"Then, for your brother's sake, can you tell us more about your father?" Erwin's tone softened, probing for anything useful.
"All of his secrets are in the basement beneath our house in Shiganshina District," Zeke replied evenly. "If you want the truth, that's where you'll find it."
"You can't just tell us now?"
Zeke shook his head. "I've been separated from him for thirteen years. I don't know what he's done during that time, or how far his research has gone. If you really want answers, go to the basement. That's where they'll all be."
"I see…" Erwin leaned forward slightly, the glint of curiosity never leaving his eyes. "However, the Shiganshina District is overrun with Titans. It's suicide to cross that territory. Zeke—can you help us get there?"
"No."
The answer came colder than he expected.
"I can't transform into a Titan anymore."
Erwin's brows knit together. "Why not?"
"The serum is gone. And my father is dead."
"Serum?"
"I already told you — Titanization requires an injection," Zeke said flatly. "But with my father gone, there's no one left to make more."
"I see…" Erwin murmured. "You traveled thousands of miles just to find your father, though. You must have wanted something else."
"I came for another medicine."
"What kind?"
"The same one," Zeke replied, voice low. "But not to transform again. I needed the other type — the one that could prolong life."
Erwin froze. "You mean the Titan serum shortens it?"
"From the first injection," Zeke said, "you have only thirteen years left to live."
Erwin drew in a quiet breath. "You've been apart from your father for thirteen years…"
Zeke nodded once.
Silence filled the interrogation room like a weight. The Commander stared at the young man before him — a soldier with the face of a scholar and the eyes of someone already dying. For the first time, he understood why Zeke had risked everything to save his brother.
"I understand," Erwin said quietly. "We'll find a way to reach that basement. But before that, there's something else—"
"I'm tired, Erwin."
The interruption was calm, final.
"You're still under interrogation," Erwin reminded him. "You don't decide when the questioning ends."
Zeke looked up with an icy indifference. "I've told you everything I can. The rest, you'll find in the basement. That's all I have left to say."
For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, neither yielding. Finally, Erwin exhaled through his nose and leaned back. "Fine. We'll pause here."
He bent down, pulling a small wooden box from beneath the table. From it, he took a medicine case — and something else.
When Zeke saw it, his blood ran cold.
"It seems this belongs to you," Erwin said.
Zeke's expression hardened instantly. "No."
"Don't deny it," Erwin said lightly. "This doll looks just like your Titan form. Hard to believe it wasn't meant for you."
He smiled faintly, not noticing how Zeke's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with restrained rage.
"I told you—it isn't mine."
"I asked your stepmother and your brother," Erwin continued. "Neither of them recognized it. But Dr. Grisha always carried it with him, called it his lucky charm. I think… he meant you."
The air grew heavier.
Zeke's gaze locked on the small stuffed figure — a crude, hand-sewn monkey doll, its button eyes uneven, its seams messy. He stared for so long that Erwin began to feel uneasy.
At last, Zeke said softly, "I don't play with toys anymore."
"Even so," Erwin replied, "these are Dr. Grisha's relics. They belong to you now."
He closed the box and turned to leave.
When the heavy door shut behind him, silence swallowed the room.
Zeke sat motionless for a long moment, staring at the doll on the table. Then, suddenly, he rose.
With one swift motion, he snatched the toy up, twisted its head off, and hurled it against the wall.
The dull thud echoed through the stone chamber. The doll's body split, cotton spilling out like snow. Zeke's breathing grew ragged, his shoulders trembling.
He stared at the remains, his chest heaving.
When he was a boy, he'd had a similar toy — a little monkey doll he'd once loved dearly. But this one… this wasn't it. The people inside the Walls didn't even know what monkeys were. Which meant… Grisha had made this one by hand, long after coming here.
A sick twist of sentimentality.
Pretending affection after betraying me…?
When they last met, Zeke had faced him as an enemy. A soldier, not a son. There was no warmth left between them — only ideology and pain.
He shut his eyes, fighting to steady his breath.
I don't need this. I don't need him.
He remembered the childish joy of tossing a ball with a friend — the one thing that had made him feel free. He was too old for dolls now.
"Let the world lines converge," he whispered hoarsely, "and I'll return your orbit to you…"
He shouldn't have come to Paradis. Shouldn't have interfered in fates not his own. The path of history was set; his meddling only broke what was never his to fix.
Whatever was meant to happen — would happen.
Observation Room.
Through the narrow slit of reinforced glass, Keith Shadis and several officers watched in silence as Zeke smashed the toy.
Even seasoned soldiers flinched at the feral look on his face. The quiet young man now looked like a beast barely restraining its true form.
"It seems he truly despised Grisha," Keith said grimly. "I've known that man for years. Never imagined he'd drive his own son to that."
"No wonder he killed him," Hange muttered, unable to look away.
At that moment, Erwin returned, medicine box in hand. He froze upon seeing the ruined doll on the floor.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have given it to him…" he murmured.
Then, composing himself, he saluted Keith. "Captain. We've confirmed new intelligence. Zeke claims that Grisha's research — and the answers we've been seeking — lie in the basement of his home in Shiganshina."
Keith's brows furrowed. "Grisha did have a basement. He never let anyone near it. I assumed it was a place for meditation… but it was his research base all along."
Outwardly calm, Keith's voice carried a tremor. He had shared drinks and laughter with Grisha countless times, and yet — the man's greatest secret had always been right beside him, locked away behind an unassuming door.
"So close," he muttered bitterly. "So damn close."
Forcing composure, he straightened. "We leave for Shiganshina at once. We'll uncover whatever lies in that basement."
"No," Erwin said firmly. "We just fought at Shiganshina. Most of our soldiers are dead or wounded. We can't march back immediately. If we go now, exhausted, we'll all die there."
Keith paused. Then slowly, he nodded. "You're right, Erwin."
The captains in the room went silent — stunned.
Hange blinked. "Wait, what? Did the captain… actually agree with you?"
"Unprecedented," murmured a soldier behind her.
Erwin smiled faintly but said nothing.
Outside, the night wind carried faint echoes of the sea — and beneath the flickering lamplight, the shredded remains of the monkey doll lay still, its head turned toward the wall as if refusing to look back.