Zeke set the teacup back on the table with a sharp thud! The guest flinched at the sudden sound and shrank into silence, afraid to meet his eyes.
Without another word, Zeke turned and took Eren's small hand, ready to leave the inn. His face was calm, but his eyes burned faintly with frustration.
Seeing this, Tom hurried after him, trying to smooth things over with a smile. "Don't be angry!
They just don't know anything, that's all. If they realized it was you who stopped those monster Titans last night, they'd never say those things!"
Zeke's lips curled into a bitter half-smile. "Even if they did know, would they believe it? People here trust the strength of their walls more than the people who actually protect them."
As if to echo his words, Farlan turned toward the group of laughing guests and spoke in a low, firm voice. "Watch your mouths. We were escorting that man last night! He's the one who stopped three of the mutants that tried to destroy the inner gate of Wall Maria before our reinforcements even arrived. If it weren't for him, the gate would've fallen, and your homes would've been rubble by now. You wouldn't be sitting here eating breakfast—you'd be running for your lives!"
For a second, silence. Then laughter exploded again.
"One man killed three Titans? What kind of joke is that?"
"Maybe he means three humans, haha!"
"Wasn't it one Titan that wiped out your whole regiment? Every time you go out, you come back with half your numbers missing like whipped dogs!"
Their mocking laughter filled the room again, loud and merciless.
"Too much!" Eren clenched his fists, his little body shaking with fury. He took a step toward them, ready to swing at the first man who spoke—but Tom caught him by the shoulder and shook his head gently.
"Don't."
Eren froze, confused. He looked up at the Survey Corps soldier he admired most and saw only calm patience where he expected outrage. His voice trembled. "Why? They're insulting you! Why aren't you angry?"
Tom's expression softened. He knelt and rested a hand on the boy's head. "If you're truly curious about the outside world, then grow up and join the Survey Corps. Heroes don't waste their passion fighting their own people."
Eren blinked, unsure he understood. "Our... own people?"
Tom gave a small, tired smile. "That's right. One day you'll know what I mean."
After comforting the boy, Tom turned to Zeke with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I wanted to treat you to a good meal, but instead our reputation's made you the target of every drunk in the city."
Zeke waved it off. "It's fine. They're not mocking me. But… why don't you ever talk back?"
Tom gave a short, humorless laugh. "We're used to it. Who can blame them? We always fail. And it's meaningless failure."
His voice dropped. "Every expedition costs half our lives. Every return brings fewer faces. We haven't brought back a single piece of useful information from outside the walls. Our sacrifices don't change a thing."
Zeke listened quietly. A hundred years of blood and still no progress. He couldn't tell whether to pity or respect them. "I never thought your Corps had such a bad reputation back in the early days."
Tom blinked, confused by the phrasing, then smiled hopefully. "So you think one day we'll change that, huh? Maybe our name will shine again. If you joined us—helped us build weapons against the Titans—it could happen even faster!"
"...?" Zeke froze. His spine stiffened, and a chill ran down his back. Did he just—ask me to join?
Tom's hopeful face loomed in front of him.
"What's wrong? Do you... look down on the Survey Corps too?"
Zeke waved his hands frantically. "No, no, it's not that—" He grimaced, one hand instinctively covering the back of his neck as if imagining a blade there. The thought alone made his skin crawl.
He had misjudged them. He'd thought their kindness came from simple gratitude—not from a secret plan to rope him into their suicidal ranks!
Images flashed uninvited through his mind:
himself wearing the Survey Corps uniform, right fist to his chest, shouting with a zealous grin,
"Devote your hearts to humanity!"
He shuddered. No. Absolutely not. I can't stand it. I won't stand it.
"Sorry—I, uh, just remembered something!" Zeke grabbed Eren's hand and made for the door before anyone could stop him.
Tom called after him, confused. "Zeke?"
But Zeke didn't answer. He only muttered under his breath, "Humanity isn't worth that much devotion anyway."
Eren stumbled to keep up with his longer stride, glancing back at the laughing patrons inside. The laughter sounded uglier now—snorting, wheezing, human yet somehow animal. The way they smacked their lips, the way their eyes narrowed with small-minded glee—Eren couldn't help but think they looked like pigs in clothing.
Pigs in a pen, too stupid to know they're trapped.
Tom's words echoed faintly in his head. 'Our own people.'
Eren frowned. His small hand tightened around Zeke's. Are they really the same as us?
The question sank like a stone in his chest. These people were alive, human, breathing—but something felt different. They were content behind the walls, satisfied with captivity.
They're not the same.
As the morning sun spilled over the rooftops of the safe little town, Zeke and Eren stepped into the light—one bitterly smiling at the absurdity of it all, the other silently realizing, for the first time, that the world wasn't divided simply between humans and Titans.
There was something else that separated them—something deeper than walls, stronger than fear.
The will to be free.