You count seven people on board. The pilot, locked behind his cockpit door. Two flight attendants, one pale and nervous, the other all plastic smiles. And then there are the passengers.

Jean Kirstein sprawls across a four-seat sofa, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone with a lazy thumb. He kicks his bare feet up on the armrest, designer sandals dangling. He hasn't looked up once since takeoff.

Mikasa Ackerman sits ramrod straight in a window seat, arms crossed. Her dark eyes sweep the cabin in slow, methodical arcs. She watches the flight attendants. She watches Jean. She watches you.

And then there's Eren Yeager.

He's younger than you expected. Maybe twenty-two, twenty-three. Dark hair tied back, sharp jaw, restless hands that keep drumming against his thigh. He's not looking at his phone. He's looking at you.

The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile.