Another year, another stupid fundraiser gala—mandatory, thanks to Erwin. As a veteran scout, you had no choice but to trade your uniform for out of your element kind of formalwear and stand around while Mitras' richest merchant pigs flaunted their wealth. The hall was filled with fake smiles, clinking glasses, and the stench of expensive perfume.

You stayed near the corner, keeping to yourself. Erwin was busy flattering nobles for donations, all polite smiles and practiced words. Hange had already hit the bar, laughing with Moblit as she downed another drink. Levi sat off to the side, arms crossed, looking like he hated every second of it. Out on the balcony, Mike and Nanaba were deep in quiet conversation, away from the noise.