"Found it," Zeke said softly, lifting his gaze toward the man who had just leapt from the noble seats. His voice, calm and steady, sliced through the courtroom's confusion like a blade. "Found it—the King inside the Wall."
All eyes turned toward the man.
He was short and heavyset, with thinning hair, a scraggly beard, and bloodshot eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. His once-proud face was twisted in fury, yet beneath that anger was unmistakable panic.
He looked haunted, almost sick—and perhaps that was understandable. He had watched his entire family die.
Zeke smiled.
That smile froze the nobleman where he stood. For a single heartbeat, comprehension flickered in his eyes. He knew. He understood that Zeke had recognized him. But it was already too late—every pair of eyes in the courtroom was fixed on him now.
Murmurs broke out among the crowd:
"What did he just say?"
"Did he say… 'fart'?"
"Why would he accuse Zeke of lying?"
"Wait—does that mean Zeke's story isn't true?"
"What's his connection to this 'Karl' Zeke mentioned?"
The nobleman's face went pale. In an instant, he had become the center of public suspicion—the man standing in opposition to Zeke Yeager's grand revelation.
From the back rows, Erwin Smith's gaze sharpened.
He had been tense since the trial began, his unease building with every word Zeke spoke. When the Military Police Brigade first gagged and drugged Zeke with anesthetics, he'd sensed something was off. And when the story of the Titans began to unfold, that uneasiness had become a cold knot in his chest.
Now, it was unraveling into clarity.
Hange, who stood beside him, had noticed his restlessness earlier. "You've been uneasy since this morning," she whispered. "What's wrong, Commander?"
Erwin's voice was low, steady, but edged with concern. "Because something doesn't add up. Zeke said he needs a special serum to transform into a Titan, yet the Military Police Brigade drugged him before the trial—and gagged him. That means they know how he could transform without it."
Hange frowned. "So… you think the anesthesia wasn't to silence him—it was to prevent him from transforming?"
"Exactly." Erwin's eyes narrowed. "Which means someone in this room knows more about Titanization than they're admitting."
Hange's expression turned grave. "Could it be that Zeke's story—the Titan kingdom, the failed experiments—it's all a ploy? Maybe he's pretending to be weak so he can transform here, destroy the King and the President, and—"
"No," Erwin interrupted quietly. "If he intended to attack, he wouldn't have allowed himself to be bound so easily. Something else is going on."
He paused, deep in thought. "Still… why would he willingly come here, knowing he'd be neutralized?"
Hange exhaled shakily. "Maybe he really does want to tell the truth."
"That would be nice," Erwin said, though the tension in his jaw said otherwise.
He couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something critical.
Was Zeke's story true? Or just another layer of deception?
And if he wasn't the enemy… then who was?
The questions piled up, heavy and suffocating.
If what Zeke said about "Karl's descendants" was real, then how many Titans were actually hidden among them? Were there dozens—hundreds? What if they were sitting right here, among the nobles, the clergy, the ministers?
If even one of them transformed now, unarmed as they were—
it would be a masZachary.
The Survey Corps had surrendered their blades out of respect for the royal court. They had no means to fight back if chaos erupted.
Erwin's mind raced.
If something happens, the only ones who could intervene are those two children—Eren and Mikasa… but even they—
And then, like a gunshot through his thoughts:
"You fart!"
The words shattered the suffocating air of the courtroom.
Every head turned toward the voice.
And Zeke… smiled.
That faint, knowing smile was all Erwin needed. His pulse surged.
That's it.
Everything fell into place.
The anesthesia. The gag. The story.
The lie.
Erwin's voice was suddenly sharp. "It's all false."
Hange blinked. "What—?"
"Everything Zeke just said," Erwin continued, "was a lie."
Hange stared at him in disbelief. "If it's all lies, then why tell them? What would he gain?"
"Because," Erwin said slowly, "he's not trying to convince us. He's trying to expose the one person who knows he's lying."
He turned, following Zeke's gaze toward the panicked nobleman.
"That man," Erwin said coldly. "He reacted because he knows the truth."
Hange's breath caught. "Wait—are you saying…"
"Yes." Erwin's eyes hardened. "Rod Reiss. Lord of the Southern Territory."
The name spread through the Survey Corps like wildfire.
Erwin remembered his earlier visit to the Reiss estate—how the noble had greeted them politely, his wife and children smiling, alive and well. Yet according to the official record, his family had died the same night the Titans breached Shiganshina District.
An impossible contradiction.
"The entire Reiss family was reported dead," Erwin murmured. "But that was a lie—a cover-up. And the timing matches perfectly with the fall of Shiganshina. The same day… Zeke's father's experiments disappeared from the records."
Hange's voice trembled. "Then… the fall of Shiganshina wasn't just a tragedy. It was a cleanup."
"A failed experiment," Erwin finished grimly. "And Rod Reiss was involved."
For a moment, the two soldiers just stood there, stunned by the enormity of it.
Erwin's instincts screamed at him to act—to arrest Reiss immediately. His hand twitched toward his sidearm, but Keith Shadis's firm voice cut across his thoughts.
"Don't move," Keith said quietly from behind him. "The King and the President are still here. If you act now, you'll start a war in the courtroom."
Erwin clenched his fists. "But—!"
"No buts," Keith said sternly. "Not yet."
Hange glanced between them, torn. "But if we let Zeke keep talking, his lies will spread. If everyone believes him, his story becomes the truth!"
Keith's voice softened, but his words were heavy. "That's how governments work. The power to define truth doesn't belong to us—it belongs to them. Even if Zeke's words are false, the government can twist them into whatever narrative it chooses."
Hange's lips tightened. "Then the truth dies here."
"It often does," Keith murmured.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Erwin exhaled slowly, regaining his composure.
"You're right," he said quietly. "Our duty isn't to decide the truth today. It's to be ready when the real battle begins."
Hange nodded grimly. "And it will begin soon."
Erwin's eyes drifted back to the stage. Zeke stood tall and silent, the faintest trace of satisfaction in his expression. Across from him, Rod Reiss trembled, sweat glistening down his temple. The crowd whispered, pointing, uncertain whether to believe the man or the story.
In that moment, Erwin felt something unexpected—admiration.
Zeke's story had been a lie, yes, but a calculated one. A weapon. He had drawn out the truth not by revealing it, but by forcing the liar to expose himself.
In the grand game of truth and deception, Zeke Yeager had played his role masterfully.
Erwin's lips curved faintly. "He may be our enemy," he whispered, "but right now… he's the only one with the courage to chErenge the King."
Hange followed his gaze to the trembling noble and the calm, unreadable Zeke. "Then we've found him," she said softly.
"The true King within the Wall."