"Hand… over?"
Erwin's brow creased, uncertain if he'd heard right.
Zeke sat cross-legged on the edge of the interrogation room table, his tone calm—too calm.
"Isn't your captain under pressure right now? All four of your commanders are scrambling to get answers. They want information from me, don't they?" He looked up with a faint, mocking smile. "Then hand me over. Bring every noble, every soldier, every citizen who can listen—and I'll tell them everything. The whole truth."
Erwin's lips twitched. "The whole truth?" His tone dripped with irony. "You didn't seem this talkative in the dungeon."
He could almost hear the echoes of Zeke's earlier statements reverberating in his memory:
"I've said everything I can."
"There's nothing else to tell."
"Even if you kill me, I can't say what I don't know!"
Erwin stared at him now, resisting the urge to laugh. Who was that stubborn fool again?
Zeke met his gaze without shame. "I heard you were injured," he said abruptly.
Erwin blinked, caught off guard. His hand brushed his right arm, where the bandages peeked from beneath his coat. "Just a scratch. Nothing serious. Levi warned me in time, so I made preparations before reporting to the King. Still… I didn't expect to be nearly assassinated right after."
Zeke smirked. "That's good news."
"Good—?"
"At least it proves your Survey Corps is clean."
Erwin gave him a look halfway between disbelief and amusement. "That's an unusual way to look at it."
Zeke only smiled faintly—without warmth, without malice. It was a hollow, tired smile.
At least Levi's warning had kept Erwin alive. That was something. In this era, trust was rarer than victory.
Erwin finally exhaled and nodded. "Of course my regiment is clean. We've risked our lives together; every one of my soldiers is someone I can trust with my back."
Zeke's gaze slid sideways, landing on Levi. "Really?"
Levi stared back wordlessly.
"Ahem." Erwin straightened his posture. "He's a bit… new to teamwork, but he's making progress integrating with the others."
Levi's eye twitched.
Zeke nearly laughed. He didn't need to read their history to sense the tension. Levi—once a thug from the Underground—looked more like a weapon than a soldier. Even in uniform, he carried the aura of someone who'd lived by street rules, not military codes.
As for Erwin… a visionary trying to lead men who never fully fit the mold. The pairing almost made sense. Almost.
Zeke sighed quietly. A commander and a killer. The Survey Corps really hasn't changed.
Perhaps sensing his unspoken thought, Erwin leaned closer, voice firm. "Zeke, I want you to understand something.
The Survey Corps is not like the others. We're an organization worthy of trust—and of entrusting your life to."
Zeke chuckled. "Your Corps can't even afford breakfast."
Erwin froze mid-sentence.
Zeke continued, his tone light but scathing. "I remember Trost District—half your soldiers couldn't scrape together a meal. And the dungeon? Don't even start. I've seen better conditions in Marleyan prison cells."
Levi's jaw tightened.
Zeke gestured lazily. "Face it—you're broke. The government starves you of resources, the people mock you, and half your numbers die every time you leave the walls. You've got the smallest force, the worst reputation, and you're still somehow proud of it."
He exhaled, almost softly. "It's a miracle you still exist."
Erwin's expression darkened. "You think we're not strong enough."
Zeke tilted his head. "Tell me, Commander. What else does your Corps do—besides die?"
Erwin's eyes hardened. "We have will."
Zeke couldn't help but laugh—a low, bitter sound. "When a corps has nothing left, 'will' is all it has to boast about."
But Erwin didn't flinch. He stepped forward, his voice steady as granite.
"The Survey Corps possesses the rarest will of all humanity—the will to seek truth freely. We are not content to live as livestock behind these walls. We move forward, always. Even when it costs us our lives." His blue eyes burned like the torches outside. "These walls can't imprison our hearts. Power can't chain our minds. We'll die on the road to freedom before we die in this cage."
The room fell silent.
Zeke didn't respond.
Erwin studied him, noting the stillness, the way the young man's eyes didn't light up like the new recruits who used to weep at such speeches.
The boy before him looked twenty—yet his silence was that of someone much older.
Erwin sighed inwardly and motioned to Levi for another cigarette.
Levi stared at him flatly. (눈_눈)
Erwin gestured again.
Levi muttered under his breath, but still passed one over and lit it.
"Now you owe me one pack, Commander," Levi said. He jabbed a finger toward Zeke. "And you owe me two!"
Zeke accepted the cigarette, brow raised. "…Do I look like someone who can pay you back?"
Erwin coughed into his hand. "Don't mind him. He used to collect protection fees in the Underground."
Levi's glare could've killed a man.
"Oh?" Zeke's smirk returned. "Then maybe I'll give you three packs in advance. Would that buy me your protection?"
Levi's temple pulsed. "At most, it'll keep me from cutting you up!"
"Oh." Zeke nodded solemnly. "So… limited coverage, then."
Levi growled low in his throat.
Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, half-laughing despite himself. "Enough. Zeke," he said at last, "I don't know how to make you trust us. But before you judge our Corps again…"
He took a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke coiling in the dim light.
"…listen to a story first."
To be continued…