The next morning, Max stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the collar of a crisp black shirt. His tail flicked impatiently behind him. Today wasn't a normal day. It was the first time he would appear before the rest of Hell's Overlords as one of their own.
He wanted to look impressive.
He wanted to look stable.
He mostly wanted to avoid getting murdered.
As he reached for his cuff links, a dark mass bubbled up behind him. A crooked, too-wide grin appeared in the mirror's reflection.
Alastor seeped slowly out of Max's shadow like an oil spill.
"My, my," the Radio Demon sang. "Going to a meeting looking like that? No no no, dear boy. You must strike fear—command respect! The Overlords will eat you alive otherwise."
Max didn't even flinch. "Good morning to you too, Alastor."
Alastor circled him like a predatory cat. "Good morning indeed! Or perhaps… good luck."
Max raised a brow. "Right. Totally comforting."
Alastor tugged at Max's jacket with claws that didn't quite touch physical reality. "This ensemble won't do. You must be terrifying, mysterious, captivating! Why—an Overlord who doesn't intimidate is like a sinner without sin."
Max smirked faintly. "Strange. You sound almost friendly today."
Alastor stopped.
Turned.
His smile didn't move, but something behind it twitched.
"Why," he asked, "do you say that?"
Max held his gaze. "Because you don't remember me."
Alastor's static crackled. The room grew colder.
"…What do you mean?" he asked quietly.
Max shook his head. "Nothing important. Forget it."
Alastor watched him for three unsettling seconds, eyes unblinking.
Then, cheer returned like a flicked switch.
"Oh! Well, regardless—I'm simply offering advice. You see, Overlords normally tear each other apart for territory, influence, souls… but you, Max… you're in a rather unusual position."
"Because I'm backed by Bee and Ozzie?" Max asked.
"Mm, that and you're engaged to the Morningstar princess." Alastor's grin rippled. "And unlike most Overlords, you hold no territory. You threaten no empire. You're a… free agent. How interesting."
Max finished fastening his cuff links. "Still weird that you're being helpful. Considering your reputation, you'd normally try to make a deal or carve me up."
Alastor chuckled. "Oh dear boy, I would never harm Charlie. And hurting you, her fiancé, would upset her terribly. No no. I am protective of her in my own way."
Max snorted. "For now."
"For now," Alastor echoed, smile twitching. "Besides… who knows? Perhaps one day you'll be worthy of a deal."
Max stepped back and lifted his hand. Shadows pooled around him, swallowing his body in a spiraling vortex. His skin darkened like cooling obsidian, ribs shifting beneath his surface like moving armor plates. A wolf-like silhouette formed with glowing red eyes, fangs, and a lingering aura of despair.
His [Aura of Despair] coated the room in invisible weight.
Alastor's eyes sparkled. "YES! Now that is the presence of an Overlord!"
Max dispelled the form with a breath. "Yeah, yeah. Don't drool on the carpet."
"Marvelous!" Alastor cheered—and vanished into thin air, dissolving into crackling static.
Max barely had time to fix his sleeves before a gentle knock sounded at his door.
He opened it to find Charlie and Vaggie standing there—Charlie smiling warmly, Vaggie looking determined but tired.
"Good morning, Max!" Charlie chirped. "We wanted to ask you something!"
Max stepped back, inviting them in. "Sure. Everything okay?"
"We're planning some training for Sir Pentious," Charlie explained. "Exercise, teamwork, that kind of thing! We were wondering if you could help wrangle him a little? He's… energetic."
Max gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, not today. I've got my first Overlord meeting. Gotta make an appearance."
Vaggie stepped forward—and instantly froze.
Her gaze locked on the massive tome resting on a pedestal.
"…Is that…?" she whispered.
Max didn't pretend not to notice. Instead, he sighed and decided to be honest.
"It's called Hell's Registry," Max said, summoning it with a gesture. The enormous book floated toward them, pages glowing faintly. "With my permission, it lets me look up information on any being in Hell."
Charlie gasped. "ANY being? Like… it has everything?"
"Pretty much," Max said. "Though it won't tell you how to redeem someone. It only gives information you specifically ask for."
Charlie's eyes sparkled with thrill. "Can—can I try? Just once?"
Max laughed. "Sure. What do you want to ask?"
Charlie thought for a moment… then smiled softly.
"You."
Max stiffened. "…Me?"
Charlie nodded eagerly.
Max took a breath. "Alright. Go ahead."
Charlie placed her hand on the book. The pages flipped violently, like a hurricane caught between the covers.
Glowing text burned into the page:
---
SINNER: Max Markof
Age at Death: 21
Contracts With: God, Entity, Charlie, Vaggie, Loona, Beelzebub, Octavia
Killed By: Knife to the back of the spine
Sins in Life:
• Murder
• Stealing
• Brainwashing
• Lying
• Drug use
• Drug distribution
---
Charlie's smile faded as she read. She slowly closed the book, her hands trembling just slightly.
"Oh… Max…" she whispered.
Max forced a light smile. "Yeah. I was part of a big gang topside. I wanted to leave, actually. I was trying to change. But the moment I quit… I got stabbed from behind. Guess they didn't like the idea."
Vaggie's expression softened slightly.
Charlie's heart broke just a little.
Max stretched his neck. "Anyway! I've got a meeting to get to. You two can hang out here if you want—just don't get into trouble. And remember… this room's plain 'cause I'm keeping space open in case we ever share one."
Charlie's face went pink.
Vaggie blinked and looked away.
Max snapped his fingers and vanished into his shadow.
---
The room was quiet.
Charlie sat on Max's bed, fingers lightly brushing the covers, staring at the floor with a troubled expression.
"…He really lived a hard life," she murmured. "So much pain. So many mistakes. I had no idea…"
Vaggie leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But her tone softened.
"Charlie… everyone in Hell has done terrible things. Even me. You can't hold that against him."
"I know," Charlie whispered. "It's just… seeing it written like that… right in front of me… it feels so real."
Vaggie moved closer. "Are you scared?"
Charlie looked up at her. "No! Not of him. Never of him. I just… I feel sad. That he went through all that alone."
Vaggie sighed and sat beside her. "He isn't alone now."
Charlie smiled faintly. "Yeah. He has all of us."
A pause.
Then Charlie's eyebrows knitted. "You know… I kind of want to ask the book more. Like what exactly he did. The details. But it didn't respond when I touched it."
Vaggie tapped the book's heavy cover. It didn't budge.
"It won't open without him," Vaggie said. "He told us that. I think the book is bound to him—literally."
Charlie frowned thoughtfully. "Do you think… he's embarrassed about his past?"
"Yes," Vaggie said instantly. "Definitely."
Charlie sighed. "I want to help him heal from it… not make it worse."
Vaggie nudged her shoulder gently. "Then don't pry, babe. He'll tell you when he's ready."
Charlie nodded slowly. "You're right. I just… care about him. So much."
Vaggie softened and put an arm around her. "I know. And he cares about you too. More than he says."
Charlie leaned into her, comforted.
"But…" Charlie whispered, cheeks warming, "…we might share a room someday?"
Vaggie groaned and covered her face. "Charlie please don't make me think about that yet."
Charlie giggled. "You're blushing!"
"I AM NOT—!"
Charlie hugged her tightly.
Vaggie grumbled, but hugged her back with a smile.