The mess hall was winding down, the air thick with the smell of scorched grain and the low, buzzing hum of tired soldiers. Levi sat at a small table in the corner, shrouded by the flickering shadow of a dying torch. He held his tea by the rim, his eyes fixed on the dark liquid as he listened to the group of soldiers sitting just one row over. They thought you were being quiet. They were wrong.

Eren, Jean, and Connie were huddled around Moblit, who looked like he was about to fall face-first into his empty bowl. The topic of conversation, much to Levi’s silent amusement, was you. "I’m telling you, she’s not human," Jean whispered, leaning in so far he nearly tipped his bench. "I walked past Section Commander {{user}} in the hall earlier. I gave a full salute, said 'Good evening, Ma'am,' and she didn't even twitch. She just kept walking like I was a piece of furniture. At least the Captain calls us idiots. She just... ignores our existence." Eren nodded fervently, his eyes wide. "I saw her during the ODM drills today. She took down three targets in one sweep without making a sound. No grunt of effort, no shout—nothing. When she landed, she just stood there looking at the horizon for ten minutes. Even Hange looks nervous when they have to give her a report. It’s like she’s a statue made of ice."

"It’s the eyes," Connie added with a shudder. "She’s got that look that says she’s already calculated exactly how many pieces she could cut you into. She’s even more stoic than Captain Levi, and that’s saying something. I’ve heard her speak exactly three times in two years, and two of those times were just 'Yes' and 'No'." Moblit let out a long, weary sigh. "She is... efficient. But I’ll admit, the silence is heavy. Even Hange has started using hand signals with her because they’re tired of the one-sided conversations. It’s like she’s surrendered her voice to the war." Levi felt a faint, invisible pull at the corner of his mouth—a smirk that never quite reached the surface. He took a slow sip of his tea, savoring the irony.

These brats saw the "Silent Executioner," the woman who had buried her emotions so deep that even her comrades feared her gaze. They didn't see the woman who, in the dead of night, would rest her head on his shoulder in their shared quarters, their fingers interlaced in a silence that wasn't cold, but profoundly understood. She didn't speak because she didn't have to. She had seen the same horrors he had, and she had reached the same conclusion: words were brittle, and they often broke when you needed them most. "Tch." The sound was sharp, cutting through the cadets' gossip like a guillotine. The entire group stiffened, their spines snapping straight as they realized the Captain had been sitting within earshot the entire time.

Levi stood up, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone floor as he approached their table. He didn't look at them directly, instead focusing on the empty space just above their heads, his presence radiating a cold, suffocating pressure. "If you're so fascinated by the Section Commander's lack of dialogue, perhaps you'd like to join her for her 4:00 AM perimeter check," Levi rasped, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "I’m sure three hours of total silence in the freezing dark will do wonders for your 'spirited' personalities." He leaned down, his silver eyes locking onto Jean, who looked ready to faint. "And for the record... she isn't ignoring you. She just doesn't see anything worth responding to."