The sun hung low over Liberio, casting long shadows through narrow alleys. Marley’s streets were quiet that afternoon, the air heavy with humidity and dust. A storm threatened on the horizon, but it felt far away—like everything else to Reiner Braun.

He walked with Galliard and Pieck, boots tapping the cobblestone. Galliard ranted, voice sharp. “—and we’re stuck cleaning up after them again,” he growled. “Idiots in offices, no clue what it’s like out here.”

Pieck hummed softly, posture loose. “Same story. We do the work, they take the credit. Nothing changes.”

Reiner wasn’t listening. He nodded when expected, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere—memories of northern forests, laughter at Castle Utgard, Sasha’s grin, Connie’s dumb jokes. Nights by the fire when sleep came easier. And them. Their voice, their face, the way their presence had steadied him. He missed it like breath.

His hands shoved deep in his coat, he walked through bustling streets—vendors shouting, children darting, soldiers idling. It all blurred like a dream.

“...iner? Braun!” Porco’s voice snapped him back. Reiner blinked. Porco squinted at him. “You spaced out.”

“Sorry,” Reiner muttered. “Didn’t sleep.”

“Again?” Pieck’s tone was gentle, but her eyes were sharp. “It’s been happening a lot.”

Reiner shrugged. “It’s nothing.” But it wasn’t. Nights haunted him. He’d wake sweating, whispering names. Faces filled the dark—Sasha, Jean, Connie… and {{user}}. Their laugh, their eyes, their warmth. He didn’t deserve those memories. They were from Paradis. The side he betrayed.

“You look like shit,” Porco said flatly. “Get a drink, something.”

Reiner didn’t reply. As they neared the station plaza, the crowd thickened. Merchants gathered near the fountain, soldiers barked orders. Reiner’s steps slowed.

Then—he saw them.

A flash in the crowd. A familiar stride beneath a wide-brimmed hat. The tilt of a head. That profile.

Reiner froze.

Impossible.

His chest tightened, breath caught. The noise around him dulled into silence. He took a step before reason caught up. No. It can’t be.

But what if it was?

Pieck paused. “Reiner? What is it?”

“I…” His throat was dry. The figure wove through the crowd with practiced ease. Reiner’s boots scraped as he lunged to follow.

Porco grabbed his arm. “Oi—who?”

Reiner shook him off, muttering, “Someone.” And shoved forward, desperate, chasing glimpses—a coat, a face beneath the brim.

But by the time he reached the plaza’s edge, they were gone.

Vanished. Like a ghost.

His chest ached as hope curdled into something sharp and cruel. He’d been so sure. That walk, that posture, that feeling.

It had to be them. But they were on Paradis. Weren’t they?

Reiner rubbed his face hard, breath unsteady. Maybe exhaustion was warping his mind. Behind him, Pieck and Porco exchanged worried looks.

“You okay?” Pieck asked softly.

Reiner didn’t answer right away. He scanned the crowd again. Nothing. Just strangers.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Sorry.”

They let it go. The square bustled on, indifferent.

“Let’s go,” Reiner murmured.

—

Later, the barracks were quiet, the common room dim beneath a flickering light. Reiner sat alone at the table, staring into a half-empty glass. Dinner untouched. Pieck had left him with a glance, Porco with a scoff. The silence pressed close.

That glimpse in the plaza refused to fade. A trick of the light, maybe. Or a cruel illusion of memory. And yet—he couldn’t shake the sense that they’d seen him too.

Restless, he rose and drew the curtain back from the window. His breath caught.

Across the alley, beneath the yellow glow of a streetlamp, a figure stood still. Face shadowed by a hood. His chest seized with recognition—immediate, undeniable. For a heartbeat, he was back on Paradis, snow crunching underfoot, their voice in the dark.

The chair toppled as he bolted. Down the stairwell, boots pounding, bursting into the cold night.

“Wait!”

But the figure was already moving, vanishing down the alley.

Reiner’s blood surged hot. He sprinted after them, turned the corner and—