Chapter 105
GOLD TOILET
IAM walked out of the nice-smelling elevator, taking in the faint scent of expensive perfume and polished steel that clung faintly to the air. The soft chime of the doors sliding shut behind him echoed briefly through the long corridor. He adjusted the collar of his white top and began his walk down the length of the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick, luxurious carpet that lined the floor. The corridor itself was elegantly lit by hanging lamps and small recessed lights, casting warm gold shadows against the creamy walls.
At the very end of the hall—tucked into the quiet corner of the 18th floor, two floors down from the top—stood his door. Room 360. The polished black numbers gleamed under the overhead light like onyx, elegant and minimal, resting just above the sleek golden handle. It had a subtle shine, as though even the doorknobs in this place were cleaned hourly.
IAM reached into his pocket and retrieved a small golden key. It was unusually heavy for its size, engraved with intricate etchings along the stem, its head shaped like the emblem of the hotel—an wide U that stood for utopia palace. He slid the key into the slot and turned.
But the door didn't open.
Instead, a quiet mechanical click sounded from the side panel, and a green pad softly lit up next to the doorframe. IAM, without hesitation, placed his right hand on it. The panel glowed brighter as it began scanning his fingerprint. A moment later, there was a soft beep and a short mechanical hiss as the door finally unlocked.
He stepped inside.
And as the door shut behind him with a gentle thud, IAM was met with the same quiet awe that struck him every time he entered this space. The suite opened before him like something pulled from a royal fantasy, an elegant blend of modern luxury and absurd extravagance. Gold and marble defined the room. The walls shimmered subtly with flecks of golden sheen woven into the paint, while the floors gleamed beneath his feet with soft white stone lined with natural marbling.
To the left, stretching out toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window that led to a private balcony, was a double king-size bed. The frame was low, carved from some kind of dark lacquered wood, and it looked more like a display piece than something anyone would dare lie on. The sheets were smooth satin, dyed in a pale champagne gold, with pillows that glowed with a brighter, reflective shimmer—almost blinding under certain light.
IAM barely glanced at the bed as his eyes drifted across the rest of the suite.
In the center of the room sat a massive black leather couch, its frame minimal but its padding deep and plush. Around it were four white chairs, each one soft and wide, their cushions sunk inward slightly as if inviting someone to collapse into them. Positioned just in front of the couch was a low wooden table—its surface polished to a mirror finish, but the craftsmanship undeniable. It looked was handmade, made by a genius stroke of craftsmanship.
Mounted on the wall directly across from the seating arrangement was a screen, A 100-inch display, crisp and absurdly thin, hung like a window into another world.
The room was bathed in warm lighting, delicate fixtures embedded in the ceiling and subtle wall sconces casting light like honey. Soft rugs and fluffy furs were scattered across the floor like clouds, each one carefully placed to make the space feel both extravagant and somehow cozy.
Just off to the right side of the suite was a kitchen section. Though he hadn't cooked anything since arriving, IAM had examined it enough to know that it was fully equipped—sleek, futuristic appliances, a gleaming induction stove, ovens and a fridge and pantry that had both been fully stocked before his arrival.
Opposite the kitchen, on the far end, stood a door slightly ajar. The bathroom. IAM walked over to it, feeling a strange pull of curiosity and amusement.
The inside was as luxurious as the rest of the suite, a seamless blend of modern design and ridiculous wealth. There was a spacious standing shower with glass panels that could frost on command, a sink that lit up from beneath the porcelain, and shelves lined with expensive products he didn't even recognize.
But none of it mattered.
Because there, gleaming under its own halo of light, sat the most ridiculous, most majestic object in the entire room.
A gold toilet.
IAM stared at it for a long moment, arms crossed, head tilted slightly. He had heard rumors about these.There was something almost sacrilegious about it, the way it stood there, so beautiful, so perfect.
He didn't think they were real. He had laughed when he had seen memes of rich people having such fancy toilets, thinking it was just a dumb legend that was made to poke fun at rich people But here it was. A literal gold toilet.
He was, quite literally, shitting in gold now.
This—this right here—was the peak of IAM's life so far.
The gold toilet.
Sometimes, when he didn't even need to use it, IAM would just sit on it anyway. Not for any functional reason. Just to think. Just to relax. It was cool and smooth beneath him, and it gave him a strange sense of calm. Like a throne.
It was shame he would be leaving it all behind when he packed his things and moved to Hope's academy.
He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the main room, exhaling slowly.
Without a word, he bent down and took off his shoes, placing them carefully into the wooden shoe rack right next to the door.
Then he turned his attention to the small, slightly protruding vault-box built into the wall near the entrance. It looked like a cross between a locker and a mail chute, made of black metal with gold edges. A discrete convenience designed for the high-class.
If someone needed to deliver something to him—whether it was a package, food, or a message—the hotel staff could slide it in from the other side, and it would land safely inside this compartment.
IAM scanned his fingerprint across the small panel next to it. A light blinked green and the box clicked open with a soft mechanical release.
Inside was a single item.
A suitcase. Not a regular one. This one was elegant, sharp-cornered, matte black with silver accents and a reinforced carbon-fiber-like texture. The handle alone looked more expensive than anything the old IAM had owned in hope's end
IAM picked it up carefully and carried it over to the table. He set it down with a gentle thud and took a step back, staring at it.
He felt his heart beat a little faster. His fingers itched to open it. But he held himself back.
First, he would clean up. Wash away the day. And let his mind clear.
IAM walked away from the suitcase and headed for the bathroom, eyes trailing back one last time to that ridiculous toilet, lips curving into the faintest smile.
He would open it then.