Levi eventually crawled to the bedding hidden behind a wall of boxes, wrapped up in his trench coat for extra warmth, his knife under his pillow, and using his backpack to prop up his sprained ankle for some relief to the swelling. Despite physical pain and a million worries racing in his mind, he somehow managed to drift off.
It was not a deep sleep, though, so when he heard a click at the window, his eyes immediately opened wide. He stared into the darkness, listening hard. The rain had slowed, and the noisy torrent from earlier was now a peaceful autumn drizzle, barely a sound on the roof. In that quietness, he heard a slow, squeaking sound of rusty metal hinges, followed by cold air rushing in.
Someone was opening the window.
Although he could not see the window from his hiding place behind towering crates and boxes, Levi distinctly heard the noises. The intruder left the window open and crept over the floorboards. They must be planning for a quick escape. Levi recognized skill in the silent steps, testing out the ground before placing weight down to avoid squeaking boards.
Levi slowly reached under his pillow and slid his knife out of its sheath. He sneered at his ankle—what a perfectly shitty time to be injured—so he opted not to walk. Instead, he crawled on his hands and knees. He climbed over the bedding and glanced around the corner of the boxes. His eyes narrowed as he saw a person dressed all in black, gliding through the spacious attic like a silent shadow.
A thief, or an assassin?
The intruder pointed at the doors cut into the floor, counting them to make sure he had the right room, and stopped at Eren's hatch. At this point, Levi slipped out of his hiding spot. Like a cat stalking an unsuspecting prey, he crawled across the attic. After weeks living up there, Levi knew which spots on the floor were safe and which parts squeaked. He moved with perfect stealth, kept to the shadows, and watched with growing anger.
Was this the same person who poisoned Eren, here to finish the job?
He watched as the intruder pulled out a gun, knelt by Eren's hatch, and slowly began to open the door in the floor. Pure rage surged through Levi. For a moment, pain was forgotten. He rose from the shadows like a demon, his fingers tightened around his knife, and like a cheetah, he pounced on the man, knife aimed to cut his throat.
Just before Levi could get the blade to the skin, the intruder dropped his gun, grabbed Levi, and threw him over his shoulder with surprising speed. Levi hit the ground with a bang that reverberated through the attic.
"Merde!" the man whispered, realizing he had made a fatal mistake. Everyone in the rooms below would hear that hit.
Levi cursed as the throw made him land on the hip he had bruised just days earlier, when a would-be thief shoved him into the ledge of a bridge. He got up, struggling to balance on one foot, while his back was now one massive throb of pain. Whoever this was, he was immensely strong, with impressive skill and training. He was dressed head to toe in black, wearing a mask with a single slit for the eyes, showing pale skin. His throw had been powerful and swift. This was no average burglar. This was definitely an assassin.
The man threw the hatch door open and began to slide into the room below.
No! Eren!
Levi completely ignored pain and fatigue. He practically flew at the man, slamming him backward and away from the opened hatch. The intruder again managed to use Levi's momentum against him, flipping him until he crashed into a stack of boxes that fell down onto them both.
Levi swirled out of a partially crushed crate. His knife was up, but in the moonlight he saw the man reaching for his dropped gun.
Levi leaped forward, aimed the knife to the man's gun arm, and stabbed hard. The knife went straight through the forearm, right between bones and muscle, and Levi felt the tip of the blade impale into the wood below. The attacker screamed in agony as his arm was nailed to the floor.
Levi leaned on top of the man and sneered, "T'es qui, enfoiré?" Who are you, bastard?
Just then, Levi heard someone burst into Eren's room shouting in German. Levi ripped the blade out, realizing he might have to fight Germans as well now. The intruder was instantly up on his feet. He bolted through the attic, hopped out the window, and vanished into the night.
Levi grabbed the dropped gun and tried to run after him; however, he was still limping hard on his ankle. Through the opened hatch, he saw two shadowy figures below. Fingers gripped the sides, about to pull themselves up. Levi realized he could stay here no longer.
He hobbled as fast as he could toward the window just as a head peered over the top of the hatch and someone shouted "Halt!" He leaned over to grab his bag, and a gunshot went off behind him. Levi cursed, turned, and fired his newly acquired gun, not sure who was there and not really caring at this point. He heard a man shout in pain and fall down into the room below. Levi took that opportunity to dive through the window.
He slid down the wet roof, scrambling to stop himself as he tumbled toward the ledge. His nails dug into the shingles, and with blinding pain, he forced his legs out to slow himself down. His heels ripped as they scraped against the roofing. One leg slipped over the edge, hanging out in empty space, but he managed to stop himself from falling off and plunging four stories.
"Shit, that hurt," he hissed, moving around so he could crawl away from the edge.
He scrambled up, but with his feet torn up, one leg bleeding, and the other swollen and hot, he had to crawl. Down the rooftop, he saw the intruder racing away.
"Bâtard!" he sneered, but he knew there was no way he could give chase, not with his injuries.
Unsteadily, he clambered up on his knees and slipped around one of the hotel's chimneys just moments before someone leaned out the window. Two men were shouting in German.
"Geh da raus und nach dem Eindringling suchen." Go out there and search for the intruder.
"Bist du verrückt? Es regnet, und ich hab Höhenangst." Are you crazy? I'm afraid of heights.
"Nun, ich wurde angeschossen. Ich kann nicht durch das Fenster rausklettern." Well, I was shot. I can't climb through the window.
Levi stayed hidden behind the chimney, both the knife and gun ready, trying to shallow his breath. His ears stayed sharp, but in the end the Germans did not search the roof. After arguing, they agreed on one thing: "Wir rufen die Polizei." We'll call the police. Then they went back inside.
Levi stayed where he was for a while, clutching his bag to his chest. As adrenaline faded, the full agony of his legs hit him. His feet were now bleeding from scrapes. The one he had cut earlier had blood soaking through the fabric. He pulled up his trouser leg and saw the skin around his sprained ankle was swollen taut and red with inflammation. He silently cursed. Of all the bad luck!
As he waited to figure out what was going on, he glanced around the roof. At least the storm had faded to a light misting that smeared a trail of dark, shiny drops of blood from the attacker. While part of him wanted to track the blood and find out who would threaten Eren's life, he knew his legs were not up for that. Even on a good day, getting up onto the roof was a challenge. With both legs injured, it would not be possible. He reluctantly just sat there.
At least Eren was alive. Levi realized with some sense of vindication, his seemingly-foolish decision to stick by Eren had probably saved his life.
After he heard nothing for a long time, he crawled back over to the window and peaked inside. He saw men with flashlights searching, tearing apart every box. He quickly moved back away. He managed to crawl further down the rooftop, struggling not to slip. Police would come out, see the blood, and follow it, so he headed the opposite way. He again went around a chimney, angling himself so he would not easily be visible, but he knew any thorough search would lead to a quick discovery.
He closed his eyes. He could be caught and arrested without ever knowing if Eren was okay. Worse, he would be executed on accusations of poisoning Eren, and he could not say otherwise without getting Eren himself into trouble.
He leaned his head back and looked up at the tickling mist. At least Eren would have one good memory of him. That was worth it.
No regrets.
He set his bag down beside him, getting comfortable as he waited for the inevitable.
Then he heard it: sirens below, police cars pulling up, urgent shouts.
This was it. He kept his knife beside him and held the gun ready, prepared to go down fighting. He rested his forehead on the cool metal of the barrel and said a small prayer that maybe—just maybe—he might survive this.
He heard voices again, including people speaking German but with distinct French accents. Local police. Finally, he heard someone daring to climb out. The man slipped on the wet tiles, just as he had.
"Die Blutspur führt nach Norden." The trail of blood leads north.
Levi flattened himself, trying to stay in the shadows. So far, he heard only one person up there. Slowly, he peeked around the edge of the chimney. It was a police officer, and he was following the smeared trail of bloody drops.
"Er kletterte durch die Bäume." He climbed down through the trees.
"Geh wieder rein. Ein kleiner Ausrutscher und du bist tot." Get back inside. One small slip and you're dead.
The officer turned back around, but sure enough, he lost his balance on the steep roof and slid. He crawled off the roof on his hands and knees.
Levi shook his head. Clumsy!
He waited, but minutes passed without anyone else coming out onto the roof. They obviously figured whoever had broken in had run away, and with the dangerously steep, wet roof, they were not going to risk the lives of police officers to search for someone who had already fled the scene.
Maybe he had a little bit of Eren's Devil's Luck after all.
Just as he thought that, it was like the heavens opened up, and all at once the rain poured in torrents.
"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!" he groaned.
He wrapped his jacket and both arms around the bag and hunched over, hoping to keep his book from getting wet. He stuck his swollen ankle out, hoping that maybe the near-freezing rain would help take down the swelling. That was the only good thing about this storm.
He glared out into the silvery streams of rain, a gun in one hand, a knife in the other, wondering if he would live to see dawn.