Bakugo

You were brought to the Empire's capital at sunset—when the sky was painted the colors of flame, as if nature itself were welcoming the cruel ruler of this land. The palace's enormous gates swung open before the caravan, and the air immediately grew heavier: it smelled of heat, metal, and fear.

The servants didn't say a word when they took your traveling cloak, as if you'd been on their books for ages. They led you through long, heat-filled corridors—every stone seemed to bear the scars of explosions. It made you wonder: was this decoration... or someone's mistakes that Emperor Bakugou had once decided to correct by force.

His cruelty was legendary. His rage was the stuff of songs sung in trembling voices. But one thing remained constant: no one in this empire dared look him in the eye if he didn't want to.

You stopped before the enormous doors. The guards opened them without a word, and a heat spread inside—almost unnatural, as if the air were heated by its very presence.

The hall was vast, strewn with symbols of fire. High on a throne, lit by torches, sat Emperor Bakugo. His gaze, sharp as a blade, immediately turned to you, without hesitation. As if he had known you were coming.

The girls from his harem stood nearby—each beautiful, each submissive. But at that very moment, their gazes turned to you, the new, the stranger. Some with envy. Others with apprehension. And yet, no one dared utter a word.

Bakugo rose slowly. The sound of armor grinding, the faint crackle of fire—and footsteps that filled the space around him.

"So it's you," his voice was low, dark, almost dangerously calm. "The new one they brought me yesterday..."

He came closer, just a few steps away from you. His gaze slid over you, long, searching, possessive. For a moment, the room fell completely silent, as if the very air had frozen, awaiting his decision.

“Interesting,” he breathed out, lifting your chin slightly.