Chapter 255
BARGAINING
IAM went around playing with the flowers, brushing his fingertips over their delicate petals, forgetting the building in the distance entirely—seeing it as nothing more than a meaningless distraction.
He didn't think about how long he'd been walking or how far he'd gone; the distance meant nothing now.
Time slipped away without warning. Minutes, hours—he couldn't tell anymore. The air felt softer, warmer, almost like it was trying to lull him to sleep.
The flowers blurred together into smears of color as his vision softened.
Eventually, his body began to sway, rocking gently back and forth on unsteady feet. A deep drowsiness crept over him, it was thick and consuming. His eyelids grew heavy.
His mind whispered softly—just close your eyes, it's fine… just for a while.
He turned his head slowly, scanning the endless field.
Not far from where IAM stood, a patch of flowers stood out from the rest—so vivid and perfect it seemed almost unreal. The petals shimmered faintly, as though kissed by dew that never dried, catching the sunlight and scattering it into soft hues of gold and lavender.
Each bloom was larger than his hand, their edges curved delicately inward, forming elegant spirals that seemed to draw the eye deeper and deeper toward the center. The air around them shimmered slightly, dense with a perfume so sweet and pure that breathing it in felt like tasting honey and spring rain all at once.
The stems swayed gently even though there was no wind, their movements synchronized as if responding to some unheard rhythm. The ground beneath them looked softer, richer—like a bed carefully prepared for sleep. A strange sense of calm radiated from the spot, warm and beckoning, almost whispering to him: Rest here.
IAM's tired eyes lingered on the patch for a long moment, his body instinctively drawn toward it. The exhaustion in his limbs seemed to melt away the more he looked, replaced by an overwhelming desire to simply lie down among those perfect blooms and forget everything else.
He began to stumble in that direction like a man lost in a dream, his steps were uneven, with his body swaying as though pulled by invisible hands. There was just exhaustion guiding him forward, he was drunk not on wine, but on sleep.
When he finally reached the patch, his knees gave out beneath him, and he collapsed into the flowers.
They caught him like a living cushion—soft beyond reason, their petals cool and silky against his skin. The texture felt impossibly smooth, each bloom yielding just enough to cradle his weight without breaking.
A faint warmth pulsed beneath the cool and through them, like the earth itself was breathing beneath him, humming a low lullaby meant only for him. The scent was rich and comforting—sweet but not overwhelming, it sank into his lungs and made the world feel like a dream.
A deep, involuntary sound escaped his throat—a soft, drawn-out groan of pure satisfaction. It slipped past his lips before he could stop it. For a moment, he didn't care where he was or why. The flowers felt too good, too right.
This was it. This was all he had been waiting for.
IAM had been waiting for a moment like this—a moment of pure, unbroken respite. A place where the world didn't demand anything of him. Where he didn't have to worry. Where he didn't have to feel pain. Where the weight pressing on his chest, the endless ache in his mind, could finally fade into silence.
He didn't have to fight anymore. He didn't have to think.
All he had to do… was rest.
IAM's eyes began to stoop, the world softening at the edges. It was over now—at least, that was what his body was telling him. The feeling that staying in one place might be dangerous had long since faded from his mind. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to stop.
To give up on everything—just for a bit of rest.
But just as his eyelids began to close, a strange pull rippled through him. It was faint at first, like a whisper brushing the edge of his thoughts, then it grew—burning, insistent.
That building.
He hadn't noticed before, but no matter how far he wandered, it was always there—not distant, not close—just lingering, waiting. The sight of it stirred something deep within him, something that fought against the haze of exhaustion clouding his mind. It was as if a part of him refused to let go.
He felt his head tilt up on its own, his gaze meeting the vast, impossibly blue sky above.
There it was again—always something to stop him from surrendering completely.
Why… why couldn't everything just leave him in peace? Why couldn't the world, existence itself, just let him go?
Had he not suffered enough?
Even though he couldn't remember what exactly he had endured, he felt it—down in the marrow of his bones, in the pain that clung to his chest with every faint breath. There was a history of hurt etched into him, the scars were written into the soul, even if his mind had forgotten the story.
Hadn't he done everything he could?
He had fought, hadn't he? He had clawed his way through every darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. He had tried to keep moving, to keep hoping, even when hope had long turned to ash. What more did the world want from him?
He couldn't have fought harder. He couldn't have screamed louder. He couldn't have begged more desperately for it all to stop.
And yet… here he was. Still being pulled forward, still being asked to rise, to push, to endure.
It felt cruel. Cruel that peace was dangled before him only to be snatched away. Cruel that every time he tried to rest, some invisible hand forced him back to his feet.
He just wanted to stop.
To sink into the flowers and disappear. To let the wind carry his name away. To finally let go without being dragged back by the ghost of responsibility—by the whisper that said he still had something left to do.
Why couldn't the universe understand that he was tired? That he wasn't just weak—he was tired.
Tired of asking himself what if?
What if he was stronger?
What if he was smarter?
What if he was... Just not IAM?
What if he was someone else entirely—someone capable, someone who could actually change things? The thoughts came like waves, crashing over him again and again, each one heavier than the last. Was he simply cursed? Cursed to live a life of endless struggle, of chasing meaning that always slipped just beyond his grasp? To fight battles no one else could see?
No.
He refused. He couldn't. He didn't want to fight anymore, he didn't even want to try anymore. He just wanted the noise to stop—the questions, the pain, the memories that hurt even when he couldn't fully recall them.
Leave him. Let him fade away, let him rest. He had done enough. He had been enough.
As he sank deeper into the bed of flowers, IAM didn't notice how the petals began to shift and curl around him. Their stems coiled softly, lovingly, weaving through his skin like gentle vines. The field itself seemed to cradle him, pulling him down inch by inch, welcoming him into its quiet, eternal embrace.
"Yes… I give up."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"No… I don't want to know… I don't want to…" His words cracked, fading into a broken murmur. "I… I…"
The last syllable hung in the air, unfinished.
IAM's eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, caught one final glimpse of the sky above—the vast, endless blue that had seemed so peaceful just moments ago. Slowly, it began to fade from view, swallowed by the earth as the flowers tightened their hold.
He didn't struggle. He only watched as the blue melted away, replaced by the dark, damp embrace of soil pressing gently against his face.
Until there was nothing left to see.