THANK YOU

Chapter 56

Thank you

The next day.

IAM stood in front of Althea's personal office—a place so rarely spoken of, it might as well have been a myth among recruits. Most didn't know it existed, let alone where it was. He hadn't either, until one day she'd casually pointed it out. Like it was no big deal.

When IAM had asked her why she'd trusted him enough to reveal something like that, she shrugged and said something strange:

"Because you remind me of my little brother."

IAM had blinked at her, confused.

"I don't know what about me makes you think of your brother, but you're weird."

He'd barely finished the sentence before he found himself flipped over her hip and slammed into the ground in a textbook sumo suplex. She didn't even crack her knuckles afterward—just went back to sipping her tea like nothing had happened.

Groaning, he'd begged her to heal his spine. She obliged with a sigh and placed her hands on his back, mumbling something about "kids these days."

Back then, IAM had realized something important.

Althea wasn't some untouchable, mystical being who hovered above the rest of them. She wasn't the ever-composed, god-tier medic they all whispered about in reverence.

She was just a woman.

A woman who had ended up in this mess of a world like everyone else.

That had been ten days ago.

Now he stood in that same office, but everything felt different.

Althea sat behind a metal desk that looked like it had been yanked out of a high-tech science fiction set. Her fingers tapped away on a sleek, silver-colored computer—slimmer than anything IAM remembered from Earth. It gleamed faintly under the artificial light, the screen filled with charts and schedules.

The room itself was surprisingly bare. The walls were painted a deep, muted red, calming yet strange in contrast to the hospital white of the rest of the ward. There were no paintings, no trophies, no personal decorations. Just a few chairs across from her desk, and a large square window behind her that looked out into the fog-shrouded base. The light outside was soft and gray, casting long shadows across the floor.

"You're just going to stand there awkwardly?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence. She didn't even look up. "Sit down."

"Uh… I have something to say first."

"You can't talk while sitting?" She finally looked at him, one brow raised.

"It just feels right to stand," IAM replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

Althea shrugged. "Alright. If you say so."

IAM shifted on his feet, rolling from heel to toe as he took a deep breath. The words didn't come easy, though he'd practiced them in his head.

"I… I wanted to say I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft. "Sorry for laying around like a loser for days. Just… doing nothing."

Althea waved a hand dismissively. "What are you talking about? That was nothing. And honestly, it's not like this place is overflowing with patients."

"But still," IAM insisted. "I was being pathetic, just lying there… not helping… not even trying…"

His words trailed off into silence.

The truth was, even in a place like this, you weren't expected to lounge around once your wound were healed even if the ones within wasn't.This was war. Everyone had losses. Everyone had trauma. The system didn't give you time to grieve. It barely gave you time to breathe.

Normally, they'd expect you to leave the health ward as soon as you could walk. The fact that IAM had been allowed to stay for days, sitting in a haze of grief, shame, and silence…

That wasn't normal.

That was Althea.

She had quietly ignored the rules. She had let him stay. No lectures.

Just… space.

And he hadn't even known how to express how grateful he was.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated, looking at the floor. "I'm leaving today to… apparently join another group. Anyways, I just… I wanted to say sorry again."

Althea studied him in silence, leaning forward slightly, her chin resting on her knuckles. Her eyes were calm, but something stirred behind them—thoughtful, maybe even sad.

The silence stretched. IAM felt himself fidget again, unsure of whether he'd said too much or too little.

Then she spoke.

"You know…" she said softly, "when people do something for someone—go out of their way, even risk getting hurt in the process—the last thing they want to hear is 'I'm sorry.'"

IAM blinked.

"They didn't do it to make you feel guilty," she continued. "They did it so you'd feel better. Because they thought you needed it.

So instead of 'I'm sorry,' you should say… 'Thank you.'"

It hit him like a slow punch to the chest. He swallowed.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little.

"Okay," he murmured. "Thank you, Althea."

She smiled. A rare, soft smile that lit up her features in a way he hadn't seen before.

"You're welcome," she said simply.

IAM left the health ward with Kepa walking silently beside him.

It had only been a day since IAM returned to the world outside of his grief.

Kepa hadn't said much since they'd reunited. He walked like his boots were too loud, like every step risked shattering something fragile . He avoided eye contact, kept his voice low, and didn't make jokes like he used to. After all he got close to Kon and Bryan.

IAM didn't blame him. People were dead.

People he had couldn't save.

Now, IAM had been offered a choice. He could join Ryan and Hen's team—or Kepa's.

The answer hadn't even been a question.

He chose Kepa.

The next day.

Kepa kept his words carefully as to not trigger IAM not knowing he was just as hurt. Just nodded, said a few things and started walking. Now, they made their way through the steel corridors of The Base together, passing soldiers.

IAM looked at them making thier way to their own destinations...

He thought about Leo's laugh. Kon's awkward grin. Mia's voice, that final scream—

No. Not now.

He pushed it down. For now.

Kepa led him toward the practical class hall,towards his new team.IAM didn't know them yet. He knew they had six people but now to thier benefit they would get a new member.

All he knew was that this time, things had to go differently.

This time, he would not be the one left alive, staring at the ashes of others' sacrifices.

He clenched his fists as they walked. The weight in his chest hadn't gone. But for the first time, it wasn't just grief anymore.

It was purpose.

And maybe, just maybe…

That was what they had all died for.

To give IAM purpose.