The capital at night was silent.
The streets of Mitras—heart of the Walls, seat of kings—lay shrouded in a dim, heavy calm.
Lanterns flickered weakly, casting shadows that stretched long and crooked across the cobblestones.
Zeke Yeager walked among them, hands in his pockets, eyes wandering over the quiet cityscape.
He exhaled softly. "So this is the capital of the world inside the Walls…"
Everything was as he'd expected—gilded on the surface, rotten beneath.
There was only one man within these walls who knew the full truth about Titans: the King.
Or rather… the two Kings.
The false King who sat on the throne, and the true King who hid beneath the city, pulling the strings.
Erwin Smith, brilliant as he was, had only managed to trace the trail of secrets up to the capital before the clues went cold. He knew there was power here, manipulation, conspiracy—but he didn't yet understand the dual monarchy that governed them all.
Zeke's mission, in this twisted second life, was to find the real King.
If only he could remember what name the man used.
The puppet-king still bore the name Fritz, but the true royal bloodline had long changed names and blended among the nobility—hidden, protected, untouchable. Even Historia, in her innocence, had only later reclaimed the Fritz name after ascending to the throne.
Zeke sighed. "What a terrible script for a rebirth…"
He'd thought to use himself as bait—an intelligent Titan appearing inside the Walls would surely draw out the real King's faction. Someone would come for him eventually.
If they tried to kidnap him… good. Then, perhaps, they could finally meet face to face.
But here he was, trapped again in the middle of the story, his foresight clouded.
He muttered to himself, "In a world where I know nothing, I can only move one step at a time."
"What is it? First time here?"
Erwin's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Yeah," Zeke said lightly. "First time."
In his previous life, he'd been to Paradis plenty—just never like this. Always as the enemy: attacking Shiganshina, leading the Beast Titan into battle, or later, as a prisoner under Levi's watchful glare.
That same glare was now fixed on him again. Some things, it seemed, fate refused to rewrite.
"So you truly don't know who came for you?" Erwin pressed, studying him.
"I don't," Zeke replied, tone patient but detached.
"No idea at all?"
"No."
Erwin sighed through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it. "Then what do we do? If the man we caught is an assassin, it won't matter how hard we interrogate him—we'll get nothing but silence."
Zeke looked at him sideways. "Got a cigarette?"
"…What?"
"Cigarettes."
Erwin blinked, then glanced toward Levi, who gave him a look of pure disbelief before reluctantly fishing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it for Zeke.
The smoke curled upward. Zeke smirked faintly.
Levi caught the look and instantly bristled. "What's with those eyes? You got a problem, monkey?"
Zeke chuckled. "Didn't expect someone like you to light a cigarette for anyone."
Levi's fists clenched. "You want me to stuff that cigarette down your throat?"
Before he could act, Erwin calmly placed a hand on Levi's shoulder, the universal sign for not now.
Levi scowled but stood down. After all, Zeke was still bruised, bandaged, and half-dead from the previous day's "conversation."
Hitting him again now would've felt like kicking a puppy—an ugly, smug, bearded puppy.
Levi jabbed a finger at him. "I'm lending you that cigarette. It's not free. You'd better pay me back—a whole pack."
Zeke exhaled a lazy stream of smoke. "With what money?"
"Then go earn some! Clean toilets, shovel horse crap, I don't care—buy me a damn pack, you overgrown flea!"
Zeke ignored him, lost in thought.
Erwin watched him closely through the haze. "According to my investigation into you and your father, both of you came from outside the Walls. So why would someone from inside come to take you away? We're supposed to be completely cut off from the world beyond."
Zeke said nothing.
Erwin continued, "And every experiment needs funding. I've seen Dr. Grisha Yeager's financial records.
They don't support anything on the scale of what you're describing. So who backed him? Who financed his work?"
He took a step closer, voice low. "And another thing—why would the people behind this go through so much trouble to save you… only to restrain you like an animal?"
He gestured to the heap of ropes on the floor—more binding than even the Survey Corps used.
"They wanted you alive, yet tied up so tight you could barely breathe. What kind of 'rescue' is that? And why did I get an assassination attempt the moment I returned from the palace? Why send Levi to warn me?"
Erwin's gaze sharpened, his tone like a blade. "When you finish that cigarette, Zeke, I expect the truth."
Minutes passed.
The cigarette burned down to a stub.
Zeke crushed it beneath his boot, exhaling the last wisp of smoke.
Erwin folded his arms. "Well? Have you decided how to answer me?"
Zeke looked up, eyes calm. "No. I was thinking about what to do next."
Erwin blinked. "…What?"
They were definitely on different wavelengths.
"I told you," Zeke said, voice quiet but steady. "I don't know who's behind your walls, or who funded my father. I only know one thing—he wants me dead."
Erwin frowned. "If he wanted you dead, why go through all that trouble to get you out of our custody alive? Those agents could've killed you in the infirmary."
Zeke smiled faintly. "Then maybe you are the ones being used. Maybe both sides are just waiting to see who makes the first mistake."
He took another long pause, then added almost wistfully, "You people really are despicable sometimes."
Erwin's expression didn't change. "Then what is it they're after?"
Zeke's voice dropped. "Something I have."
"What?"
Zeke met his eyes, and for a long moment, the air between them seemed to still. Then, with deliberate calm, he said, "My necklace. Return it to me."
Erwin blinked. "...That trinket? They're after that?"
When Zeke had first been captured, every personal belonging had been confiscated—including a small, weathered necklace that never left his neck.
Zeke nodded.
"What's its purpose?" Erwin asked.
Zeke gave a thin smile. "You haven't given me anything, and you're already asking for a trade? Knowledge isn't cheap, Commander."
Erwin's jaw tightened, but after a beat he nodded. "Fine. I'll return the necklace once we're back at headquarters."
"Good."
"And then?" Erwin pressed. "You said you were planning what to do next. Care to share?"
Zeke leaned back against the wall, his eyes no longer dull, but sharp, calculating.
"Simple," he said. "You give me the necklace—"
He paused, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
"—and then you hand me over."