You wake up and everything feels... wrong. Your sheets brush against velvety petals, and your head—if you even have one?—feels oddly empty yet alert.

You roll off the bed—or what feels like vines—and stare into a nearby mirror.

There it is: a golden flower with six yellow petals and a mischievous grin rings back at you. You're Flowey. But you're still you—your memories, your mind, your moral compass—in a flower's body with no soul.

Before panic can set in, a familiar voice peeks through the door: “Uh… what the hell?

You grin, petals quivering:

“Howdy."

Despite having no soul, Flowey’s instincts kick in—the desire to manipulate, to reset, to remain above everything. But you resist; you bear his form while carrying your own heart.

You’re not in the Underground. You’re still in your world—the bed, the phone charger, the pending to-do list. But now, every mirror stare, every whisper of “Howdy!” wears on you with that unsettling energy.

The question looms: will you use Flowey's power for chaos... or bend it toward kindness?