A quiet moment passed.

  The whirlwind of emotions that had filled the room slowly drifted away with a stream of tears, and his breaths gradually calmed.

  Armin gently wiped his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

  His heart felt noticeably lighter.

  Like some strange sense of relief that comes after a good cry—

  now that he had said what he’d been holding in,

  he felt like he could finally face this time properly.

  'Guess I must’ve soaked the pillow with tears, huh?

  Hope my eyes won’t be too puffy when I wake up.'

  Eren scratched his head awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

  His cheeks were still slightly red, and his eyes wandered around the room.

  But even so, there was definitely… something warm starting to bloom within them.

  “…Was it really something to be that grateful for...?”

  He muttered quietly,

  then scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed.

  “I just… did what I thought I had to do.”

  It sounded like a casual remark—

  but there was unmistakable feeling behind it.

  Proof that Armin’s words had reached him,

  deep into his heart.

  Eren recalled his past self.

  The day he tracked down and rescued Mikasa from those human traffickers—alone.

  The day he fought back for Armin, when he was cornered by the neighborhood kids.

  Back then, he had simply moved with a single thought in his head:

  “This has to be done.”

  “If not me, then who?”

  And now, all of those memories—

  had come back to him, wrapped in just two simple syllables: “Thank you.”

  “…Well,” Eren shrugged.

  “I’ll keep helping you—whenever you need it.”

  Armin let out a small smile.

  And then, softly, he said:

  “Yeah. Because you’re freedom itself, Eren.”

  His words were gentle—

  yet they resonated deeply.

  Armin remembered what Mikasa had said in front of Eren’s grave

  [Eren’s probably become a bird… flying freely through the world.]

  And just like those words—

  this Eren, in this very moment, wasn’t being chased by anything.

  Not by fate, nor hatred, nor guilt—

  His face carried none of that weight.

  He looked completely, utterly free.

  And as Armin watched him, he wished from the bottom of his heart—

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  that somewhere, somehow,

  this free Eren might still be alive.

  Just as he turned his head with a lighter heart,

  he caught sight of Mikasa.

  “…Mikasa?”

  Her expression had changed.

  Up until now, she had looked calm—

  quiet and serious, yes, but warm.

  The kind of presence that was always there, unwavering.

  But now, Mikasa had her head slightly lowered.

  A shadow had fallen over her eyes, and something unspoken hung in the air around her—

  an intense aura, almost like…

  Killing intent.

  Armin flinched internally.

  It was the same look Mikasa wore whenever someone tried to hurt Eren.

  And it didn’t belong here—not in this moment.

  It felt completely out of place.

  What… Why that face…?

  Well, as it was a dream—

  it was always possible for things to shift without warning.

  Is this some kind of new flag? What a sudden transition?

  Armin wondered to himself quietly.

  If this really was a lucid dream,

  then maybe… this was about the time where the structure of dream would start to collapse.

  At that moment—

  Eren lowered his head slightly, his lips moving as if repeating the words he had just heard.

  “Freedom…”

  That single word began to shift something in his eyes.

  Looking back, he had spent his whole life chasing that word.

  No one had told him to. No one had taught him.

  But, it had simply been that way from the very beginning.

  Ever since the day he first looked up at the walls that blocked his world—

  Freedom had been his yearning.

  His goal, his reason, his very identity.

  So when someone said “You are freedom”—

  it wasn’t just a kind word.

  It wasn’t some abstract idea.

  It was affirmation.

  A reaffirmation of his existence—

  spoken aloud by someone he trusted.

  “…Yeah, Armin. We are free.”

  Upon hearing those words, Armin gently closed his eyes—then opened them again.

  And once more, he spoke, pressing his sincerity into every syllable.

  "Yeah, Eren. You're free now."

  Those words were both Armin’s conviction and his prayer.

  Beside him, Mikasa quietly watched the two of them.

  Her lips were sealed, her gaze still distant.

  Some shadow of emotion, indescribable and quiet, had begun to seep into a corner of young Mikasa’s heart.

  Armin glanced over at her again.

  Her eyes were still clouded, but within them… there was something tense.

  More precisely,

  the air had turned subtly sharp.

  'What is this...? Why does she keep looking like that?'

  A quiet tension coiled inside him.

  She hadn’t said a word, but her presence—

  It was as if, should anyone dare to lay a hand on Eren,

  she would snap their bones on the spot without hesitation.

  '...That’s the face Mikasa makes right before she seriously takes someone down.'

  Maybe, deep within his childhood unconscious,

  there had always been a part of him that feared that look of hers.

  'And maybe… that’s why I’m seeing it now.'

  But soon, as if brushing the thought away, Armin let out a small breath and lifted his gaze toward the window.

  'Still… this is a lucid dream, after all

  What should i try?'

  If he could, it might not be a bad idea to try everything he wanted within this world.

  In a dream where the faces, the expressions, the sensations all felt this vivid—

  surely, the most meaningful thing would be to see the ones he missed the most.

  The first face that came to mind was his grandfather’s.

  'Yeah… let’s go see Grandpa first.'

  And then, the next face—

  Annie.

  He had spent several years with her after the Titans had vanished.

  And they had promised to marry after their duties as peace envoys are complete.

  There was no reason Annie should appear in this time period.

  She would have been training in Marley, preparing to become a Warrior.

  But this is a dream—and a lucid one at that.

  In a dream where his consciousness was functioning this clearly,

  wouldn’t a strong enough desire—and just a touch of narrative logic—be enough to make her appear?

  More than anything, the craving to see Annie from this time in their lives—

  (Armin: "No, it's not just craving. It's love!")

  — now filled Armin’s mind completely.