❖ A Meeting at the Tybur Estate
The carriage moved slowly beneath a sky brushed with faint stars, as though even the heavens feared shining too brightly. The wind whispered through the trees. Inside the vehicle, Sarah held the steering wheel with steady hands…
But her heart?
It was racing.
She couldn't forget his touch moments earlier.
The way his hand rose suddenly, his finger brushing the red from her lips with quiet defiance—then that low, dangerous whisper:
"There's no need to dress up for Willy Tybur… or I swear I'll come myself and kill him."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
Her heart had pounded violently then—
and it refused to calm now.
—
At the palace gates, the car came to a halt under the watchful rhythm of guards' footsteps. They recognized her, yet their silence carried more than mere surprise.
First Guard (quietly):
"Miss Sarah? At this hour? Is Mr. Tybur… expecting you?"
Sarah stepped out, her eyes sharp as a blade.
"No. But he will listen to me immediately. Tell him this… cannot wait."
—
❖ Willy Tybur's Office
The walls were adorned with golden carvings, breathing the scent of old books and silent authority. Willy sat behind his dark walnut desk, buried beneath endless reports. When the guard entered and spoke her name, he did not react—save for the slightest lift of an eyebrow.
Willy (to himself, a faint smile touching his lips):
"Sarah? The night grows more interesting."
When she entered the room, his eyes did not leave her.
She was different from the last time.
Steady. Composed.
And yet… in her eyes lingered something like rain before it falls.
Willy rose slowly, the movement deliberate—like placing a piece on a chessboard.
Willy (his voice smooth as velvet, yet charged with charisma):
"What a captivating surprise… Have you come to reconsider your decisions? Or has your heart finally begun to understand what I told you from the beginning?"
Sarah did not sit.
"I came for something greater than my heart… and greater than my decisions."
Willy smiled faintly and lowered himself back into his chair, fingers interlaced upon the desk.
"Those words intrigue me more than all the sessions of parliament combined. Please—have a seat."
She ignored the chair.
"I won't speak until Lara joins us. This concerns her as much as it concerns us."
A brief silence.
Then a long exhale left his chest as he adjusted the collar of his jacket—an old habit, concealing either boredom or strategy.
"Lara is asleep… but for your eyes, I will wake her."
He turned to a servant.
"Bring tea… and sweets. And summon Miss Lara."
—
❖ Lara Appears
The door opened with perfect quiet—like someone who knew how to disturb silence without wounding it.
Lara entered with gentle steps, carrying her calm presence and that unmistakable smile. Despite the tension saturating the room, she alone seemed to bring warmth with her.
Lara (stepping forward to embrace Sarah softly):
"Dear Sarah… I wish we had met at a less troubled hour."
Sarah returned the embrace with a faint smile.
"Your presence makes even troubled hours gentler, Lara."
Lara seated herself beside her brother, her quiet composure intact. She looked at Sarah with clear eyes that held only one question.
"Tell me… what brings you here at this hour?"
—
❖ The Serious Conversation Begins
Sarah remained standing, hands clasped before her as though weighing her words in her heart before releasing them.
She looked at Willy steadily.
"I know you're wondering why I returned to Marley. And I know you're waiting for answers… especially about those who came with me."
Willy did not respond. He merely tilted his head slightly, studying her tone, her intent.
She continued, calm but unmistakably clear:
"The people staying in the palace… are from Paradis. Yes. They are the ones you have long called devils."
In that instant, something shifted in Willy's expression—as though an old wound had been reopened. He rose abruptly and circled his desk slowly, as if even his anger required arrangement.
"Devils of Paradis? You brought them into the heart of our land? Have you lost your sense of history… or your loyalty?"
Sarah's gaze did not waver.
"I have lost nothing, Willy. But I have found something… the truth. And you must hear it before you try to shoot it down."
—
But he did not grant her the space to finish.
He stepped closer, his eyes burning with disbelief and agitation.
"They possess the Founding Titan, the Attack Titan, the Colossal… Do you understand what that means? You—more than anyone—understand."
Then, without thinking, he gripped her shoulders, as though he could shake the reality out of her.
"Do you realize I could summon the army right now? With one word, I could end this madness… and stop everything."
❖ Lara Intervenes
Before the next word could leave his mouth, Lara's voice rose—soft, yet carrying something unbreakable.
Lara:
"That's enough, Willy."
He turned toward her, surprise flickering in his eyes—as if he had momentarily forgotten she was there.
Lara (steadily):
"If Sarah stands here tonight without protection, without conditions… that alone proves her intention. If she meant deception, she would not have come like this."
Willy did not answer at once. His gaze shifted between Sarah and his sister, as though a thread of trust stretched between them—one he did not know when or how it had been severed.
Willy (quietly, as if addressing his own memory):
"You trust them? Do you know what they did to us? To what we were?"
Sarah (soft, yet unwavering):
"And I know what we did as well. We both drowned in hatred… and I fear the next tide will spare no one."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Yet something shifted—not only in Willy's expression, but in his voice, in the way he stood, in the look in his eyes that no longer measured her words… but the courage behind them.
Sarah (calm, resolute):
"Yes, I know who they are. I did not fight beside them, nor did I witness their losses with my own eyes… but I saw what the war left behind in their gaze. I saw a mother turned into a titan, silent tears swallowed by fear and grief. I heard of friends buried beneath rubble, of dreams crushed under ruin, of hearts still bleeding where no one can see."
She paused, then added more firmly:
"They may not be heroes… but they are not the devils we were taught to believe. They are human. Just like us."
She stepped forward, as if removing the final wall between doubt and trust, and met Willy's eyes without flinching.
Sarah:
"Willy… I didn't come to make you sympathetic. I came to offer you an opportunity. The ones you call devils trusted me and asked if I knew a man capable of making peace without appearing weak. I chose you."
Willy did not respond immediately. He studied her in silence, each word echoing against something old within him. His voice, when it came, was low—cool.
Willy:
"And you ask me to open my palace to them? To host them before officers, nobles, families who lost sons in this war?"
Sarah (steadfast):
"I ask you to make your palace a beginning, not a scandal. This meeting will not be secret—it will be a formal reception, carefully orchestrated. Invite those weary of war, the officers who know victory by the sword is no longer possible, representatives of nations that no longer trust Marley."
She held his gaze.
"Turn your palace into a hall of dialogue, not a battlefield. With this reception, you prove you still hold the threads of the game. That you are the bridge between two shores. No one else can do this without being accused of treason."
Silence thickened again.
Willy paced slowly behind his desk, eyes lowered, negotiating within himself.
At last, he lifted his head. A faint smile touched his lips—not empty of meaning.
Willy:
"A reception, then? Very well. I will give them a stage… and I will take the seat of the observer."
He stepped closer. His voice dropped, but his eyes sharpened.
"But remember—this reception is not merely an invitation to peace. It is a test. And I will be there… to watch how their 'leader' behaves when surrounded by his enemies."
He leaned closer still, his whisper like a blade.
"And I only hope… you have not already handed him your heart."
Sarah stilled for a moment. The question itself did not shock her—his tone did.
Yet she quickly regained her composure. She turned toward him, posture firm, voice cool.
"My heart is not on the guest list, Willy. Nor will I offer it as a diplomatic gesture. Now let us return to what truly matters: saving what remains of this world."
Sarah left the Tybur palace with steady steps, as if carrying a prophecy in her chest that could not be denied. Behind her, the heavy doors closed with a sound that echoed like the beginning of an unwritten fate.
The night was dense. The stars watched the silent city.
Inside, Willy Tybur stood by the tall window, shoulders taut, one hand slightly raised—as though he might call her back.
But he did not.
His eyes followed her retreating figure, torn between calculation and desire, between political strategy and a thread far more personal than he wished to admit.
Lara approached quietly, standing beside him. Concern shimmered softly in her eyes.
Lara (low):
"Sarah is brave… but she plays with fire. And if the timing fails, everyone will burn."
Willy (whispering, without looking away):
"That is why I will not allow her to drift away from me… not politically… and not personally."
When Sarah returned to the palace, her features revealed nothing of what had transpired within the walls of House Tybur. There was no victory in her face, no defeat—only a quiet, enigmatic calm, like the wind that rises just before a storm.
She opened the door herself and stepped into the sitting room, where everyone had gathered around the fireplace. The flames had dimmed slightly, as though even the fire awaited what her lips would bring.
Armin rose first as Sarah walked forward with measured steps.
Armin (anxiously):
"Was it agreed?"
Sarah (removing her glove, voice steady):
"Yes. He agreed."
Silence.
Sarah (looking at them all):
"But not to a meeting… to a party."
A tense stillness settled over the room. They had expected something—but her tone carried something unfamiliar.
Mikasa (coolly):
"That means he intends to parade us before Marley's elite."
Sarah:
"Exactly. He wants them to see us as human… or as beasts in velvet cages. Each will interpret the image as they wish."
Jean (with a crooked smile):
"Should we serve them wine… or show them that devils can dance too?"
Connie:
"Or perhaps prove that even titans can wear formal suits."
A faint laugh slipped through the tension, but Hange cut in, a mischievous spark glinting in her eyes.
Hange:
"Either way, Tybur wouldn't have agreed so easily if he didn't feel something toward you, Sarah. Maybe he enjoys difficult bets… or mysterious women?"
All eyes flicked toward the corner, where Levi sat motionless. He did not speak. He barely moved. Only his eyes watched Sarah with a quiet, smoldering intensity.
Levi (without looking up):
"Stop the nonsense, Hange."
Hange (laughing):
"Nonsense? I'm merely pointing out what none of you dare say. Levi, tell me honestly—are you planning to kill Tybur before the party… or after?"
Levi (coldly):
"If you keep talking, I'll tie you up with that scarf and hang you from the balcony."
Jean and Connie stifled their laughter. Mikasa glanced at Sarah, measuring her reaction. But Sarah stood calmly, placing her glove on the table, gazing toward the fire as though listening to a melody no one else could hear.
Sarah (soft but clear):
"This party will be a turning point… or a collapse. That's why I don't want hints, teasing, or side conflicts. Starting tomorrow, each of you will receive precise instructions—from what you wear… to how you smile."
She lifted her eyes to meet them all.
Sarah:
"We will be neither devils nor victims. We will be the choice they fear most… peace."
A heavy silence followed.
At last, she said:
"Good night."
She left the room, and behind her the wind stirred the fireplace flames, as though preparing them all for a night that would not be easily forgotten.