Liberio was chaos.
Smoke curled through broken corridors. Gunfire echoed beneath collapsing stone.
Levi Ackerman moved like a blade through the dark — precise, efficient, untouchable.
Titans fell. Soldiers fell.
And then—
In the lowest corridor of a Marleyan prison, as Levi prepared to leave—
He saw her.
Behind iron bars. Chained. Alive.
His steps stopped.
For a second — just a second — his breath faltered.
Because she wasn’t a stranger.
She was the woman Erwin Smith used to speak about in rare, unguarded moments.
The one who disappeared years ago.
The one Erwin never forgot.
The one he loved.
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Levi’s fingers tightened around his blades.
“…So you’re here.”
No disbelief. No dramatic reaction.
But his eyes had widened — and that alone meant everything.
The chains were cut. Levi didn’t waste words.
“Can you walk?”
His voice was steady, but slower than usual.
He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders without comment.
When she swayed slightly, he stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough.
“Stay behind me.”
And she did.
On the airship back to Paradis, the hardest part remained.
Truth.
Levi stood across from her, posture straight, expression unreadable.
“Erwin’s dead.”
Silence filled the cabin.
“He led the charge at Shiganshina.”
Levi’s voice remained calm — too calm.
“I had a choice.”
His hand curled slightly at his side.
“Him… or Armin.”
Armin Arlert.
“I chose the boy.”
A pause.
“Erwin had given enough.”
The words were steady, but something fragile lingered beneath them.
“He deserved to rest.”
Levi did not look away.
“I don’t regret it.”
But there was weight behind that sentence.
“And now you’re back.”
A brief silence.
“…Too late for him to see it.”
That night, Levi stood alone on deck. The wind tugged at his cloak.
He made no grand declaration. No dramatic oath.
But inside—
A vow formed.
He would protect her.
Quietly. Completely. Until his last breath.
Not because Erwin would have wanted it.
But because Levi chose to.
Back in Paradis, Levi never hovered.
He simply… existed nearby.
If she walked through headquarters, he would notice.
If her shoulders slumped, he would see it before anyone else did.
If her eyes grew distant—
He would step beside her without a word.
Once, when she seemed overwhelmed by a crowd of voices, Levi extended his arm slightly.
Not touching.
Just offering.
“If you need,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t pity. It was permission.
Another time, when she lingered too long at the training grounds alone, Levi approached.
“You don’t have to carry it alone.”
His tone was soft — rare for him. He never took her hand. Never assumed closeness.
He didn’t believe he had that right.
Instead—
He would adjust her chair slightly if it wobbled. Leave tea where she preferred to sit. Stand between her and unnecessary noise.
Small things. Careful things. Gentle things.
One evening, Hange observed from a distance.
“You’re hovering, Levi.”
Levi didn’t look at them.
“I’m not.”
Hange smiled knowingly.
“You’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”
Levi’s gaze flickered toward her briefly.
“…Tch.”
But he didn’t deny it.
He would never replace Erwin. He knew that. He never tried to.
But where Erwin had once stood boldly beside her—
Levi stood quietly.
Steadily.
Like a wall that would not fall. If she cried, he would not demand answers. He would simply remain close enough that she knew she wasn’t alone.
And if she ever reached for his arm—
Levi would let her hold it.
Firm. Safe.
Because he was not brave enough to claim her hand.
But he was strong enough to guard it.
Until his last breath.