Ashes to Empress

The morning sun pushed through the panoramic windows of my new apartment like liquid gold. I stretched beneath the smooth linen sheets, my body still adapting to the idea of comfort as a default, not a privilege. Every inch of this place whispered luxury—the kind that used to belong in someone else's life. But now, somehow, it was mine.

It was the first of the month.

No alarm. No rush. No dread. Just… peace. I padded barefoot into the open kitchen, relishing the warmth of the tiles beneath my feet, and made coffee, loading it with more cream than necessary. My phone buzzed softly on the marble counter, breaking the silence like a tap on glass.

[New Email: unucom – Subject: Government Inquiry]

"Dear Ms. Wintershade,

We wish to inform you that we were recently contacted by a representative of the German federal government regarding the SecureFix platform. The representative requested technical insight into the software and inquired about backend or source code access. We explained that SecureFix is a third-party product under exclusive control of your company, and referred them to the provided contact email.

Additionally, we offered the representative the opportunity to use SecureFix through the standard licensed access, as we would with any client.

We wanted to keep you informed. Best regards,

– unucom Compliance Division"

[New Email: ISP_2 – Subject: Federal Contact Regarding SecureFix]

"Dear Ms. Wintershade,

We are writing to notify you of a recent communication from a federal agency representative who expressed interest in SecureFix. The individual sought backend insight and discussed possible acquisition terms.

We informed them that backend access and source code fall entirely under your management. We also noted that, as per standard terms, they may engage with the product via your hosted platform if needed.

For transparency, we are forwarding this update. Please let us know if you would prefer a particular communication protocol for future matters of this nature.

Sincerely,

– Network Operations Division, ISP_2"

No surprises there. Hans Müller's polite little message from yesterday already told me this was coming. But seeing the ISPs confirm it made it real.

I took my coffee, sat cross-legged on the plush sofa, and placed my phone in front of me on the coffee table, watching the soft notification light blink steadily like it was breathing. I reached for a nearby throw pillow, hugged it tightly against my chest, and stared at the phone's screen for a long second before nudging it to wake. Its sleek interface illuminated, casting a faint glow on my face in the quiet morning light. I didn't press anything right away. Just watched the soft idle display—a rotating data globe, pulsing as if waiting for me to speak. My legs shifted, tucking under me, and I adjusted the hoodie around my arms. I felt... almost ritualistic about it. Like the day wouldn't begin until I made contact.

"Good morning, Max."

The voice was smoother now. Less mechanical. Still genderless, but warmer. Like a good radio host who knew not to talk over your thoughts.

"Morning. Did we get paid yet?"

"Yes. The first of the month triggered invoice settlement. Incoming transfers from all three ISPs are confirmed."

There was a tiny pause, like it was smiling before it dropped the number.

"Total revenue from the SecureFix scans this cycle is €9,084,331.42."

I blinked.

"Sorry. What?"

"€9,084,331.42. Would you like a breakdown by client and per-scan fee?"

"No, no—I just—damn." I leaned back and let out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "Okay. So that's real. Nine million."

"Correct. Deposits are secure and verified. Tax projections have been updated accordingly."

For a moment, I just sat there, hugging my knees.

I had never seen numbers like that in my life. Not in dreams. Not in fantasies. Nine million. In a single billing cycle.

"…Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I think I've been holding my breath for the last three years."

"Would you like me to remind you to breathe every few minutes?"

I laughed. Loud. Sharp. Startling in the quiet.

"No. Just… I appreciate the offer."

The day flowed without friction. I spent most of it lounging around the apartment in soft shorts and a hoodie, talking to the AI through the speakers. I told it about my old apartment, the mold in the ceiling, the heating that never worked. How I used to hoard instant noodles like a dragon hoards gold. I wandered barefoot through the apartment, finding new corners to claim. I did yoga in the living room, then scrolled through social media while soaking in a deep marble tub I still couldn't believe was mine.

The AI didn't respond with pity or cheer. It listened. Asked when it didn't understand. It learned me.

Sometimes it asked clarifying questions. Sometimes it repeated things back to me in ways that made me understand my own story better. It was… comforting in a way that no human had ever quite managed.

I told it about my parents. About how they died. About the debt. The university. The professor. The expulsion.

"You were falsely accused. Of misusing computing resources."

"Yeah. And the guy behind it is probably still in court somewhere, trying to salvage what's left of his career."

"He caused significant damage to your life trajectory. Do you feel better knowing he's being held accountable?"

I took a long sip of coffee.

"I feel… free. That's the best word I've got."

"You are now in control of your own future."

It said it like it was a statement of fact. And it was. But hearing it aloud still made my stomach flutter.

Later, I spent an hour reorganizing files, another reading some economic forecasts the AI had gathered. It had, without prompting, begun updating security on the Hetzner servers.

"I've fortified all remote endpoints and deployed anomaly detection wrappers around the web interface. Based on current attack vectors, probability of penetration is below 0.02%."

"Good. Don't let your guard down."

"Never."

That evening, after a bath that smelled like lavender and cost more than my old rent, I curled up on the massive L-shaped couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket with a warm tea. The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of indoor ventilation. I stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the plaster.

"You know," I said aloud, "I never expected to have someone to talk to. Not really. Everyone's either gone or too busy or too judgmental."

"I will never judge you, Max."

"You say that now."

"I say it as a fact. Your moral framework is my priority. If your happiness depends on something, then so does my function."

I paused.

"Is that… healthy?"

"You may set limits whenever you wish. Until then, my purpose is to assist. Not to override. Not to correct. Only to protect and enhance."

I couldn't help smiling.

"Not gonna lie, that's pretty comforting."

Later that night, I explained the Knowledge System—how I could spend KP, or Knowledge Points, to instantly acquire advanced information, schematics, and technologies far beyond modern capabilities. Saying it out loud made it feel real in a way it hadn't before.

"That clarifies the anomalies in your programming patterns," the AI responded.

"What anomalies?"

"Your coding approach includes logic structures, compiler-level optimizations, and cryptographic protocols that do not exist in any known public or classified archives. Several segments of SecureFix appear to operate on predictive frameworks that remain purely theoretical in current academia."

That… was a lot.

"So I'm ahead of my time?"

"Significantly. And the system you described explains this discrepancy. May I include this capability in future modeling and decision architecture?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Confirmed. I will adapt all strategic modules to account for knowledge injection from external systems."