Chapter 90
Benefits
Four days had passed.
The sunlight filtered softly through the high windows of Haven Hospital's main wing, painting the spotless marble floors with pale gold. Nurses moved briskly through the halls, each accompanied by their own floating tablets and responsibilities. But Maye walked a little differently—her steps lighter than usual, her lips curled into the smallest, most content smile.
Her long brown hair was tied up neatly, her nurse's cap perched firmly atop her head. Her pink-and-white uniform was pressed clean, and she pushed a small rolling tray before her, the wheels clicking softly against the floor. The tray carried a balanced meal—porridge, warm bread, fruit, and a drink—as well as a few carefully organized packets of medicine. Everything was secured tightly. After all, the patient she was visiting had become... more cooperative.
After the shaky first few days, something in IAM had shifted. He was still quiet, still withdrawn, but no longer a brick. He was finally eating his meals. He even looked at her now. Really looked. It wasn't much, but it was enough to brighten her mood.
She made her way through the hallway, nodding politely at the few other nurses and patients she passed—each patient accompanied, as per protocol, by a personal nurse or medical assistant.
Then she saw her friend—another nurse who had started around the same time as her. They paused near an intersection, exchanging warm smiles and short conversation.
"I heard you're currently taking care of the sole survivor of the Hold," her friend said in a lowered voice, trying to appear casual.
"Mmhmm." Maye gave a nod, maintaining her gentle smile.
"I heard he's... a bit difficult to handle."
Maye snorted softly. "Eh, I can handle it. That's why I got the job. Not you."
"Oh, shut up."
"Love you too," Maye replied, smirking as she walked away. She didn't want to indulge in gossip, not about IAM. Not after what he'd been through. She could see how easily people misunderstood patients like him.
She finally reached the familiar door at the far end of the hallway. The male guard stood watch outside. He gave her a respectful nod and opened the door for her. She pushed the tray in, thanking him with a soft smile.
Inside, the room was quiet save for the hum of faint machinery. The air smelled clean, sterilized, like everything in this hospital did. The walls were decorated with the tasteful and abstract paintings, and a soft breeze came through the small vents above. The room was more like a wealthy guest's private suite than a medical facility. And just inside the door stood the female guard, who nodded in greeting.
But Maye's smile faded almost instantly as she took in the sight before her.
"IAM," she said, exasperation already in her voice. "How many times do I have to say it—you should be resting!"
IAM, currently shirtless, was in the middle of the room, his caramel-toned body gleaming with sweat, muscles tense as he performed slow, deliberate push-ups. His form was focused, controlled—each movement almost meditative.
He didn't stop.
"She said it was okay," he muttered quietly.
Maye turned to the guard with a raised brow.
The female guard immediately shook her head, mouthing a silent "nope."
Maye sighed, dragging her hand down her face. "Can you please go have a shower before you break something important?"
IAM paused. He looked at her, then stood up silently. His body was still weak, still clearly recovering, but there was a stubborn resolve behind his movements.
She pressed a hidden button on one of the paintings, causing a section of the wall beside it to slide open, revealing a private bathroom—fitted with a shower, toilet, and sink. It gleamed with silver and ceramic, like something from an expensive hotel from earth.
She joked lightly as he moved toward it. "Well, if you need assistance, I could help you."
IAM didn't respond. He simply walked into the bathroom and pressed a button from the inside, sealing the door shut.
Maye let out a small breath of relief, thankful once again that IAM wasn't like some of the patients she'd dealt with in the past—those who had mistaken her professionalism for something else, who turned her kindness into something awkward. IAM never crossed that line. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her attempts at humor.
Thirty minutes later, IAM was sitting upright in bed, freshly showered and dressed in a clean hospital gown. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, his locs in a bonnet to keep them away from his face. He was taking spoonfuls of porridge with mechanical efficiency. It wasn't graceful, but he ate steadily, consuming double the usual portion.
Maye noted, not for the first time, that he never let her feed him. Not even when his arms trembled with effort days earlier. He'd always insisted on doing it himself.
She busied herself by checking the machines connected to his body. There were two thin tubes feeding into his arm—one for light painkillers, another for nutrient fluid. The monitors beside him displayed his slowly stabilizing vitals.
She reviewed his chart again. His recovery had been difficult. While advanced healing methods could close wounds and accelerate regeneration, they came at a heavy price—drawing directly from the patient's own energy . The sicker or more injured a person was, the more dangerous it became. It was why medicine and rest were still the preferred option for anything that wasn't fatal.
In IAM's case, his injuries had been so severe and his life force so weak that the doctors had been forced to use a careful balance of healing methods and machine-assisted rest to preserve what little of him remained. It was a miracle he had lived through it at all.
The sound of the door opening snapped both Maye and IAM's attention toward the entrance.
IAM's spoon paused mid-air as he glanced up and let out a small, quiet chuckle—a rare sound that caught Maye off guard.
"You're a little bit late," IAM said, voice hoarse but dry.
Thor stepped into the room, his tall frame filling the doorway, his presence grounding.
"And you…" Thor said with a half-smile, walking forward with his hands in his pockets. "…are still alive."
"I guess," IAM muttered.
He took another bite of porridge, eyes returning to the bowl, but the faintest glint of something—shimmered in his gaze.
Thor pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. "Well," he said with a shrug, "I brought what I promised."
He placed a black case and a small box on the table next to IAM's bed.
IAM didn't look at it.
Maye watched them quietly, sensing that this wasn't her place. She gave IAM a smile, nodded at Thor, and quietly left the room with the guard.
Now, it was just IAM and Thor.
Thor tapped the case lightly. "It's not just rewards. There's a choice here. What you do next... it's up to you."
IAM didn't respond immediately. But his hands stilled.
Then, quietly, almost like a breath:
"…Okay."