belong.
Don't waste your time convincing us otherwise."
She crushed the cigarette beneath her heel—not in regret, but resolve.
Sarah:
"Belonging isn't decided by rules.
Time decides that.
Everyone has their way of staying human."
Silence.
Then, as he turned away—
Levi (quiet, almost unwilling):
"This isn't your home."
A pause.
"…And summer nights here are cold. Don't let yourself get sick."
She said nothing.
But she heard what lay beneath the words.
The wall between them hadn't fallen—
but it had cracked.
❓ Questions for the Reader
Can the first spark between them ignite something real—or will it turn to ash before it begins?
Is Sarah playing with Levi's heart… or is his heart betraying him against his will?
What does Levi's final look mean to you—curiosity, jealousy, or something he refuses to name?
A black horse.
A cry unlike any other—
carrying the echo of an old love… and a broken promise.
Sarah stands between freedom's breath and the blade's edge.
Was it a reckless moment?
Or did something in the forest change everything?
Levi no longer finds refuge in silence.
And something about Sarah feels like danger—
yet he cannot walk away.
A chapter is coming that will set hearts on fire.
Are you ready for the fall of masks?
For a story where neither the heroine nor the hero is what you expect?
Tell me—
are you with Sarah…
or against her?