Chapter 7. A Kiss
July 12, 2025 at 3:51 PM
Levi returned to his tiny apartment just before dawn. He had no desire to toss and turn in bed again, so he wandered through the city, keeping to the shadows.
Thoughts of Mikasa refused to leave his mind.
He had managed to sneak into that concert disguised as some mid-level official. Risky business—but luck had always been on his side. All these rich folks were hardly memorable anyway. They all looked the same. Levi had dressed appropriately, blending into the crowd, flashed a forged ticket at the inspectors, and slipped inside before anyone had the chance to look too closely.
Everything went smoothly. He positioned himself far from the main guests, out of the spotlight, and watched the stage as she appeared.
Bathed in the brilliant glow of a hundred candles, sparkling in her beaded gown, Mikasa stood tall and magnificent. Her pale, delicate skin seemed to radiate from within, her eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation.
She belonged here, in all this glitter and luxury—and yet she didn’t.
For a moment, Levi felt the pull to become part of this world. After all, what difference did it make where the money came from? In the end, both his and their wealth was paid for in someone else's blood. At least Levi was honest about it. If only he could climb to their level, claiming Mikasa would be child's play. Though… why hadn’t she taken a powerful patron for herself? That, Levi couldn’t quite understand. Would he manage to get close to this cold beauty?
He was almost certain he would. He wouldn’t be an Ackerman if he backed down so easily in the face of a challenge.
His thoughts were consumed by her. The smooth curves of her body, the sweet, rich timbre of her voice. The faint aroma of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the lightness of her touch.
She wasn’t just another toy for the wealthy. She’d climbed high because she refused to be broken.
What pleased Levi most was that she had trusted him again. She had accepted his help. That was a good sign. Now, he knew where she lived. And though he had no intention of abusing that knowledge, he could find her whenever he wanted.
The thought of her upcoming performance, where he would see her again, warmed him from the inside.
Levi collapsed into bed, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep, letting all other problems slip away. The serum, the mafia troubles, the money—they all seemed empty and pointless whenever his mind turned to her.
Of course, he wanted her. How could he not? She was breathtaking — her hips, her slender waist, her full breasts shimmering under the beadwork. But she wouldn’t be so easily won.
Levi could have visited one of the pretty girls in the Underground—there were plenty of beautiful, skilled, healthy ones. He never minded paying for it. But there was no spark there. Levi understood that none of it was real. Maybe some of the girls loved him, but not in any way that mattered. In a brothel, nobody cares if you’re a good lover. Pay, be decent, and you’ll be treated kindly. Levi was good at that. He liked to believe that some of them appreciated him for more than his money—but he knew better.
With Mikasa, it was different.
Yes, of course, he wanted her—but she wasn’t an easy prize. Mikasa was guarded, careful, cold. He wanted to pursue her, to court her. The thought of sex came only after. What he really wanted... was to know her.
It was unfamiliar territory for Levi—something from a distant past. He was used to buying love, not chasing it. The game of courting had long bored him. If a girl didn’t want to go to bed with him, fine. He’d simply find someone else. But Mikasa had pushed everyone else to the sidelines.
His rising excitement faded as reality forced its way back in.
Kenny barged into his home unexpectedly, before the city clocks had even struck five.
The fragile door creaked pitifully and slammed into the stone wall behind it.
Levi shot up in bed, ready for a fight, but the heavy, drunken figure swaying in the doorway was only his uncle. Apparently, he’d had quite a night and barely managed to stumble home.
Levi pulled him inside, sat him on a chair, poured a glass of water, and turned to head back to bed—but in the dim light, Kenny began to mutter, forcing Levi to return. But it wasn’t drunken nonsense.
"We have to find that serum, Levi. They’ll skin me alive if we don’t," Kenny rasped, slumped like a sack in the chair. "It’s vanished. Like it never existed. Stashed away in some pocket—damn it all..."
Levi exhaled heavily. How many times would they have to talk about that cursed serum? He knew it was important. He’d promised to find it. Still, something was off with Kenny, and Levi couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
The man reeked of cheap liquor and cigarettes. Levi wrinkled his nose, helped him pull off his boots, and dragged him over to the only armchair in the house—at least it was more comfortable than the hard wooden chair.
"We’ll find your damn serum, Kenny. Sleep it off," Levi said, climbing back into bed. He only wanted to think of Mikasa. Of when he’d see her again.
She was perfect in every way—her figure, her voice, her face, her spirit. Levi could list her virtues until he ran out of breath, but he knew it: he was losing his mind. He needed to focus on work, on earning money, on staying alive—not on women. Sometimes it helped to kill time, but not like this. Not to the point of resenting Kenny for interrupting his thoughts.
The serum. That was what mattered. And they would find it.
Kenny continued his muttering, but Levi tuned him out. The man was talking to himself now, lost in drunken ramblings.
Had they done it Levi’s way from the start, the serum would already be in their hands. The fact that some setup had cost them everything infuriated him. Even Kenny irritated him now, stumbling into his home with these drunken speeches that Levi could barely stomach.
Sleep pulled at him heavily. A few hours ago, he hadn’t felt the exhaustion, but now it was overwhelming. If Kenny kept rambling like this, Levi would wake with a splitting headache.
Kenny was hiding something. Levi could feel it. He had never seen his uncle this worked up over mafia business. Usually, if a deal fell through, they moved on to the next one. They both knew full well they were just a gang of bandits—dangerous and slippery, yes, but rats living off the scraps nonetheless.
Levi had a nose for strange things—and this whole mess was beginning to stink.
But he didn’t want to think about it anymore. What choice did he have? He would still have to chase that damned elixir if the higher-ups demanded it. And for some reason, Kenny was more rattled than usual.
The monotone murmur of Kenny’s voice lulled Levi’s tired mind. His thoughts grew tangled, twisting into one another like strange, flickering shapes. He drifted slowly into sleep.
Mikasa stepped closer. Her glittering dress shimmered in the dim light. Soft lips moved toward his—tender, inviting—and Levi melted into the feeling, running his hands over her yielding body—but in his grasp, there was nothing. The void thickened. A massive syringe, filled with milky blue liquid, appeared in his palm. Levi stared at the cold steel of the needle, but it twisted and writhed like a serpent. A venomous black snake coiled around his wrist and bit down hard. Poison shot into his blood.
Levi jerked awake, struggling to separate dream from reality. The house was empty. The chair bore only the faint imprint of Kenny’s body. His uncle was gone.
Levi rose slowly from bed, his head throbbing as though something small and fast was trapped inside, beating at the walls of his skull. He staggered to the shower, dousing himself with cold water to clear his thoughts.
His first impulse was to find Kenny, to pry whatever information his uncle had gathered while out drinking. But Levi dismissed that idea immediately. Kenny was likely sleeping it off somewhere, still smarting from whatever scolding the boss had handed down. He would talk when he was ready. Levi had learned not to stick his nose where it wasn’t wanted.
He had once tried, in his youth, to be something more. But experience had taught him: he was a tool. A sharp blade in the mafia’s hand. Nothing more was required of him.
The less you know, the better you sleep, Levi reminded himself. And strangely, that made it easier. It irritated him to never know the full picture, but on the other hand—it kept him out of trouble.
And so it would be now.
With nothing else to do, and no orders to carry out, the day was his to waste. Levi crawled out of his den and headed to the bar—to meet with Erd.
The eternal fog of cigarette smoke did little to ease the pressure in his skull. The smell of cheap tobacco pressed into his temples, and the beer tasted like bitter piss.
"Have you no shame, serving this to friends?" Levi snorted, setting down the mug of piss-yellow beer.
"You get what I got. Be grateful it’s not horse piss," Erd shot back, grinning.
Levi smiled faintly. At least this scoundrel was honest. And, more importantly, he’d already told Levi where he could see Mikasa again.
A sweet, familiar excitement stirred in his chest. That forgotten, trembling thrill. His mood brightened.
⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻
Levi kept his promise. He truly started attending her concerts. Always careful—careful enough to avoid the police, careful not to be noticed, careful not to draw attention that might cost him his freedom. He blended into the crowd, lurking in the shadows of grand buildings, slipping inside on stolen invitations, pilfered from clueless rich men. And every single time—he made sure Mikasa saw him. She was the only one who had to notice. He wanted her to see him. And she did. Her eyes would pause on his face for a brief, fleeting second. A moment so short it could have been a trick of the light — but to Levi, it felt like an eternity. In those tiny fragments of time, it seemed she was singing for him alone. Her grey eyes, dark as storm clouds, flashed like distant lightning, and every time her gaze met his, Levi’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to believe she looked at no one else like that. That this was real—not just part of her act, not just the practiced gaze meant to make wealthy men sigh and ache, to buy tickets and flood the local flower shops. He wanted to clear the entire hall, drive out every man who dared look at her, every man she might glance at—just to have her, for a moment, be his and his alone. But the concert played on. Levi refused to ruin her reputation for the sake of his selfish desires. And since when had he started caring about being unselfish? Mikasa’s large, beautiful eyes, her graceful figure swaying to the music, her bright, clear voice—it was intoxicating. Even after the hardest days, she gave him strength. And after each performance, she never failed to notice him. He would step out of the shadows—always with a bouquet. And every time, she would smile. Subtly. Reserved. But she smiled at him. To Levi, that was a good sign. There were never any other bouquets in her hands. She always accepted his.⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻
Once again, Mikasa strolled leisurely down the alley, having just politely dealt with all the gentlemen queued outside her dressing room. Softly, yet firmly, she declined their advances, refused expensive gifts, and turned down rides home in lavish carriages. This kind of attention no longer flattered her. She knew all too well what lay behind these seemingly innocent offers. Accept one little favour, and soon they would propose more: a stroll through the city, a glittering necklace, a private dinner, intimate conversations, exclusive performances for select, powerful men… Mikasa had seen where that road led. She wasn’t overly worried about her own safety—she'd performed not only on the finest stages of Stohess but in its vilest dens. Trouble had been kind enough to pass her by, and even if it hadn’t, she could handle herself. But rumours — those were impossible to outrun. Her untouchable image had become part of her act. Everyone wanted to be the first to claim her—that’s why Mikasa said no to everyone. Let them look, whisper, drool—as long as they kept coming, kept paying to hear her sing. That was her livelihood now. It no longer disgusted her. Levi, however, felt like he had come from another world. Which, in a way, he had. But in the end, Levi was still a man like the rest of them. Even the most esteemed men’s principles crumbled before their desires. Yet Levi was different. Or perhaps simply more cunning. Mikasa didn't dwell on it, trusting fate as recklessly as ever. And for now, luck remained on her side. His attention pleased her, even if she couldn’t explain why. The wealthiest, most powerful men of Stohess longed to fall at her feet, yet it was this short Ackerman—a criminal, a killer, a thief and mafia pawn—who earned her favour. But Levi was unlike the rich suitors. He risked himself just to see her, to listen to her sing. At first, Mikasa told herself not to hope—surely Levi’s intentions couldn’t be honest. But concert after concert passed, and Levi did nothing improper—no crude gestures, no vulgar remarks, not even the sleazy innuendos she’d braced herself for. Just harmless teasing, nothing more. And she liked it. Were there other women with whom Levi satisfied his more base desires? Mikasa shook her head. What did it matter? As if she truly wanted to take their place. Yet her heart betrayed her—quickening every time she caught sight of him among her audience. She hadn’t admitted it at first, but little by little, she began to long for his closeness. Levi was handsome, attentive, careful. He never crossed the line. He risked himself just for a fleeting meeting, and after their very rocky introduction, he never once made a single improper demand. And with him... it was easy. Fun. Comfortable. He would walk her home. Not all the way, of course—Mikasa never let him get too close to her actual door. Though Levi already knew where she lived—she herself had shown him. Still, he never used that knowledge to his advantage, and she was grateful for that. In the beginning, she'd worried that he knew where she lived, but over time, she relaxed. If Levi had wanted to harm her, he’d had a hundred chances. They had been alone many times. Yet he never pushed for more than she was ready to give. He was polite, cautious, almost... sweet. Mikasa hadn’t even realised how much she was starting to reach for him. When he walked her home, he often gave her those searching glances—like he was waiting, expecting something more. Testing the waters. And Mikasa wasn’t so naïve as to not understand. Levi was waiting for a signal. And she wasn’t brave enough to give it. They walked unhurriedly under the dim glow of streetlamps. Her feet ached from the heels, goosebumps crawled over her skin in the cool night air. She should have hurried home—Eren was waiting for her tonight—but she simply couldn’t bring herself to quicken her pace. Not when being near Levi felt so... good. Their conversations were trivial, almost meaningless—Mikasa barely listened, hearing only the steady beat of her own heart in her chest. Levi wasn’t a man of many words—and now his voice melted into the summer night air. It was strange, feeling this desired. She had plenty of admirers—rich, beautiful, powerful men. They all wanted the same thing, and never had anything to say. The moment Mikasa stopped talking, they quickly lost interest, waiting for the next opportunity to approach her again. Levi couldn’t possibly be different. And yet, since the day he first appeared with that stunning bouquet of calla lilies, he had not once betrayed his intentions. The lantern light dimmed as they reached the narrow alley where Mikasa always said goodbye. Even though Levi knew where she lived, she couldn’t risk being seen arriving with him. Even the slightest whisper could ignite scandal—and she was tired of whispered scandal. Standing close to home, her nerves prickled with fresh intensity. What was she doing here, with Levi, while Eren waited for her? Shame surged—but Mikasa crushed it. She just wanted to be near someone who didn’t hide how much they wanted her. Someone whose desire burned openly, wrapping her in its warmth. They stopped. Mikasa looked at Levi one last time, ready to say goodnight—but he stepped closer. The air shifted. Her cheeks flushed; her breath caught. His cologne lingered between them as his blue eyes flashed, reaching for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, heart hammering in her chest. A breathless second stretched between them. "We’ll see each other again," Levi murmured, drawing back. The warmth disappeared, along with the closeness of his body. Mikasa’s eyes flew open, her face twisting in frustration. What was she expecting? Of course, she knew. He’d leaned in as if to kiss her! She forced herself to stay composed, but Levi’s sly grin made her bristle. "Something you wanted?" he teased. "No. Of course not." Mikasa narrowed her eyes, her words sharp as a blade. She was furious at herself for being so disappointed. Had she really wanted him to kiss her just now? "I should go," she finally managed, her voice straining to sound calm. It didn’t work. She spun away sharply, stepping toward home — but Levi’s strong hand caught her wrist, halting her mid-step, forcing her to face him again, locking eyes with those mischievous, knowing blues. Anger boiled inside her—she opened her mouth, ready to demand he let go — But she never got the chance. His warm lips pressed against hers. His breath scorched her skin. His arms slipped around her waist, pulling her close, and even through layers of fabric she could feel the strength of his body. The bouquet nearly slipped from her hands. A flash of heat engulfed her. She was playing with fire. And she liked it. The alley vanished; for one dizzying instant, the entire world collapsed into nothing but the searing sensation of his lips on hers. Mikasa wanted this. She didn’t understand it — didn’t want to understand—but all this time, she had longed for him to finally kiss her. The darkness of the alley cloaked them from prying eyes; every thought flew from her head. Levi was impossibly close. Hesitantly, Mikasa responded to the kiss. Just for a moment. While his gentle touch, the softness of his lips, and his hands slipping lower—things she had never known—ignited a burning heat inside her. While she let herself surrender, just for that breathless instant. Until suddenly, her mind caught up. What was she doing? What was she allowing to happen? Something clicked inside her. She pushed him back with a fluttering motion, stumbling a step away, heart hammering wildly in her chest. Shame surged hot through her skin. No—she couldn’t simply cast aside all the rules she had built her life upon. Levi was not so simple. And as much as she wanted to believe him, he was still a criminal, a thief, a killer. His gentle courtship clouded her mind, but the reality was harsh. He had nearly cost her her life once, using her as a shield to save his own skin. And what if the police saw them now, not some random passerby? And what about Eren? How could she ever look him in the eye again? How had she allowed Levi to steal her first kiss—something so precious, so intimate—something she had sworn she would never give lightly? A storm of emotions tore through her: the warmth of wanting to remain in his arms, the panic of pulling away, the desperate desire to vanish into mystery again. But what was done could not be undone. Her breath caught, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She shouldn't have done this. Shouldn't have let Levi kiss her. Not now. Not like this. Her gaze locked onto Levi’s icy blue eyes. He stood still, waiting, saying nothing—not daring to move or take advantage. Again, he forced her to think better of him than she should. Mikasa took another step back, pulling herself from his grasp as the tears welled in her eyes—damn these useless, ill-timed tears. She simply hadn’t expected this. Not tonight. "Wait—" Levi said softly, his face shifting, his usual cocky expression dissolving into something far more serious, almost worried. He stepped forward, reaching for Mikasa—but then footsteps sounded from behind. A cold spike of fear gripped her. She froze. Then a voice cut through the heavy air: "Mikasa?" Her breath hitched. She turned slowly toward the familiar voice, her insides tightening into a spring ready to snap. The bouquet trembled in her hands. Eren. He approached, and Mikasa silently prayed that he would notice nothing. The shame was unbearable. "Why are you coming back so late again? We agreed, didn’t we?" Mikasa lowered her gaze, guilt burning in her chest. She should have hurried home—had she done so, none of this would’ve happened. No stolen kiss, no dizzying emotions, no crushing anxiety. Everything could have stayed as it was. Panic struck as her mind suddenly flashed to Levi—if Eren turned now, he would see him. She spun toward the darkness, dread filling her—but Levi was gone.⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻
At home, an unpleasant conversation was already waiting for her. Eren stood, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the bouquet Mikasa had carefully placed in a vase. The flowers were slightly disheveled, but still beautiful. Mikasa had never really thought about how expensive the bouquets left in her dressing room were. But she never felt like bringing them home. They were too large, too fragrant, too much—and there wasn’t much room for them in their modest home anyway. But the flowers from Levi—she always brought them back. And she never resisted. Levi never left his bouquets lying around. He always handed them to her himself, as if sensing that otherwise they would simply be left behind. She wanted to admire them in the mornings, breathe in their delicate scent, and—despite herself—think of those piercing blue eyes. Now, though, the sight of the bouquet stirred a different unease. But she couldn’t just throw them out—as if by doing so, she’d give something away to Eren. He would sense it. "You never brought flowers from your admirers before," Eren finally said. His voice was tight, sharp with irritation—one she recognised too well. No matter what she said now, he would be displeased. She had fallen in his eyes again. And the shame stung sharper than ever. Mikasa had kissed Levi on the street. No confessions, no promises, no careful declarations—just like that. And then walked away. Even for her, it was too much. Would she see him again? It wasn’t something she should be thinking about. Why should she care? Without Levi, her life would be simpler. Less complicated. And perhaps a little emptier. Eren’s eyes stayed locked on the flowers. Mikasa truly never brought bouquets home. She never wanted to drag those useless trophies back here. But Levi’s flowers… they were something else, even if not as lush or expensive as others. "What should I do—throw them all away every time?" she parried, forcing a light smile to cover the bitterness inside. She looked at Eren and wished, desperately, that he would look at her the way Levi did. With adoration. That he would drop everything and come to her concerts. That he would surprise her with a kiss like that. And what if… She had never dared face her feelings before. Always burying them deep, waiting for Eren to understand. But maybe after everything, after all his battles and responsibilities, he simply couldn’t see. Without thinking, Mikasa stepped forward. She pressed herself to him like she used to in childhood. Lifted her face to his. Closed her eyes, hoping his touch—warm, familiar, safe… No. Not enough. His kiss would erase the memory of another's lips. But Eren suddenly pulled away. Not harshly, but firmly. "I'm already on edge," he said, voice low, avoiding her gaze. "I don’t want to worry about where you are and what you’re doing. Don’t make me search the city for you again." The irritation faded into something closer to worry—but it only stung more. Mikasa lowered her eyes, stepping back, letting his hands fall away. He had pushed her aside. Again. She could barely hold back the tears burning behind her eyes. "The serum is almost ours," Eren said after a pause, pacing the room, his voice tight, breath heavy. "I need to stay focused right now. Please… just don’t give me extra reasons to worry." Mikasa noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. Was it possible he cared more than he showed? Did he deliberately push her away? She clenched her fists, frustration rising. Why was she still hoping? Why was she ruining what little was left between them? Why had she pushed away Levi—the man who risked himself just for a moment by her side? She was tired of making excuses for Eren. If he truly cared, truly wanted to protect her, he would have found a way to be closer. She didn’t need much. One look. One kiss. And she would be his. But he didn’t need her—and she kept clinging to fantasies, losing something important along the way. While Eren talked of serums and wars, Mikasa had already been drawn in by a criminal. And now, she had just destroyed the only honest connection she had—by pushing Levi away. Would he come back? Or had he now understood he would never get anything from her—and simply walked away? Mikasa didn’t want that. Anger boiling inside, she stormed up the stairs, her cheeks burning with shame. No. She hadn’t wanted to reject him—she had simply been scared by how much she liked it.
