"So, are you going to arrest me now, Captain Lillian?"
"Yes. Manufacturing and trafficking drugs," Lillian replied. "You weren't secretly hoping I'd let you go because you're pretty, were you?"
"Of course not," Carly laughed. "If it were another man, maybe I'd try. But you? Kemper warned me countless times—once you catch someone, it's over. The people at the tavern too—once they're drunk, cursing you out is practically a daily ritual."
"So I'm that popular," Lillian nodded. "Not bad. In that case, for the sake of Mr. Elliott's cake, I'll give you some time. Go home. Talk to your father. Come turn yourself in tomorrow."
Carly looked genuinely surprised. "Cake?"
"And Kemper wasn't the only one selling coderoin," Lillian continued. "Mr. Elliott won't be able to stay uninvolved either. You should remind him—if I find evidence, he'll know what I'll do."
He then took out the broken cigarette he had found at Kemper's place and handed it to her.
"Give this to your father too. If I'm not mistaken, it's his."
---
Carly didn't ask anything further. She pocketed the cigarette, waved at the two of them, and walked away.
Annie watched her disappear from sight. "You're not worried she'll run? Or… are you actually hoping she will?"
Lillian smiled but didn't answer. He glanced at the sky—the sun had already set, shadows spreading across the city within the walls. Night had fallen.
"A whole day gone," he said. "A rare day off, wasted chasing down a real-life 'Breaking Bad.'"
"What's 'Breaking Bad'?"
"Never mind. Let's go eat. I'm starving."
He started walking forward. Annie followed a step behind. After several minutes of silence, Lillian suddenly spoke again.
"By the way… tomorrow's patrol schedule is heavy. We're seriously short-handed. That date of yours—does it really matter that much? Can't you reschedule?"
"No."
"Must you go?"
He asked again. Annie looked at him. He was walking ahead of her, his expression hidden from view.
For some reason, the firm answer that should have come instantly hesitated. And in that moment of wavering, a man's figure surfaced in her mind, along with his voice:
{Annie… this is my fault. I won't ask for your forgiveness. I only have one thing to ask of you. Even if it means standing against the entire world… even if the whole world comes to hate you—your father will always stand by your side. So promise me… you'll come back.}
What must be done must be done, no matter what.
"…Yes," Annie said. "I have to go."
"…I see."
Lillian responded softly. He glanced at a small roadside shop and said, "Wait a moment," before heading inside. Shortly after, he returned with two cups of lemonade.
"I'm exhausted," he said, downing nearly half his cup in one go. He handed the other to Annie. "Hitch said you like lemon, right?"
"…Thank you."
Annie didn't refuse. She took a sip.
The taste was strange.
Expired?
The thought barely formed before a powerful sensation erupted inside her body. An overwhelming wave of fatigue and drowsiness surged through her, spreading instantly. Her body went limp so fast she couldn't even hold onto the cup—
Clatter.
The cup shattered on the ground.
Annie's face changed drastically. She looked up instinctively.
Lillian was already right in front of her.
His dark eyes were filled with complicated emotion.
Damn it!
In that instant, Annie realized there was something wrong with the glass of lemonade Lillian had given her. Before her consciousness fully faded, she slammed her right thumb hard against the ring on her index finger!
Splurt!
Blood sprayed outward.
The last thing Annie saw was Lillian reacting faster than she could—his palm closing tightly around the metal hook on the ring. Her heart sank. A blurred voice reached her ears, sounding like Lillian saying, "Just get some sleep." Then her remaining awareness vanished completely.
Her body went limp and collapsed. Lillian opened his arms and caught her, lifting her into his embrace. Looking down at her face—her delicate brows still tightly knit even in unconsciousness—he let out a quiet sigh. He pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover her face, then swiftly carried her away.
---
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
The door to Erwin's office opened. Levi stepped inside and glanced at him.
"You're still not sleeping? It's already past midnight. Tomorrow's the expedition beyond the Walls."
"…I can't quite fall asleep."
Erwin leaned back in his chair and rubbed his brow.
"Levi, do you think Lillian will show up tomorrow?"
"No idea."
"And if an intelligent Titan really appears… do you think our ambush will actually work?"
"No idea."
Levi looked at Erwin.
"Erwin, worrying about that won't help. Even if the ambush fails, Eren can still fight. And if he can't—then I'll take down that intelligent bastard myself."
"You're right," Erwin said calmly. "'Worry' really is the most useless emotion."
He continued, "If Lillian is a Titan and appears on tomorrow's battlefield, then even if we can't capture him, checking the Military Police attendance records afterward should give us our answer."
"…You're hoping he isn't, aren't you?" Levi asked.
"Yes," Erwin admitted without hesitation. "If he's not an intelligent Titan, then based on the note he sent me as a warning, he could undoubtedly become our ally. But if he is one—then even if he's at odds with the others, turning him would be extremely difficult. We know nothing about them."
"…After this expedition," Levi said after a moment, "no matter how it ends, we'll have to start planning an operation targeting Lillian, won't we?"
Erwin nodded slightly. He stood up, walked over, and placed a hand on Levi's shoulder.
"Humanity's counterattack," he said quietly, "has only just begun."
---
In the girls' dormitory, Ymir had just finished bathing. Towel-drying her hair, she walked in and saw a blonde girl sitting at her desk, wrapped in a cloak, writing something.
"Krista, what are you writing?" Ymir asked, leaning over.
Startled, Krista immediately covered the paper with her hand. Her small face looked uneasy.
"J-just writing…"
"Huh?" Seeing her reaction, Ymir smirked. "Wait—don't tell me you're writing a love letter?" she said with mock jealousy. "What, you don't like me anymore?"
"What?! No! It's not that!"
Krista shook her head frantically. After a moment, she hesitated, then whispered,
"I-it's… a will."
The smile vanished from Ymir's face.
"The commander said new recruits have a high mortality rate," Krista said softly. "So… even though it feels like it wouldn't matter much if I died, I'm still afraid of disappearing without saying goodbye."
"So I'm just writing some farewell words."
"Krista… what are you talking about?"
"Huh?"
Krista looked at Ymir in surprise. The usual casual expression on Ymir's face was completely gone.
"I don't ever want to hear you say something like 'it wouldn't matter if I died' again. Not even once."
"Ymir…"
"Finish writing it and put it away," Ymir said, climbing into her bed and pulling up the covers. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes.
"Or throw it away. Either's fine. As long as I'm here, you'll never need something like that."