"Every time you look at me… it feels weird."
Ymir's question seemed casual, but her eyes betrayed a subtle alertness and sharp intuition.
Lillian frowned slightly, surprised at how perceptive she was. No matter how well he disguised himself, someone with Titan powers would naturally see things a little differently than ordinary people. Yet the Warrior trio had never noticed it—only Ymir had.
It made sense when you considered life experience. Reiner and the others were just teenagers; their perspectives were immature. Even after years of training and indoctrination, their characters weren't fully set. Otherwise, Reiner wouldn't have broken down mentally.
Ymir, however, was different. In terms of age, she could almost be considered a grandmother to her peers—if you counted the sixty years she had spent as an untainted Titan wandering outside the Wall. Her life experience made her far more mature and perceptive than most others.
Even so, she concealed her suspicion behind teasing words.
"So… you don't like me, do you?"
"Uh…? No."
"Tsk. Doesn't matter if your words and heart don't match, or whatever," Ymir shook her head. "Anyway, I like Krista. We're going to get married in the future~"
"Is that so? Then allow me to offer my congratulations in advance: 'Happy wedding, may your life be long and blissful.'"
"Hahaha!" Ymir laughed heartily. "I love hearing that." She pulled the trigger, launching her grappling hook, and shot off into the air. "See you later, little shorty~"
"… …"
Lillian exhaled quietly as he watched her disappear.
No matter what, he didn't want Ymir to know that he was aware she was the intelligent Titan. With her personality, she probably wouldn't try to kill him even if she knew, but… it was still better this way.
"Almost there," he muttered.
---
Three years had passed in the blink of an eye. Lillian, like the others, had grown taller and gained the strength to fight Titans. But that power had been honed through grueling practice—swinging blades at wooden Titans was nothing compared to facing real ones.
Ordinary Titans were slow, but far more dangerous than stationary wooden dummies. The fear of death in actual combat affected performance, something absent in practice.
Nevertheless, Lillian had mastered the omni-directional mobility gear—a tool essential for moving freely in this world. With it, he could traverse the island and inner Wall efficiently, rather than being limited to running on the ground.
These three years weren't spent solely mastering the gear. Lillian had undergone comprehensive training: horseback riding, hand-to-hand combat, strategy, craftsmanship, logistics, and marching. Persisting through all of it had transformed him into a true soldier.
The ODM gear, however, remained his priority. Despite the cruel world he lived in, mastering this "black tech" exhilarated him. Even in the 21st-century Earth, humans couldn't achieve true freedom of flight. Airplanes, gliders, parachutes—they all fell short. But the gear allowed a kind of near-weightless mobility—provided you had a point to push off from.
This freedom thrilled Lillian. He had reveled in it for a long time, though now the excitement had mellowed, shadowed by the looming reality: graduation was near.
For the 104th trainees, these three years were the only truly good days. After graduation, crises and death would strike relentlessly. The cruel world was about to reveal its true face.
---
At the training ground, trainees practiced hand-to-hand combat. Most went through the motions lazily.
Close-quarters combat wasn't part of their overall score; it didn't affect rankings. The general consensus: human opponents were irrelevant—Titans were the real threat.
Some practiced diligently out of habit, like Eren, who trained seriously even when he doubted the usefulness.
His opponent, Reiner, was frustrated—he was thrown to the ground within a few moves. In this regard, he didn't match Eren's dedication. Full effort might have been different, though.
Lillian sat quietly in a corner, doing nothing.
Keith couldn't intervene—no one dared train with him. His reputation as the "Strongman Shorty" was well-known; everyone feared being punched through by him.
Lillian found it frustrating. Over the years, he had mastered his strength completely, controlling it without losing temper. Others didn't know, and he couldn't reveal it, so he had to accept the solitude.
At least it was peaceful… until now.
"Lillian!"
The quiet was shattered. Eren and Reiner approached, Eren extending a hand. "Come on, let's practice!"
"Huh?"
"Hey, Eren, are you serious?" Reiner asked, half-concerned, half-teasing. "This guy's the 'Strongman Shorty.'"
"…"
Over the years, their relationships had grown strong. Calling him by that nickname openly showed how close they had become.
"You're exaggerating, right?" Eren said. Lillian stood. "Fine, might as well. I've got time to kill."