"What do you mean?"
Roger was puzzled.
Anderson looked uneasy, glancing around instinctively.
"Exactly what it sounds like. I don't want to say too much, but you understand, don't you, Roger?"
"…"
Roger hesitated.
Of course, he understood what Anderson meant, but he couldn't believe it—he couldn't understand why Anderson would want to do this.
"Is it really necessary? For someone like me?" Roger's voice lowered on its own. "This is a serious violation. If the military hears—"
"Shh—"
Anderson stopped him, not letting him continue.
"Seems I was right. You're really considering my words. You're different from the other candidates."
"What do you mean? Are you… joking?"
"No. I'm serious." Anderson's expression hardened. "Don't be fooled by me following the orders of Marley's military every day. I only do it for myself. If I'm called 'selfish,' I won't deny it. Because I am selfish. I once abandoned a comrade without guilt."
As he spoke, the two sat on a bench together.
Roger listened carefully without interrupting.
He knew what Anderson referred to.
Years ago, it was said Anderson, as the Jaw Titan, fought alongside a previous inheritor of the Attack Titan. But when the battlefield turned, he abandoned him and retreated alone, leaving the Attack Titan missing.
Later, the traitor Eren Kruger betrayed Marley and used the Attack Titan's power to destroy harbor ships, revealing that the missing Titan power had not vanished.
"What really happened back then?" Roger asked.
"It's complicated," Anderson sighed, clearly unwilling to say more. "But I swear, I had an important reason for leaving him behind. You'll know when you inherit my memories."
"No, there's no chance." Roger waved his hand. "The handover is in two days. The military won't let a failure like me anywhere near."
"So you're giving up?"
Anderson sneered, making Roger bristle.
"I won't give up." Roger's gaze was sharp as a blade, fierce as a lion. "Even if I die, I'll kill Porco. He stole what was mine through foul play! He deserves to die!!"
"Oh, that look suits you." Anderson laughed. "Then come. At least make it to the site. I'll be waiting for you there."
He patted Roger's arm and stood, leaving.
Roger sat alone again, watching his back, pondering his words.
What did he mean?
Was he really planning to defy the military and secretly pass the Jaw Titan to me?
Roger couldn't figure it out. But one thing he decided—no matter what, he would be at the handover.
And…
Someone had to pay in blood!
Gripping his crutch, Roger stood and headed toward the hospital.
The internment zone hospital was poor and dilapidated, with crowded wards full of patients.
Roger pushed through the throng and entered the intensive care unit.
His grandmother, dying from terminal illness, lay with oxygen tubes in her nose and a feeding tube in her stomach.
Her body was frail, her face pale, but her eyes stayed fixed on the window.
"Grandma, you're awake?"
Roger set aside his crutch and sat by her.
She turned to him, holding his hand.
"It's you, A-Ro," she said happily. "Just now, one of your classmates came by with a gift. Look, on the table."
Roger turned and saw a basket of fruit.
"Who brought it?" he asked instinctively.
"He said he's like you, a warrior candidate," his grandmother said weakly through the oxygen, "His name is Reiner."
"Reiner…"
Roger nodded.
He knew him. The kid always looked a bit silly, the loudest in shouting pro-Marley slogans, but he always took care of his comrades. Even Roger couldn't dislike him.
But it wasn't because of his helpful nature. It was because he was always at the bottom of the class.
Just like that bastard Porco, he was one of the weakest candidates.
With six Titans to inherit, the extras like them would surely be left out.
Porco's grades fluctuated, but Reiner was locked into dead last, guaranteed to fail. That was why Roger liked him.
"I'll pay him back another day," Roger said.
His grandmother nodded. "That's best. We don't go out of our way to help others, but we never owe kindness either."
"A-Ro… no matter what happens, you must take care of yourself. Don't meddle in things. Don't let yourself suffer, understand?"
"I know. You've told me many times. It's carved into my heart."
Roger squeezed her hand.
"Good… good…"
Her eyelids grew heavy. She stopped talking, her grip loosening.
Fear pricked Roger, but when he checked her pulse and breath, she was still alive. Relieved, he left quietly.
She needed rest. Roger visited every morning to talk to her. Now that she slept, he had to let her be.
The next day, Roger came again on his crutch—only to see two Marleyan soldiers at the door.
"Who are you? Why are you here?"
Roger demanded, already sensing something wrong. He quickly tugged his armband up to his elbow and turned his back.
"Plague. The patient in this ward was suspected of carrying a highly contagious disease. She's already been dealt with. If you don't want to die, get out now!"
"Damn Eldian pigs, always stinking like shit! Disgusting!"
They pointed their rifles at Roger, signaling him to leave. One swung his rifle butt at him, but Roger dodged sideways, making the soldier stumble and smash out three teeth.
"You dare assault Marleyan soldiers?!"
"Courting death!!"
They raised their guns at his forehead, fingers tightening on the triggers.
At that moment, someone stepped in front of Roger, bowing and groveling.
"Sorry, sorry! The kid doesn't know better. Please forgive us, we'll leave right away!"
It was Anderson, humble and submissive. Roger noticed his armband was already faded.
"Senior Anderson…"
"Shut up! Come with me!"
Anderson yanked Roger by the sleeve and dragged him out of the hospital.
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