When Levi and his squad finally left, the beams above the living room creaked as Zeke and his group carefully climbed down.
"The little brother said he'll come again tomorrow morning," Mikasa murmured, almost reluctantly, as she helped Reiner lower himself.
In just a short time, she had already grown fond of these strange guests who had come from afar.
"Tomorrow morning…" Zeke frowned, eyes narrowing. What a hassle. We can't linger here any longer. If they remained, the Survey Corps would surely return.
Capture was not an option—not before he met with his father.
"Auntie," Zeke asked suddenly, turning to Carla, "when will Uncle Grisha be back? Could he return tomorrow morning?"
Carla looked flustered, drying her hands with her apron. "That… I'm not sure. He said he was traveling to the interior to treat a nobleman. He didn't mention when he'd return. But… if it's urgent, I can send a letter tomorrow and ask him to come quickly."
Zeke's heart sank. It seems impossible to wait…
He clenched his jaw.
A decision had to be made.
"Listen," he said firmly, lowering his voice, "go to bed early and rest well tonight. We set off before dawn tomorrow."
"Yes!" the young warriors answered in unison, their expressions tense.
Reiner frowned. "Aren't we waiting for Dr. Yeager?"
"No," Zeke replied. His tone carried no doubt. "I know the location already."
If he couldn't meet his father in time, he would head directly to the royal family's hidden base inside the Walls.
"Captain, how do you know—"
But Zeke didn't hear the rest.
His gaze snapped to Eren, who had just returned from the kitchen clutching the candy jar. It was nearly empty.
"Eren! How did you eat it all so quickly? There's barely any left!"
Horrified, Zeke rushed over and snatched a handful of candies. The jar had been overflowing earlier, yet now only a pitiful scattering remained.
So this is the power of five children with a sweet tooth…
"I promised Grandpa I'd bring candy to Grisha! Now what am I supposed to give him?" His voice rose, anger flaring—but when he saw Eren's pitiful expression, the fury faded. With a sigh, Zeke loosened his grip.
Two pieces remained in his palm.
"…Fine. I'll just take these two. One for Grisha, one for Dina. As long as I keep this promise, the mission is accomplished."
Eren brightened instantly, hugging the jar to his chest. The rest was his alone.
…
That night, despite knowing Zeke's purpose was to take her husband and son away, Carla still prepared a full table of steaming dishes.
Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie froze when they saw the spread.
Their eyes widened, their bodies stiff. They hung back near the doorway, unable to approach.
"What's wrong? Come and eat!" Carla beckoned warmly, puzzled by their hesitation.
"Is… this really for us?" Reiner stammered, his disbelief so raw it was almost childlike.
"Of course," Carla said with a smile. She and Mikasa quickly set the table. "Now come sit."
The three warriors finally edged closer and took their seats, still stiff as statues.
"What are you waiting for? Eat! Use your chopsticks!" Carla urged cheerfully.
Awkwardly, they picked up the utensils, then froze again—staring at each other in silent confusion. None of them knew how to use chopsticks properly.
Carla frowned. "What's the matter?"
Zeke quickly covered for them.
"We… grew up in the mountains, with little good food. We've never seen such a feast before. Please, could you… teach us?"
It wasn't entirely a lie. In Marley, their meals had been meager, barely edible. The children of the internment zone lived in poverty, surviving on scraps.
Becoming warriors was seen as the only way out—yet even then, Marley's "reward" was a cruel trick: meat for a time, but in the end only the battlefield, the first to die.
The recruits had never known the luxury of a home-cooked meal.
'Is this really… for us?'
A darker thought crept into Bertolt's mind: Such delicious food… is it poisoned?
Don't they feed the condemned one last meal before execution?
Fear rooted them in place. Their hands trembled.
"Alright, enough!" Zeke snapped suddenly, half in anger, half in disbelief.
"It's food, not poison! Eat!"
To prove his point, he dug in first, chewing heartily.
Watching him, the others hesitated—then slowly followed.
"This is just ordinary food," Eren said innocently, tilting his head. "Why would you think it's poisoned?"
"Ordinary…" The word hit them like a blow. To Eren it was normal, but to them it was a revelation.
The moment the flavors touched their tongues, their eyes widened.
"Delicious!"
The taste burst across their senses like light through darkness. They devoured the food with wild abandon, chopsticks clumsy but desperate.
"Hey! Slow down!" Eren cried, clutching his own plate. "If you eat everything like that, what about me?"
But his protests were drowned out by the scraping of dishes and the sounds of frantic chewing. Even he had no choice but to dive in.
Carla laughed softly, watching them with maternal warmth.
…
After dinner, as Carla washed dishes, she called: "Mikasa, help me clean up. Eren, chop wood so we can heat the bath for our guests."
Eren groaned, already imagining the work. But before he could complain, Zeke stood.
"I'll do it."
Carla shook her head. "How could we trouble our guests like that?"
Zeke rolled up his sleeves. "How could a little boy chop enough wood for seven baths? He'd be exhausted. Let me help. Eren should rest."
"Brother Zeke! I love you!" Eren shouted, pumping his fist. Free from chores at last, he dashed out the door to play with Armin.
Zeke froze, blinking at the boy's unguarded joy. Then, quietly, he wiped a tear from his eye. This time… kids still say 'I love you.' When they grow up, every word becomes fake.
Sniffling, he carried the axe to the back of the cabin and began chopping wood. Over and over—splitting, stacking, boiling water. His arms moved tirelessly.
It was well past midnight when he paused, wiping sweat from his brow. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows.
His heart jolted. Then he exhaled—Annie.
"Is it your turn to bathe? Go quickly, then rest. We leave at dawn," he said gruffly, turning back to the woodpile.
But Annie didn't move. She just stood there, pale in the candlelight, her blue eyes bottomless.
Zeke frowned. "What's wrong? Didn't you have fun today? Why so gloomy again?"
The axe thudded into the log. He kept working.
Silence stretched. Finally, Annie's quiet voice reached him.
"Captain… will you take us home? Will I be able to see my father again?"
Zeke froze. The log split neatly beneath his hands, but his heart felt heavier than stone.
Inside the house, Reiner sat alone at the table.
Tears streamed silently down his face, dripping onto the empty dishes.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he whispered, over and over, to no one but himself.