The new recruit rode with poise. Too much poise, perhaps.
Erwin studied the young man from the corner of his eye. Pale hair like morning frost, robes tailored just enough to hint at refinement, posture upright but never stiff. He held his reins as if he were used to control—over horses, perhaps, or over people.
Merlin.
No last name, like Levi. No history on record before enlistment. Top of his class in nearly every category—for brute strength, for speed, reaction time, tactical awareness. He made decisions faster than others processed questions. And yet, he kept to himself.
Polite. Observant. Quiet.
In conversation, he gave little. When Erwin questioned him, Merlin answered with insight—but never with intimacy. Not really, and even his mention of being a survivor of Shiganshina felt off. It was like speaking to a book that occasionally whispered between the lines.
Erwin had pegged him as a wise, logical type. Reserved, but useful. The kind of mind he could use—someone who could see three moves ahead, follow orders, and understand why some of them must be difficult.
He felt a strange satisfaction knowing a man like that had chosen his command.
But that impression began to dissolve the moment Hange Zoe appeared over the rise, waving one arm with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.
"Commander!" Hange called, practically jogging over. "We didn't expect you back till nightfall!"
Erwin gave a brief nod, dismounting. "We made good time."
Hange's eyes drifted immediately to Merlin, who had also stepped down from his horse with practiced ease.
"Oh, is this the new one?" Hange grinned. "The only one who chose us this year?"
Erwin opened his mouth, but didn't have to speak. Merlin looked up, and something—shifted. The calm, quiet young man was gone. In his place stood someone smiling with open warmth, eyes sparkling like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Yes," Merlin said brightly. "I've been hoping to meet you."
Hange blinked. "You have?"
"I want to know everything about Titans," he said, stepping forward with the eager grace of someone completely unaffected by fear or pretense. "Their behavior, their biology, their origin—what drives them, what makes them. I've read everything the Corps has published and everything it hasn't. I have notes. Theories. Dreams."
Hange's eyes lit up like stars had bloomed in them.
"You—! You read everything? Even the restricted stuff?!"
Merlin tilted his head, smile unabashed. "Technically, I found it."
Hange let out a delighted squeak and immediately grabbed both his hands. "Oh, we are going to get along so well."
Erwin, still holding the reins of his horse, blinked once.
The transformation was… impressive.
No—more than that. Calculated.
He wasn't sure which version of Merlin was real. The poised analyst who answered in measured sentences… or the wide-eyed researcher who lit up in the presence of Titans.
Possibly both. Which made him harder to understand—and more dangerous.
Erwin filed that observation away carefully, and watched as Hange practically dragged Merlin toward the research buildings, the two already chattering like co-conspirators.
The wind shifted, and the Wall loomed behind him like a sleeping beast.
Erwin turned back to it, thoughtful.
At least he's ours, he thought.
For now.
.
The base was unusually quiet that morning.
The latest patrol had left at dawn, and aside from the occasional thud of boots or scrape of crates being moved, the Survey Corps headquarters sat in a lull. Between breath and blood. Between loss and recovery.
Erwin stood at the upper window of his office, arms folded behind his back, gazing out over the courtyard.
Below, Merlin was speaking animatedly to Hange again, hands moving in loose, elegant gestures, his white hair catching the sun like spun thread. Hange was laughing, one hand on their head, the other gripping a notebook as they argued over something that, knowing them, was probably impossible to prove and even harder to ignore.
Merlin looked like he belonged there. Too much so.
It had only been a week since he joined, and yet he had folded into Hange's chaotic orbit with the ease of someone born for it.
In public, he was cheerful. Whimsical. Polite, sometimes flirtatious in that offhanded, harmless way that drew people to him without giving them anything real. He smiled often. Listened well. Asked questions that ranged from philosophical to absurd.
But Erwin had learned to watch people in the quiet moments between who they pretended to be.
And Merlin—Merlin didn't sleep in the barracks. He often wandered out of camp at night and returned with no mud on his boots and no scent of the forest. He helped in every task asked of him, but always just enough. He never flinched in battle simulations, and he always won sparring matches—never by overwhelming force, but by knowing what the opponent would do next.
He was a soldier built for secrets. And Erwin's gaze sharpened as he watched the man below—now leaning against the railing beside Hange, watching clouds drift above the Wall like a daydreamer who didn't quite believe in gravity.
The door behind him creaked open.
Nile would have knocked. So would Mike.
Erwin didn't turn.
"Welcome back, Levi," he said quietly.
The steps paused. "How did you know?"
"You move differently when you're tired."
Another pause. Then the door shut fully behind them.
"I told you to rest longer," Erwin added, finally turning to see him.
Levi stood in full uniform, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His eyes were clearer than they had been in weeks, but not by much.
"You ordered me to," Levi said flatly. "Didn't mean I wanted to."
Erwin allowed himself a brief smile. "And yet, you obeyed."
Levi said nothing.
Erwin stepped aside and gestured toward the window. "There's someone I'd like you to observe."
Levi stepped up beside him and followed his gaze.
Merlin.
Still smiling, still talking, still entirely out of place among soldiers and scars.
Levi frowned. "That the new one?"
"Yes. Only recruit from the last class who joined us."
"Figures." A pause. "Looks useless."
"Looks," Erwin agreed, "can be deceiving."
He clasped his hands behind his back again.
"I'd like to know what you think of him, once you've had the chance."
.Levi's POV.
Two days.
Levi spent two full days watching Merlin like he was a strange painting hung crooked on the wall. Something clearly wrong, but you couldn't put your finger on it without tilting your head and staring too long.
Merlin noticed him immediately. Levi could tell—he always could. The brief glance, the twitch at the corner of his mouth that almost became a smile. But the bastard never said anything. Just kept on doing whatever strange thing he was doing—walking around the garden barefoot, or studying birds, or helping with equipment checks in that weirdly graceful way, like even tightening bolts was some kind of performance art.
He was too clean.
Not just physically—though that too, because he never seemed to sweat, and Levi would've noticed—but in movement, in presence. His footsteps barely made a sound. His uniform, even after drills, never looked truly wrinkled. His hair caught the sunlight like it was doing it on purpose.
And his face—
Levi scowled deeper just thinking about it.
Too pretty. Too smooth. Too punchable. Like the kind of face that had never been punched and needed to be, just once, to knock some sense into it.
He didn't look like a soldier. He looked like someone who'd read about war in a book once and decided to cosplay it.
Still… He moved like someone who knew how to avoid being seen. That wasn't just elegance. It was instinct. And instincts didn't come from nowhere.
Levi narrowed his eyes as Merlin helped one of the stablehands calm a skittish horse, whispering something to it with a gentle hand on its neck. The animal settled instantly.
Even the damn horses liked him.
Levi would've dismissed him already if not for one thing: Erwin never brought attention to someone without reason.
So he waited.
Waited for the moment Hange inevitably shoved that glittering weirdness straight into his face like a bad surprise.
And it came when Levi had just finished re-sorting the supply reports. The door burst open and Hange practically skipped in, grinning like a lunatic.
"Levi!" they chirped. "You have to meet Merlin."
Levi raised one brow. "Do I?"
"Yes," Hange said with zero hesitation, already dragging the tall white-haired pain-in-the-ass into the room behind them. "Officially. Erwin wants you to evaluate him for field integration or something. Might as well say hi now."
Merlin looked just as irritating in close proximity. Tall, slim, pristine. Like some rich noble's son playing dress-up in Scout gear.
Levi stood from his desk with a grunt and stepped forward.
Hange beamed. "Levi, this is Merlin. Merlin, meet Levi."
Merlin inclined his head. "It's a pleasure," he said, offering his hand with a smile that was probably supposed to be disarming.
Levi stared at the hand. Pale and pretty long fingers. No dirt under the nails. No scars. Callouses barely visible, and only in strange places—not from ODM triggers, but from holding something different. Something like—a staff?
He took the hand anyway. A firm grip. Warm. Soft.
Too soft.
Levi's eyes flicked up to Merlin's face. Still smiling, still unreadable.
Then Hange said something—probably a pun—and Merlin laughed lightly, and Levi took the moment to casually shove Hange aside.
They yelped. "Oi!"
"Shut up," Levi muttered, stepping back. "I've seen enough."
"You haven't even seen him in action yet," Hange argued.
"I've seen enough to know he's weird," Levi said flatly. "Too clean. Too calm."
"And yet," Merlin said, softly amused, "still standing right here."
Levi's eyes narrowed. "You don't sound worried."
"I'm not."
"Why's that?"
Merlin smiled wider. "Because I'm not what you're expecting, Captain. I'm worse."
Levi stared at him. Then, abruptly, turned to Hange. "If he dies, I'm blaming you."
"Oh, we're so going to be best friends," Hange whispered to Merlin.
Merlin just hummed, eyes never leaving Levi's.
.
Levi ate in silence.
The mess hall was loud, as always—boots scraping, utensils clinking, tired soldiers muttering into their food like it had personally offended them. He'd chosen a quieter table, tucked near the far wall, mostly out of habit.
That didn't stop Hange.
"Levi!" they beamed, dropping their tray with far too much enthusiasm. "Mind if we sit here? Great."
They didn't wait for permission.
Merlin followed behind, steps light but measured. He sat beside Hange with the kind of effortless grace that didn't belong in this world. Levi clocked it immediately. The smooth motion. The way he lowered himself onto the bench like he was settling into a velvet chair. The slight tuck of his coat. The upright spine.
Noble.
His every movement screamed nobility. Which was strange, because Levi knew nobility—and Merlin didn't act like them. He smiled too easily. He was too open. There was no sneer, no arrogance. But the manners—they were there. In the way he picked up his fork. In how he passed the salt without being asked. In how he listened, head tilted just enough to show polite attention without groveling.
It was… suspicious.
Moblit sat beside Levi with a long-suffering sigh. "Sorry," he murmured, eyes already on Hange. "They got excited again."
"I can tell," Levi muttered.
"You're missing the bigger pattern!" Hange declared between bites. "It's not just their behavior—it's the heat trails, the territorial movement! It's like migration mixed with emotional imprinting. We've been looking at this all wrong."
"I told you," Merlin said brightly, "they behave more like elemental echoes than biological predators. Patterns of response, not pure instinct. There's memory in muscle. Maybe even dream residue."
Levi blinked once. Dream residue?
Moblit sighed again. "Eat, both of you."
Hange took a bite mid-sentence. "I am eating."
"You've been eating that same bite for five minutes."
Merlin, for his part, was cutting his bread into even pieces, eating at a steady pace between comments. Not rushed. Not distracted.
Disciplined.
His elbows never touched the table. His chewing was silent. His sips of water deliberate.
Levi watched out of the corner of his eye, chewing slower.
"Where'd you learn to eat like that?" he asked suddenly.
Merlin blinked once. "Like what?"
"Like a royal dinner's about to break out."
Merlin smiled, not sheepish—pleased. "I didn't know there was a standard for soldierly eating."
"There isn't," Levi said, eyes narrowing. "That's the point."
Hange grinned. "I think it's charming. And it's nice to finally have someone who doesn't inhale food like it's going to run away."
"I do think the rations could use herbs," Merlin added. "Mint, maybe. Or rosemary."
Moblit looked at him like he'd just asked to season battle plans. Levi leaned back slightly, watching Merlin laugh again at something Hange said.
Too smooth. Too easy.
But those hands he'd shaken earlier—they weren't noble hands. Too soft, yes, but not pampered. The callouses were wrong, old in the wrong places, but there.
Levi didn't know what Merlin was hiding. But he was hiding something.
And Levi would find out what. Probably tomorrow will show him something more now that he couldn't put off the choosing of the new members of his squad.