When Zeke woke up again, there was a monkey sitting at the head of his bed.
The monkey stared at him silently.
He stared back.
Both looked equally unimpressed.
Zeke sighed. He didn't know which overly sentimental fool had found the stuffed toy he'd tossed away, stitched its torn head back on, and placed it there like some morbid guardian. Whoever did it clearly lacked sewing skills—the poor thing looked worse than before.
Dragging himself upright, Zeke felt as though he'd slept for a century. His body was heavy, his mind fogged. Still, he sensed something different this time. The haze that had kept him half-dreaming for days was gone. He didn't want to sleep anymore.
After washing his face with the icy water in the basin, he heard footsteps and voices outside the iron cell door.
Two familiar silhouettes appeared—Levi and Erwin.
Levi's dead-fish eyes were even sharper than usual. "Hey, you stupid monkey," he snapped,
"what's with that candy?"
Zeke blinked. "Candy?" He frowned, searching his memory. "You mean the one I ate before? It's just regular candy. What's the problem?"
CLANG!
Levi slammed his hand against the bars, the sound reverberating through the dungeon. "You'd better tell the truth! If there's anything strange about that candy, I swear I'll cut you to pieces!"
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "You already have. If fate insists on replaying itself, dying by your hands again doesn't sound too bad."
Levi bristled. "You wanna die right now?" He grabbed at the lock as if he'd tear the door off.
"Levi," Erwin interjected smoothly, his tone calm but firm. He stepped forward and gave Zeke a measured smile. "Relax. We ran every test we could. It really seems to be just sugar. No toxins, no special chemicals."
Zeke stared at them, utterly speechless. "…You people analyzed candy? How bored are you?"
Erwin shrugged slightly. "It's not boredom. It's necessity. When someone spends all day asleep instead of cooperating, we run out of productive work to do—and start making wild guesses."
"I told you," Zeke said, rubbing his temple, "it's just ordinary sugar."
"Is it really?" Erwin's blue eyes gleamed with quiet curiosity.
"Yes," Zeke replied flatly. "Ordinary candy. The kind you buy two for a dime from a roadside stall. I bought a can of them wholesale."
"Interesting." Erwin's polite smile didn't fade. "Because we searched every shop in the area, every vendor, and every warehouse. No one sells candy that matches yours exactly. So, Zeke—where did you buy it?"
Zeke let out a short laugh and dropped back onto the bed, leaning beside the ugly monkey doll. "So that's what this is about. Don't worry, Erwin—it's just sugar. There's nothing inside it. No poison, no magic Titan juice."
Erwin didn't smile this time. "Is there really a drug that can turn humans into Titans?"
Zeke's expression hardened, then he smirked. "Erwin, you have a knack for latching onto the most irrelevant details. I already told you—everything you want to know is in my father's basement, in the Shiganshina District. You'll find your answers there."
Erwin nodded slowly. "We did go looking. After you mentioned the basement, we sent scouting teams. But from atop Wall Maria, when we looked down into Shiganshina…" His gaze darkened.
"The place is swarming with Titans. More than anywhere else we've seen. It's… unnatural."
Zeke frowned. "Unnatural? Please. When I arrived here, the area outside your walls had the highest Titan density I'd ever seen. You're telling me the fallen Shiganshina District is even worse?"
"Yes," Erwin said gravely. "Much worse."
"How is that possible?"
Erwin clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly. "Think about the city's design. The Shiganshina District was built like a trap—with only two narrow entry points. Once the Titans flood in, they can't find their way out.
They wander endlessly inside. Over the years, more and more have gathered. It's a cage they can't escape from."
Zeke nodded, thoughtful. "Ah, right. Brainless creatures stuck in a maze—it figures. If I were you, Erwin, I'd just stockpile gunpowder. Once the district's full, toss it in and—boom!" He gestured dramatically. "A glorious sea of fire. Humanity defeats the Titans once again! History books will sing your praises."
Erwin didn't flinch. "That's exactly what we're planning. We've already started collecting explosives. But…" He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You said your father's basement holds the answers I'm seeking. I'm starting to think those answers are you."
Zeke chuckled slowly. "You're wasting your time. I've already told you everything I'm willing to share."
"And what about the things you're not willing to share?" Erwin asked, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. "When will you tell us those?"
Zeke's smile thinned. "…Erwin, nitpicking my words won't change anything. I've told you what I know."
Erwin didn't push, only changed tack. "Then humor me. Tell me again—where did you buy the candy?"
"Roadside," Zeke said.
"Which side?"
"I don't remember. I just bought it off a street vendor. Someone gave me the can, and I brought it here. Probably from some small-time seller. No label, no brand. Of course you couldn't find it." He gave a lazy shrug. "You upper-class types don't understand—street vendors cut corners to save money. They make knockoffs of everything. Cheap, unregistered, untraceable."
Erwin stared at him for a long moment. He didn't need to say it aloud—he didn't believe a word.
"Besides," Erwin said finally, "I also looked into your records."
Zeke tilted his head, amused. "Records? You must've been really bored."
Erwin ignored the jab. "Surprisingly, I couldn't find a single file on you."
Zeke wasn't surprised. He had expected this question from the start. "My records are with my father.
He lived in Shiganshina, so naturally, that's where my file is too. Unfortunately, since the district's been overrun by Titans, retrieving it won't be easy."
He added casually, "As for Annie and the others—they're orphans. Abandoned on the streets when they were babies. I picked them up, raised them. Of course you can't find official records for them."
Erwin's eyes sharpened. "Funny… that's not what Annie and the others told us."
Zeke froze. His expression didn't change, but the air in the room thickened instantly.
A faint smile tugged at Erwin's lips. "So, which one of you is lying?"
For the first time in a long while, Zeke had no ready answer.
The monkey at the head of the bed seemed to grin wider, its crooked stitches pulling taut in the dim light.