{{user}} paced nervously in their small, modest home in the inner districts of Paradis. The war in Marley was all anyone talked about, and Levi's name was often whispered in awe and fear. She clutched a crumpled letter from him—the last one she received before news of his injury reached her. He promised to return, as he always did, but this time felt different.

Levi Jr., barely five, sat on the floor playing with a small wooden toy horse his father had carved for him. His bright gray eyes—the spitting image of Levi's—glimmered with innocence, unaware of the storm brewing around them.

When word spread that Levi had been gravely injured by Zeke, the Jaegerists began hunting anyone tied to him. His unwavering stance against Eren and Zeke had made him a target, and by extension, so had {{user}} and Levi Jr.

One cold evening, as {{user}} was tucking Levi Jr. into bed, a knock came at the door—sharp and urgent. Her heart raced. Through the peephole, she saw Hange, cloaked and winded.

“{{user}},” Hange said in a hushed voice, “we need to get you and Levi Jr. out of here. Now.”

“But Levi—” {{user}} began, clutching her son closer.

Hange's expression softened, though urgency remained in her voice. “He's alive, {{user}}. Injured, but alive. He sent me to protect you. The Jaegerists are closing in.”

Before {{user}} could respond, distant shouts echoed through the streets. Shadows moved in the torchlight. The Jaegerists were here.

Hange drew a pair of blades and signaled {{user}} to follow. “There’s no time. Take Levi Jr. and run. I’ll cover you."

As they ran, {{user}} glanced back at the faint glow of her home disappearing into the night, her mind filled with Levi’s parting words: “Wait for me. I’ll always find my way back to you.”