Though the King of Marley had departed, the attendants in the chamber had not. Among them stood a female official near the bedside, pen and paper in hand, her eyes fixed coldly on Zeke and Princess Anna.
Zeke froze.
Surely not?
Did they truly mean to record this… on site?
In an instant, he understood. The King of Marley would not permit him to leave without ensuring he left behind his "seed." Proof of loyalty, in this twisted game, depended on how diligently he "performed" over the next seven days. One attempt would never be enough—pregnancy could not be guaranteed so easily.
There was no free reward in the world. To gain something, something else must be lost.
This time, what Zeke sacrificed was his dream.
In his previous life, he had pursued euthanasia—an end to Eldian suffering through the erasure of their bloodline.
To inherit the Founding Titan and eliminate the possibility of Eldians having children had been his lifelong mission. Yet here, reborn, the very first demand placed upon him was to produce a child.
Ironic. Cruel.
But his obsession with that cause had dulled after tasting failure once already. Now, what held him steady was his father's final plea:
"Zeke, you must stop Eren."
To stop Eren, he needed to reach Paradis Island, no matter the cost. Even if it meant discarding the purpose of his former life.
He turned toward Princess Anna. She looked small, fragile, but resigned. He assumed she was prepared—yet the moment he approached, her eyes flared wide, and she screamed as if awakening from a nightmare.
With startling speed, she pulled a dagger from her sleeve and slashed toward him.
"Don't come closer!" she shrieked.
Zeke halted, stunned.
"Don't touch me, you devil! Don't you dare lay a finger on me!" Her hand shook, but the blade gleamed sharp in the candlelight.
Zeke stayed still. Her resistance seemed almost absurd—she had been placed here by her king, stripped of the right to refuse. What good could defiance do her?
The official with the pen spoke at last, her tone cold as steel
"Princess Anna. Think carefully about your wet nurse."
The words broke her. The dagger slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She crumpled, sobbing, clutching her face as her whole body shook.
So they hold leverage over her too, Zeke thought bitterly. He bent, retrieved the dagger, slid it gently back into its sheath, and placed it near her trembling hands. She did not respond.
He lingered, holding it out until at last she whispered, muffled through her palms: "Send them out…"
Zeke glanced at the recorder.
Her expression was unmoved. "I cannot. The king's orders are clear. Captain Zeke, proceed."
The princess flinched.
Zeke sighed, then straightened, affecting a casual scorn. "You old woman—you wouldn't understand the private joys of a bedchamber. A forced melon is not sweet. What happiness is there in forcing such things?"
The recorder's lips tightened but she said nothing.
Anna's sobs gradually quieted. At last, she lowered her hands and, with hollow eyes, began undressing herself. The light in her gaze was gone, as though her spirit had slipped away.
Zeke's chest ached. He wanted, more than anything, to help her cover herself again. But he couldn't. If he wished to set foot on Paradis, this was the path laid before him.
Still, his pity for her deepened. What dignity could survive such humiliation? Forced to surrender her body, forced to endure it under the eyes of strangers—what could be crueler?
He slipped the dagger into her hand, leaned close so only she could hear, and whispered
"Princess Anna, I know to you, we Eldians are demons—beasts less than human. But look closely now. Who is the true beast? Me, the so-called animal before you, or those who force you to bear a beast's child?"
Anna froze, her eyes searching his.
Then, suddenly, she laughed. A broken, bitter laugh that rang with despair.
"They're all beasts! Every last one of them! Hahaha!"
She threw herself into his arms, clutching him as though drowning. Tears streaked her face as her lips pressed against him—kisses mingled with bites, desperation mixing with madness. At that moment, she abandoned all pretense of being human.
And in that frenzy, Zeke's thoughts drifted. He remembered Eren.
The rumbling, when Eren had taken Ymir's power and reshaped himself into that grotesque, insect-like Titan. The endless march of Colossal Titans across the earth, crushing humanity beneath their feet.
Eren had grown silent then, almost alien. He no longer reached out even to his closest friends. Yet amid that devastation, perhaps from boredom, he had spoken to Zeke.
For the first time, as they watched the world collapse, Eren had spoken to him like a brother.
"Brother… Do you know the saddest thing about us Eldians?
It's that we still call ourselves human—yet the rest of the world never has."
Those words echoed in Zeke's mind now, cruel as chains.
One sentence from his brother, and in this life, Zeke would find himself laboring in vain once more.