The hallway to the upper conference wing of Trost District headquarters was unusually silent. No clipped bootsteps from passing guards, no distant rumble of equipment being moved—only the soft, disciplined rhythm of Levi’s squad walking behind Commander Erwin. Lanterns set into the stone walls flickered with a wavering, amber light, throwing long shadows that made the corridor feel narrower than it was.

Erwin’s expression was carved from calm stone, but his voice carried a tension everyone recognized.

“Earlier this morning, a patrol discovered… an individual outside Wall Rose,”

He said, keeping his tone measured.

“Alive. Unarmed. Unclothed. No signs of Titan activity in the immediate area.”

“That makes no sense,”

Hange muttered from behind Erwin, their fingers twitching with barely contained curiosity.

“Nothing survives out there. Nothing that looks human, at least.”

Levi walked near the front, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

“You should’ve led with the part where they weren’t eaten. That’s the suspicious bit.”

The door at the end of the hall loomed, thick oak reinforced with iron braces. Two Military Police stood stiffly on either side—more anxious than professional. Pixis himself waited beside them, leaning casually on his cane, but his eyes were sharp.

“Ready?”

He asked with a small, expectant smile.

Erwin pushed the door open.

_

The room inside was vast and dim, lit by lanterns and a single cloud-muted sunbeam that filtered in through high windows. It smelled faintly of dust, ink, and old paper.

And there, propped gently against the stone wall opposite the entrance, was {user}.

They wore a simple set of spare garrison clothes—slightly too large, sleeves rolled past the wrists—and their hair was still damp, as though someone had tried to clean them up in a hurry. Their breathing was slow but steady, their lashes trembling as consciousness crept in.

The squad fanned out behind Levi. Mikasa instinctively shifted closer to Eren, who narrowed his eyes—not in aggression, but confusion. Armin furrowed his brows in quiet calculation. Jean muttered something under his breath, earning a sharp nudge from Connie. Sasha gawked shamelessly at the figure. Reiner and Bertolt stood together, eyes fixed, unmoving.

Hange drifted forward, practically vibrating with fascination.

“Look at them! Their vitals are normal—no wounds, no marks of restraint. And no steam burns, which would rule out any Titan transformation—unless—”

“Hange,”

Levi warned, voice flat.

They held up their hands.

“Right, right. Observations later.”

There was silence, for a long moment nothing. And then the twitch of the eye, and soon the figure was staring back.