Emperor of ashes

Going against the devil

Angel pov

A girl about my age dropped the dark book in front of me, her hands trembling slightly as if she pitied me already. I could feel the weight of danger in the air. His eyes—those cold, soulless eyes—were boiling with rage.

He might not kill me outright… but I knew he would break me. Slowly.

"Read the rules aloud, That is my seven commandments" he commanded, his voice sharp and threatening.

My heart thudded violently against my chest. I could barely breathe. My hands shook as I picked up the book. I could already feel tears welling in my eyes, but I forced myself to speak.

Rule One: I must not look the master in the eye.

I immediately dropped my gaze. Just reading that felt like signing my own death warrant.

Rule Two: I must always call him ‘Master’.

(What does he think I am? A slave? Who the hell does he think he is?)

Rule Three: I must not touch any of his possessions—or I’m dead.

I swallowed hard. Everything around him screamed “don’t touch.” Including him.

Rule Four: I must respect everyone because they are worth a lot more than me.

(He really sees me as nothing… less than human. Just dirt beneath his designer shoes.)

Rule Five: I must never question Master—or I’m dead.

Even breathing without permission felt like rebellion at that moment.

Rule Six: I must not make friends with anyone in this school—or I’m dead.

My chest tightened. No one to talk to? No one to trust? Just silence and fear?

Rule seven: You are not to go out of your room even if you are dying , it's only the master that has the right to call you out of your room.

"Abide by the rules and you will live. Disobey… and you will die," he said with a chilling calmness.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears fell, hot and silent. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I just wanted to go home.

The maids gently took me by the arm and led me to what they called "my room." I expected a prison cell. But when the door opened…

I froze.

The room was huge—painted in soft pinks, with gold-trimmed curtains and a chandelier that sparkled like stars. The bed looked like it belonged in a royal palace, with pillows stacked high and blankets softer than anything I’d ever touched.

I smiled weakly, still sniffling. I had never seen luxury like this in my life.

This bedroom is bigger than my whole house.

On the bed, laid out like a gift, were designer clothes, shoes… and right in the center, the latest iPhone. Its back was covered in black diamonds, glittering under the lights.

I gasped. "Oh my God..." I whispered, reaching for it.

"So the rumors were true... This guy is insanely rich," I muttered to myself, a grin slipping onto my face despite everything.

But then the grin faded.

It was all useless.

What’s the point of all this, when I know I won’t live long enough to enjoy it? I’m bound to break at least one of those rules. I know myself. I talk too much. I question everything. I crave connection. I’ll mess up.

I sighed and slowly unzipped my gown, my hands still trembling, and walked into the bathroom with a heavy heart.

This was no home.

It was a golden cage.

And I was already trapped.

Mr walker

The evening breeze danced gently through the open-air pavilion, rustling the silk curtains that framed the view of the sprawling estate.

The sun was melting behind the hills, casting a golden hue across the manicured lawns and glistening fountains. From where I sat, high above the courtyard, the mansion loomed behind me like a silent witness—its cold glass windows reflecting both the beauty of the sunset and the secrets we kept hidden inside.

I sat in stillness, glass in hand, the ice clinking softly against the sides. My eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, though my thoughts swirled with the weight of one name—Jordan.

That boy. That stubborn, reckless brat. He was beginning to push too far. And soon, I would be forced to remind him who truly holds the power.

Footsteps echoed along the marble path. I didn’t need to turn to know it was Jake—ever the loyal shadow, always with news, always with a grin that barely concealed his eagerness to please.

“I’ve sent another girl to Jordan,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “She’s not like the others. She’s... tougher.”

I gave a slow, approving nod, the glass in my hand catching the last glint of sunlight.

“No matter how tough they are,” I murmured, “Jordan will break them. He is, after all... my son.”

I took a sip, the bitterness of the drink grounding me. The kind of bitterness one only acquires after decades of making ruthless decisions.

“He cannot marry into another wealthy family. Not while the truth still lies beneath our legacy. If that happens, our entire empire—our secrets, our name—could crumble. I’ve built too much to lose it now. I will stop him. Threaten him if I must. I don’t care.”

Jake hesitated. I could feel his doubt without seeing his face.

“But, sir… Jordan doesn’t fear threats.”

I turned slightly, a calm, knowing smile tugging at my lips.

“No,” I said. “He doesn’t fear threats. But he fears me. And he knows what I’m capable of.” ....

Angel pov

Time: 2:00 a.m.

I know this monster wants to starve me. He didn’t even tell anyone to bring me food. My stomach felt like it was chewing itself, and I was already rolling in bed—weak, irritated, and painfully hungry.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Screw the rules.

Screw the master.

He can’t kill me for feeding myself.

I got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. The hallway was quiet, deadly quiet. Everyone had to be asleep by now. I crept out, praying not to bump into any of his guards.

Finding the kitchen wasn’t hard. The house was massive, but hunger made me sharp.

When I opened the kitchen door, my jaw dropped.

What the hell?

The kitchen looked like something out of a luxury cooking show. Marble counters, shiny utensils, ingredients neatly arranged like they were posing for a magazine cover. I almost forgot I was sneaking around.

“Cool,” I whispered, grinning to myself. “This is really a good idea. I should break rules more often.”

I knew exactly what I wanted—muffins. I had never tasted them before. Too expensive. Too fancy. But now? I was the chef. I turned on the gas confidently and got to work.

Two cups of flour into the bowl.

Cracked four eggs.

Stirred them together like a pro.

Added oil, a little milk, a spoonful of baking powder.

A pinch of salt.

And finally, a teaspoon of vanilla essence.

The smell… God. It was magical. I couldn’t stop smiling.

After a few minutes, I plated it like a queen serving herself her first royal meal. I was just about to sneak back out when—

a cold hand grabbed me.

I froze.

Before I could scream, a palm covered my mouth.

I turned slowly.

It was her—the master’s bodyguard. That scary one with eyes like knives.

I was finished.

“I’m sorry!” I whispered. “Please, don’t punish me. I was just hungry. That’s all.”

She stared at me, her expression unreadable… then smiled.

“Master told you not to leave your room, you crazy girl,” she said, almost amused.

I blinked. What?

She reached behind her and handed me a bottle of champagne.

“Take this and go back.”

Just like that.

I stood there stunned, the plate in one hand, the champagne in the other. I nodded quickly and hurried back to my room, heart still racing.

Why would someone like her help me?

Was this a trap?

I didn’t care anymore. I sat on my bed, my stomach rumbling, and smiled as I dug in.

Even if this is my last meal in this house…

I’ll enjoy every damn bite