Veildark Records: The Melody of our sins

'Hell is not just torment-it's the grandest, most diabolical orchestra ever composed.'

Though no one knows which demon first coined this phrase, it holds an undeniable truth. The economic collapse of Hell looms on the horizon, according to analysts. But how do these elements-economy, music, hell and madness-intersect? At first glance, they may seem worlds apart. Yet they've always moved in unison. Music is profit, from advertisements to albums crafted solely to sell. Musicians teeter on the edge, seeking the perfect composition, while hell itself orchestrates the melody of sin.

Since the dawn of time, it's been this way-the red of blood from fingers worn down by guitar strings, the seductive chaos of a dissonant note, and the rise of a new star. Music is sin, it's economy, it's madness. But most of all, music is consequence.

3. Studio on demand.

Back at Veildark Records, shortly after the intense meeting, everyone returned to their duties. Kain, accompanied by his manager Ronnie, walked through the corridors of the record company, making their way toward the studio.

"I still think it's a bad idea Ronnie." Kain said, his red cane hitting the floor.

Ronnie smirked, keeping pace beside him. "Kain, it's easy money. That's what I'm talking about. Let's capitalize on your incredible career."

"Yeah... but a museum about me? It still feels... strange."

"We've already been through this, Kain. It's decided."

"Then make a museum about yourself. You're just as famous-a classical composer since the 17th century, creator of the Grim Void Orchestra, and blah, blah, blah."

"I'm not the owner of Veildark Records or the one with a huge poster in the lobby."

"I didn't put that poster there. You did."

Ronnie raised a finger to Kain's lips. "Details, Kain, details."

Kain pulled Ronnie's hand away. "Do that again, Ronald, and I'll break your finger."

"Okay, I understand," Ronnie replied, rolling his eyes.

After a few more steps, Greasy, the crow, began lightly pecking Kain's head, drawing his attention. Kain gently scooped up the bird, cradling it in his arms as he walked, petting it softly.

"What do you want, Greasy?" he asked.

"Caw! I'm hungry..."

"You already had lunch this morning," Kain replied.

"That was in the morning. It's already three in the afternoon..." Greasy responded, wrapping his wings around Kain and looking up at him with dark red eyes.

"Alright, alright... I'm a bit hungry myself."

Kain reached inside his suit and pulled out a package of chocolate chip cookies labeled "There's No Cocoa In Hell." He took a cookie and offered it to Greasy, who eagerly ate it right from Kain's hand.

"You carry that packet of cookies everywhere," Ronnie observed.

"You never know when you'll need it," Kain replied, taking a cookie for himself and biting into it.

Kain tucked the cookie packet back into his suit and continued walking alongside Ronnie. After a few more steps, they finally reached the door of the Veildark Records studio.

"Here we are. It's been a week, Ronnie-I hope Rash at least cleaned up the ashes," Kain remarked.

Ronnie adjusted his clothes with a grin. "You're about to touch, why I haven't let you in here all week."

Kain smirked. "Try to impress me, Ronnie."

With a sly smile, Ronnie opened the door and nudged Kain inside. The studio was spacious, packed with high-end professional equipment-mixing desks, various instruments, microphones, and more. Most of the room was dark, painted black, except for the door, which was a deep red. Inside the recording booth, soundproofed walls were complemented by a pulsating red neon sign that read Veildark Records: Composing Your Sin in stylized letters.

Despite the studio's tidy appearance, the window between the mixing desk and the recording booth was shattered, with numerous scorch marks visible. The walls bore signs of past burns, though it seemed everything had been cleaned and put back in order since the incident.

Under the mixing desk, the spider demon Rash was busy connecting some cables, while nearby, Vixy fiddled with her phone. She looked up at the sound of the door opening and spotted Kain and Ronnie.

"Hey, Boss," Vixy greeted, giving a casual wave.

Kain nodded toward the sound in response.

Ronnie stepped forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Hello, Vixy! Today is the day I unveil our newly renovated studio to none other than the glorious rhythm demon, Kain Longheart-"

His speech was abruptly cut off as his eyes darted to the broken window and the scorch marks on the walls. He turned sharply, narrowing his gaze at Rash, who was still busy with the cables. "Rash! You promised the studio would be spotless today!"

Rash's voice was muffled beneath the table, making it impossible to hear what he said.

"What?" Ronnie asked, leaning closer.

Rash crawled out from under the mixing desk, rubbing his head in frustration. "I said, we had a little mishap-called the mixing desk. I've been trying to install it for days, and... it's a lot harder than I thought."

"That's what happens when you don't pay for professional assembly," Vixy chimed in, her voice slightly distorted through her gas mask.

"I-I don't need anyone to install equipment for me!" Rash shot back, defensive. "I built a robot Hellhound, and I'm not about to let a bunch of cables defeat me!"

Vixy smirked, crossing her arms. "You really take the 'Pride' part of the Pride Ring too seriously, Rash."

Rash scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "And look who's talking-the one who gave up her DJ career because of her pride in her appearanc-"

Before he could finish, Vixy detached her prosthetic leg and hurled it at Rash with precision. The leg hit him square in the head, sending him sprawling onto the floor in a daze.

Vixy calmly retrieved her prosthetic, reattaching it without a word. She bounced lightly to test its fit, then crossed her arms and looked away with an irritated huff.

"Ouch... Okay, I deserved that one," Rash muttered, rubbing the fresh bruise on his forehead before crawling back under the table.

Kain let out a weary sigh, bringing a hand to his face. "What an amazing team..."

"Anyway, feel free to touch everything," Ronnie said with an exaggerated gesture toward the studio.

Greasy hopped off Kain's head and landed on the mixing desk, tilting his head inquisitively. Meanwhile, Kain ran his hands over the various surfaces, exploring the room with meticulous care. He felt the smooth texture of the impeccably clean equipment, the cold, solid floor, the faintly charred walls, and the intricacies of the soundboard. His hands finally rested on the door to the recording booth.

Greasy fluttered back to Kain's shoulder, letting out a soft caw. "You can open the door, Kain."

Kain turned the handle, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. Instantly, the muffled sounds of the studio vanished, replaced by an eerie silence. Yet within that void, something else lingered-a strange, haunting noise.

It wasn't the typical ambiance of a quiet room. No, this was dissonant, chaotic. The sound twisted and turned, refusing to follow any coherent melody. It was as if screams of hatred and cries of love intertwined with unsettling harmony. Notes clashed like a battle of emotions, creating an oppressive atmosphere.

Kain froze, his breathing shallow as he realized it wasn't just his imagination. This was no ordinary sound. It clawed at the edges of his mind, a haunting memory he had buried long ago. Something he had sworn never to confront again.

His heartbeat quickened, and a sense of dread overwhelmed him. He stumbled out of the booth, desperate to escape the suffocating noise. As the door swung shut behind him, and the soft Jazz of the record label invades his ears again,

he felt relieved, the calm Jazz silenced something even more Sinister.

"Kain! What happened? Are you okay?." Greasy said flapping his wings with a worried caw.

"I'm fine, I've been through this before."

The record company employees who were in the room went to Kain asking what had happened, he simply said waving his hands "It's okay, this is a blind thing...", Rash and Vixy believe it and go back to what they were doing but Ronnie wasn't convinced.

"Are you sure you're okay Kain?" He asked, crossing his arms and speaking quietly enough for only Kain to hear.

"Yes, I am fine." Kain said using his walking stick to stand up. He gave Ronnie a reassuring nod, though the tension in his audio visualizers hinted otherwise.

Ronnie didn't press the conversation any further, but he could tell something was off. He and Kain had been friends for a long time-long before Kain Longheart first stepped onto the stage, long before he went blind. They had history. But for now, Ronnie chose to let it slide.

"Okay then, if you say so," Ronnie said, still not fully convinced by Kain. He quickly shifted back to his usual cheerful demeanor.

"So, what do you think of the amazing, renovated studio from the best record label in Hell, Veildark Records?"

"It turned out well, but we're going to have to work hard to pay for it."

"You're such a pessimist."

"I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist-"

"Let's not start this again."

As Kain thought about what had happened, the studio door creaked open, and the bat demon stumbled inside, a bag of blood clutched loosely in his hand.

"Rash... I-I think this blood isn't healthy," Lenian Bloodbite slurred, wobbling his way toward the spider demon.

"Lenian? Are you drunk?" Vixy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I was hungry," Lenian mumbled, blinking sluggishly. "So I went to the fridge in the breakroom to grab a bag of blood for lunch. Turns out... it's bad to drink blood from someone who's been drinking alcohol. I get d-drunk way too fast."

"It's hard to tell what's in a blood bag just by looking at it. I'm not a vampire," Rash muttered, shrugging as he continued working on the cables.

Lenian groaned, swaying slightly. "I'll never let you buy me blood bags again. I'd rather starve to death or bite someone before risking this again."

Ronnie chuckled lightly at the scene before him. Lenian, still sipping from the half-empty blood bag through a straw, shifted his attention to Kain and staggered toward him.

"B-Boss," Lenian began, his voice slightly slurred. "I have some excellent news."

Kain raised an eyebrow, tapping his cane lightly on the floor. "Really? Okay then, tell me. I'm all ears."

"You know that promising rapper who came here last week?" Lenian asked, taking another sip from the straw.

"Uhhh, yeah, what's wrong with him?" Kain inquired, his tone cautious.

Lenian grinned, revealing his sharp teeth. "There's nothing wrong, sir! I just came to let you know-he called me earlier to say he's accepted the record deal!"

Kain's eyes widened in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," Lenian confirmed, swaying slightly as he spoke. "He agreed to our terms-30% of all his revenue goes to the label." He paused, clutching his stomach. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to vomit." With that, Lenian stumbled out of the studio, heading straight for the bathroom.

Ronnie smirked, crossing his arms. "I told you, Kain, he'd accept. It was just a matter of time."

Kain frowned slightly, tapping his cane on the ground. "Yeah, but we've never had a rapper on this label before."

Ronnie shrugged casually. "There's a first time for everything. Anyway, we should go back to work, I still have to talk to Miss Lumiere about Luxuria Mundi's advertising plan. And you still need to discuss our partnership with that fast food chain, see you later Kain."

"I guess," Kain replied in a dry tone.

Ronnie gave him a light pat on the back and left the room, chuckling to himself.

"Man, I never imagined I'd have so many headaches when I opened this place," Kain muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Caw! Don't worry, Kain. You're a smart devil, and you'll get through this. The second year of the label's operation has just begun. You should be more excited," Greasy responded, settling on Kain's head.

"I should," Kain said with a sigh."Rash, can you finish installing the mixing desk today?"

Rash crawled out from under the desk and replied, "Yes, sir. Vixy, call RB and ask him to bring the new glass window."

Vixy nodded and left the studio to find RB. Kain, after a brief moment, followed her out, heading to his office while Rash remained behind to work and there is nothing that represents the city better than this so a few hours later, Hell's Gate transitioned into its nighttime phase, its busiest period. The factories along the Sea of Pride began to shut down for the evening, and employees departed either by boat or on foot, traversing the endless web of bridges connecting the industrial expanse.

Far from the bustling heart of the Sea of Pride, a small cargo frigate sailed through the shadows, heading toward the gates that separated the industrial region from the rest of the city. The darkness was oppressive; the Sea of Pride at night was poorly lit, and the surrounding marshy landscape offered little in the way of comfort or beauty.

The boat itself was a rusty relic, bearing the scars of years of wear and neglect. Despite its battered appearance, it remained impressively functional. Its cargo consisted of containers packed with vehicle spare parts, bound for an assembly plant in a distant city.

Among the few demons aboard, the most notable was the captain in the cockpit, skillfully maneuvering the helm. His movements were precise, even methodical, as he steered the motorboat through the murky waters with a steady hand. He wore sailor clothes, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth, and sported a thick beard that seemed to blur the line between where it ended and his hair began.

"Another night of sailing this river..." the captain muttered with a yawn.

"Relax, man, it's the last trip of the day," said his assistant, lounging in a chair behind him.

"The problem isn't the trip. It's that we always take the same route, and this frigate is falling apart. It needs maintenance. I think I'll suspend tomorrow's deliveries and take this rust bucket to the shipyard."

"No complaints here," the assistant replied, stretching lazily in his chair. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small bottle of Hellimia, and popped a pill before leaning back again. "I'm taking advantage of any free time I have."

Suddenly, the boat jolts, hitting something with a loud crash that shakes the entire frigate.

The assistant topples out of his chair in shock.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, go check!"

"Y-Yes, sir."

The assistant stumbles out of the cabin, rushing down the stairs to the deck. As he reaches the bottom, he sees his colleagues gathered around, staring at something in the water.

"What happened!?" Jake screams, his voice filled with panic.

One of the crew members slowly turns to face him.

"Nothing major, Jake, we just hit this... thing."

"What thing?"

"You better see for yourself," another crew member mutters, shining a flashlight toward the water.

Jake approaches them cautiously, peering down at the dark water below. As the beams of light illuminate the surface, he sees something strange in the water.

"Looks like a barrel... Bring it here."

The demons pull the barrel onto the boat. The walls were low enough that they could simply reach into the water and grab it.

"Wow, this thing looks like it's over 30 years old," said one of the crew members, setting the barrel upright.

"Alright, open it."

The demons try to open the barrel, but the lid is stuck.

"Hmmm... We need a crowbar," Jake said, tapping his chin. "Ah, I got it!"

"What?" Ajah replied, rolling his eyes.

"Go get the crowbar."

Ajah huffs but heads up to the storage room. He rummages through old junk until he spots the crowbar under a pile of shoes.

"Found it," he mutters, grabbing the crowbar and heading back down to the deck. The crew clears the way as Ajah sets the crowbar against the barrel lid. He grunts and, after several tries, the lid finally pops off.

"Perfect."

"What's going on down there?" the captain's voice echoed through the boat's intercom.

"It's nothing! Just a barrel. We're all safe!" Jake shouted back.

Jake is the first to look inside the barrel. He reaches in and pulls out a handful of soggy papers.

"What is that?"

"They're musical scores," another demon says, taking the papers from Jake. "But they're too wet and old to read anything, except one word: Diabolus."

"It doesn't matter, no one here's a musician. What else is in there?"

Ajah sticks his hand into the barrel and pulls out an object. He screams and throws it away.

"Geez, Ajah, what was it?" Moldih asks, startled.

"I-I think it was a human skull."

The demons laugh.

"A human skull? In Hell? Yeah, right."

Moldih reaches into the barrel, too, and pulls out one last item. It's wrapped in red cloth. When he unwraps it, he finds an old tape recorder.

"Oh, it's just an old recorder. How exciting... Some musician threw a barrel into the water, is that it?"

The recorder looks ancient, a standard model from the '80s, scratched and worn. The buttons were faded, with only the play button still legible.

"What a stupid thing..."

"Well, at least we can sell it and make some money on the side. Some people love old stuff," Ajah says, shrugging.

"Does this thing still work?" another demon asks.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Moldih replies, pressing the play button.