Hearing Roger's words, Lord Rod Reiss looked him up and down.
Under the dim lamp, his face stayed blank, as if nothing interested him. Even with the "Jaw Titan" he desperately wanted sitting right there in a cell before him, he showed no joy at all, like a man who hid everything deep.
His mind seemed elsewhere. After studying Roger for a long moment, Rod Reiss suddenly seemed to remember something and said to Kenny at his side:
"To ensure safety, hack Roger into a limbless stump. Move everyone else out and give him this whole space."
"Is that necessary?" Kenny sneered. He glanced at Roger and muttered, "I think Mr. Roger here knows perfectly well that if he transforms in this underground cell, he'll only suffocate himself and get buried alive."
At that, the other prisoners traded puzzled looks.
Rod Reiss noticed and quickly cut Kenny off.
"Enough, Kenny. That's an order. I order you to do it. What, are you going to betray the dead Uri?"
"Heh, this again." Kenny scoffed, rubbing his brow. After a beat, he nodded. "Fine, fine. We'll do it your way, my lord."
With a look, he signaled his men. The Central Anti-Personnel MPs who had sealed the block swarmed in and dragged out Roger's "roommates"—the gang bosses jailed with him.
"These can be killed. It doesn't matter," Rod added, lifting a hand toward Kenny's subordinates.
Kenny dipped his chin, turned to his men, and drew a finger across his throat. "Do as he says. Find somewhere suitable."
The bosses blanched and broke into wails, swearing they'd never try to flee, swearing they accepted imprisonment, begging not to be executed.
No one present listened.
Kamen was yanked out as well. He knew death was coming; before it did, he still wanted to know who, exactly, this "Reiner" really was.
So he found a chance to glance back.
In the murk, Roger sat against the cell wall, the upper half of his face lost in shadow, the lower half showing a smile that made the skin crawl.
Gone mad with doom? Kamen wondered. He sighed and let himself be led out.
The bosses' howls faded, and the iron door slammed shut.
The underground prison now held only three: Roger, Rod, and the headsman—Kenny.
"…Roger, this might hurt a little. I'd appreciate it if you didn't scream," Kenny said calmly—words that chilled the bones—as he drew a short knife from the sheath on his thigh.
The edge was razor keen, flashing cold under the light.
Rod Reiss watched without emotion. He needed to see Roger trimmed into a human stick, helpless, before he'd be at ease.
Roger sat motionless, body loose, as if preparing something.
Kenny closed in, the knife about to punch into Roger's flesh—
That was when Roger's whole body jerked.
Kenny sensed it instantly and slid half a step back.
"What is it, Kenny? Hurry up and cut him!" Rod frowned.
Kenny didn't move. He said nothing.
Right then, his face had gone deadly serious. He stared at Roger like he was staring at something dangerous.
Just now, when Roger twitched, Kenny had clearly seen something odd peeking at the collar.
Blackish red.
A rat?
Kenny's eyes narrowed. He smelled danger.
Old instincts told him: one step more, and you die without a grave.
Sweat beaded and ran down his forehead.
He'd felt this once, years ago—when he talked himself into challenging Uri, only to be caught in one hand by the man who held the Founding Titan inside him.
Back then terror had flooded him. Faith and honor turned to trash. Only the will to live kept bubbling up.
This time he didn't fight it. He exhaled, turned, and tossed the short knife to Rod Reiss.
"You want it, you do it."
"What? You're afraid?!" Rod snapped. He thought Kenny shouldn't defy him now, of all times. "You said it yourself—Roger won't dare transform underground. So why the fear now?"
Kenny ignored him and headed for the exit.
"Stop!"
The roar made Kenny halt.
But he didn't obey. He grabbed Rod Reiss by the lapels one-handed and lifted the squat, soft-bellied lord off his feet.
"Listen, old man. Don't think I'm really your lapdog. Without Uri, you're nothing."
He flung Rod to the floor, turned, and walked out.
Rod lay stunned for a moment. When Kenny was gone, he found his breath again, spat curses, and shouted for the MPs outside the door.
The Central squad had left with Kenny. The ones who came in now were ordinary MPs.
Rod Reiss wasn't about to swing the blade himself, so he ordered them to do it.
They hadn't expected this kind of job. They looked at Roger in the cell and hesitated.
"My lord Reiss, better to anesthetize him first. If he bleeds out and dies—"
"Fine," Rod sighed. "You're not Kenny, after all…"
An MP arched a brow, rolled his eyes behind Rod's back, and went to fetch sedatives.
The cell held only Rod Reiss and Roger now.
They faced each other through the bars.
"Roger," Rod broke the silence, "are you truly from beyond the Walls?"
"Yeah."
Roger kept his eyes shut, answering offhand, body twitching now and then like a man with some hidden ailment.
Staring at him, Rod suddenly seemed to catch on to something and murmured, "So that's it…"
"Do you know Jean Fritz?"
"Who?"
"…No matter," Rod shook his head. "Just asking. You're about to die anyway. No harm in coughing up a few secrets, is there?"
"…Heh." Roger let out a cold laugh. "Presumptuous, my lord. What makes you so sure I'll die?"
"Isn't that… inevitable?"
Rod's voice dropped.
Kenny's fear flashed through his mind.
And Roger's face… overlapped with a woman's face he'd once seen. He found more and more points in common.
A thunderclap rolled through his chest.
Could it be—
this man was—
Swish!
Before Rod could get a hand into his coat for the Titan spinal fluid syringe he carried, Roger's shut eyes snapped open and he rose to his feet.
Behind him, a blot of blood-black flesh had already glued itself to the wall, creeping outward, scaling and spreading, writhing with a grotesque twist.
From that shadow bloomed a pair of eyes, red as fresh gore—like the gaze of a hungry wraith.
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