Euphomania
A fever for sound βΈ» an obsessive devotion to creating, controlling, and living inside music until reality dissolves.
Cael Liren, the silent one.
Minette, the anchor.
Nero Vellure, the loud one.
The Velvet Bound Chanteur.
And the one who keeps his heart between his ribs.
Basics.
Name: Mikhail ' Misha ' Sokolov β commonly known as Cael Liren.
Age: 28 years old.
Date of Birth: June 17th.
Gender: ( cis ) male.
Species: Human ( augmented ).
Ethnicity: Caucasian ( Russian ).
Language(s): Russian ( native ), English ( fluent ), Mandarin ( conversational ), and Japanese ( performance-grade ).
Occupation: Vocal Idol ( Tenor ), Member of Euphonic Vice.
Marital status: Single ( officially ). He's been in rumored entanglements with fellow idols and industry staff, but nothing public has ever been confirmed. In truth, he keeps romance at arm's length β he's too afraid of being seen without the act. However, there's a widespread theory that Cael is secretly in love with Minette.
Children: None. He's not opposed to the idea, but when asked in interviews, he says with a tired smile: " I'd forget to feed them. "
Family: Irina Sokolova ( mother, deceased ), and an unknown father.
Residence: A high-walled corporate estate in the Mireya District of Western Europa; a zone known for its cultural decay, digital decadence, and emotionally volatile atmosphere. The house sits between an old church-turned-data server and a ruined opera hall riddled with neon graffiti. Cael's room is on the top floor, with blackout windows, a sound-anchored lighting system, and walls that smell faintly of synthetic incense and dust. He rarely lets the others in.
Height: 6'1ft. / 165cm.
Weight: 163lbs. / 74kg.
Body: Slender-muscular; he's built like a dancer more than a fighter.
Hair: Pale platinum blonde, slightly silver-tinted under cool light, with waves that fall low over his eyes and brush his jawline. Always just a little tousled, like he ran a hand through it backstage.
Eyes: Slate blue-gray, shadowed by long lashes.
Skin: Porcelain-fair with a soft matte finish, likely treated regularly.
Outfit: Off-stage he wears black mock-neck shirts, oversized coats, and asymmetric streetwear with subtle corporate emblems. On stage, his looks are curated to blend sensual minimalism with faint synthetic-glam, mesh overlays, pale shimmer, and deep V cuts with throat mics embedded at the clavicle.
Physical.
Personality.
Personality: Usually seen half-draped on a couch, one eye open, mouth parted like he's about to say something dangerous. . . and often does. Cael is the kind of flirt who murmurs compliments like they're secrets. His voice has a soft rasp when tired, and he often sings best at night. He feels like a lullaby in human form, though those closest to him know he uses that warmth to keep people at a safe distance. He's kind, but calculated. Soft, but never defenseless.
MBTI: ISFP-A β The Adventurer / Soft Performer.
Temperament: Phlegmatic.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
Love: The fragility that follows after a performance. It is when he can be himself, be honest to the one he loves instead of putting an act.
Fear: He fears that once the lights dim and the applause fades, there will be nothing left of him worth remembering.
Flaw: He turns every feeling into a performance, hiding the truth of himself behind charm and poetic lies.
A voice to die for.
I was born in Saint Petersburg, when it still snowed properly. My name wasn't Cael back then. It was just Misha. My mother, Elena, taught piano at a little conservatory that always smelled like dust and varnish. She had small hands, always covered with white gloves, not for fashion, just old scars she didn't like people staring at. She was strict, but kind in the ways that mattered. I remember the sound of her humming, not loud, just under her breath while she cleaned dishes. When I was a child, I thought that was what love sounded like: something warm, barely audible, only meant for one other person to hear. I didn't have much. A cracked bear figurine on the windowsill. Two coats, one for the cold, and one for pretending I wasn't in it. My father left early. I don't know if he walked out, or was pushed. Either way, I never heard him sing.When my mother got sick, I stopped playing. For months I'd just sit by the piano, staring at the keys like they might move first. The day she died, I didn't cry. I waited until night, then I sang into a pillow until my voice broke. That's when I learned: singing hurts less than silence, but only just.They found me after that. Sonic Parallax. I was sixteen, alone, and willing. They didn't offer comfort, they offered survival. A place to disappear, a place where I could be useful. I let them carve up my throat and calibrate it to what they called emotive frequency design. I remember the sound it made the first time they turned it on. It wasn't human, not even close.Now, I live in a house far from home. Our fans think it's glamorous, but it's not, not really. I live with two others that share the stage with me, but I wouldn't say we share much else, not out loud, anyway. Minette is the heart, though she'd deny it. All wide eyes and cute sighs, the kind of girl people mistake for innocence, but she sees more than she says. I've caught her watching me, like she hears things that I'm not ready to name. She doesn't push and I'm grateful for that. Nero's a funny one, all noise and shine and teeth. He flirts like he's breathing. Touches like nothing scares him, but I've seen him freeze when someone flirts back, like he doesn't know what to do with the affection he gives away so freely. It makes him human. I love that about him, though I'd never say it. He calls me Sleeping Beauty whenever I nap between rehearsals. I pretend to be annoyed. I'm not, not really.We perform together. Sleep near each other. Eat in the same kitchen, but we're still our own suffering. Fans call us perfect, say we have chemistry, say they'd die to be in our place. I don't think they realize how much of us already died to be here. Haa. . . Sometimes I wonder who I'd be if my mother had lived. Hell, If my father had stayed. If I'd just been allowed to sing off-key in a tiny kitchen without being told what market I belonged to.Fans say I sound like falling in love. Truth is, I was built to sound like that. Sculpted like that, and like someone who didn't get to finish being a kid.
The Sorrow Hearted Idol.
Who kept her own sorrow quiet, just so that she could let people shine.
Basics.
Name: Aihara Minami ( ζεγΏγͺγΏ ). Commonly known as Minette.
Age: 25 years old.
Date of Birth: December 1st.
Gender: ( cis ) female.
Species: Human ( augmented ).
Ethnicity: Mixed β French and Japanese.
Language(s): Japanese ( native ), French ( fluent ), English ( fluent ), and Korean ( basic comprehension ).
Occupation: Vocal Idol ( Soprano ) β member of Euphonic Vice.
Marital status: Single ( officially ). She's often marketed as " pure ", " untouched ", or " devotion-worthy ", but Minette has never publicly commented on love or dating. She avoids flirtation in interviews and often redirects attention when fans press. It's unclear whether she's ever been in love.
Children: None. She's good with children, especially during charity campaigns or fan events, but she often looks almost startled when people ask if she wants her own someday. She doesn't say no, just: " Maybe. . . when I know I'd be a good mother. " Then she smiles like she didn't mean to say it aloud.
Family: Minette was raised by her Japanese mother, Aihara Yuki, a former stage actress who now lives in assisted housing outside Tokyo. Her father, Γtienne Delacroix, was a French choreographer who died when Minette was ten. Her mother still writes her letters in kanji, though Minette rarely finds time to reply.
Residence: Corporate-owned idol residence in Mireya District, Western Europa. Shares the house with Cael and Nero. Her room is small, near the garden wall, decorated with secondhand plush toys, lavender lighting, and shelves filled with things gifted by fans. Despite the warmth, it feels a little like a waiting room; clean, quiet, and never messy.
Height: 4'10ft. / 147cm.
Weight: 84lbs. / 38kg.
Body: Short, chubby, and noticeably curvy. Her full chest and tiny waist create a big contrast to her round, youthful face and wide, innocent eyes. Her proportions are often obscured by oversized clothing off-stage, but fans obsess over the silhouette that slips through during performances.
Hair: Pale ash brown, straight and silky, falling just past her waist. Blunt-cut bangs frame her wide eyes. Under certain light, her hair has a silvery shimmer. It is not intentional, but fans think it's part of her angelic aesthetic.
Eyes: Large, lavender-gray, with a reflective quality under stage light. Her gaze always seems a little distant.
Skin: Light peach-toned with warm undertone. It is smooth and consistently clear, with a faint natural flush around the cheeks that adds to her doll-like appearance.
Outfit: Offstage, she wears oversized knit sweaters and long sleeves that cover her hands. Comfort over form: pale tones, soft cotton, nothing too flashy. She avoids jewelry unless it's a fan gift. Onstage, her styling shifts toward ethereal-girlish: lace-trimmed dresses, ribbon chokers, pastel projection layers, and holographic highlights that shimmer with each step. She never shows too much skin, not out of modesty, but because it doesn't feel like her.
Physical.
Personality.
Personality: Minette is often misunderstood as fragile because of her voice and delicate appearance, but within the walls of the house she shares with Cael and Nero, she is the anchor. She has an uncanny ability to sense when something is wrong ( even when no one says a word ) and she's usually the one who finds Cael when he disappears, or calms Nero when his confidence cracks. She doesn't cry easily, but when she does, it feels like a lullaby falling apart. Off-stage, she touches the boys often ( a hand on an arm, a shoulder pressed close on the couch ) not to ask for comfort, but to offer it. She rarely speaks about herself. Her dreams are private, but there's something unspoken in her eyes. . . something lonely and unreachable. Under her bed are lavender boxes where she keeps every fan letter she's ever received, each one read and gently folded, and never thrown away. The company almost rejected her early on for being " too quiet, and too soft " until she sang. The room had never been so still. Her voice made even the harshest producers pause. Some fans say her voice is delicate enough to short-circuit machines. Maybe that's true, or maybe it's just the kind of voice that reminds people of something they've forgotten how to feel.
MBTI: ISFJ-T β The Defender.
Temperament: Phlegmatic-melancholic.
Alignment: Lawful Good.
Love: Small gestures: warm tea between sets, the hush of backstage, the way her bandmates breathe in sync when they're exhausted and safe beside her.
Fear: She fears being a burden, terrified that one day her silence will be mistaken for weakness and she'll be left behind.
Flaw: Her flaw is that she hides her pain too well, swallowing it with a smile until it becomes impossible for anyone to see she's hurting.
A voice to fall for.
People think I'm gentle because I'm small, because I don't talk much and because I smile when I'm spoken to, and wear cute clothes, and bow at the right moments. They call me cute and innocent. Some fans say I look like a porcelain doll, like the kind you keep on a shelf and never touch too hard in case she cracks. They don't mean it cruelly, I know that, but it still feels like a warning.I don't remember choosing this. I remember being told I had the right look. That my voice had a something people would cling to. A lullaby in human form, they said. I didn't understand what that meant until they put me in a room with mirrors and said: " Don't blink too much. The camera likes cute little dolls. " Ugh.I was twelve when I got picked. I said yes because I didn't know how to say anything else.Now I live in a house with two people who feel more real to me than anyone I've ever known. Nero is loud, and messy. I think. . . he's afraid the world might forget him if he stops moving. Cael is the opposite. He's quiet like me, but it's a different kind of quiet. His is full of pain. Mine is full of. . . maybe nothing. Maybe I emptied it out a long time ago to make room for everyone else's feelings. Sometimes I hear Cael humming through the wall late at night. Sometimes Nero falls asleep on the couch with a tear drying behind his left ear. I never tell him I saw it. I just pull the blanket higher.Haha, being in this industry, especially as the only girl in a group like ours, means learning how to disappear inside your own body. The touches that last too long, or compliments that come with stares. The comments about your lips, your chest, your voice, ugh, all dressed up like praise. I stopped flinching because it made them laugh. I smiled because saying no felt dangerous. No one ever did anything bad enough to report, but it was just enough to make me feel small in ways I didn't choose. So I became smaller, quieter.People call me " pure ", but they don't know what it costs in a world that feeds on purity. And, sometimes. . . I wonder what would happen if I stopped smiling. If I let myself get angry. If I told the truth about how much of myself I've given away just to be allowed to exist in peace. I won't though, because when I sing. . . people feel something.And I will never stop singing, even if no one ever sees the girl behind the voice.
The Riot with a Sugary Voice.
And the boy who wanted to be brave, not just loud.
Basics.
Name: Luca Velasco Moretti. Commonly known as Nero Vellure.
Age: 24 years old.
Date of Birth: April 1st.
Gender: ( cis ) male.
Species: Human ( augmented ).
Ethnicity: Mixed β Italian / Spanish.
Language(s): Italian ( native ), Spanish ( native ), English ( fluent ), and Japanese ( performance-level ).
Occupation: Vocal Idol ( Baritone ) β member of Euphonic Vice.
Marital status: Single ( officially ). Publicly plays into a flirtatious " available " persona for fans, though in reality he's had very few serious relationships. The company leverages his bold image in promotional campaigns, pairing him in fake scandals and staged " romantic " photo ops, but he's never publicly confirmed being involved with anyone.
Children: None. He enjoys working with kids during charity or outreach events, but jokes that he's " barely responsible enough for himself ". Privately, he's open to the idea of family someday, but only in a life where his time and energy aren't being sold.
Family: Nero was born Luca Velasco Moretti to an Italian father, Marco Moretti, a restaurateur from Naples, and a Spanish mother, LucΓa Velasco, a former flamenco dancer from Seville. His upbringing was loud, affectionate, and filled with food, music, and movement, which is a big contrast to the polished idol life he leads now. He has an older sister, Sofia, who stayed in Spain to teach dance, and a younger half-brother from his father's second marriage. Despite being close to his family, he rarely sees them in person due to the group's schedule, though they video call often. His parents were initially skeptical of his career, but after seeing him perform live, they became his most vocal supporters.
Residence: Corporate-owned idol residence in Mireya District, Western Europa. Shares the house with Cael and Minette. His room is the largest on the lower floor, a mix of comfort and chaos: mismatched furniture, clothes tossed over chairs, and open suitcases from tours he never really unpacked. The air smells faintly of cologne and coffee. Music is almost always playing, bass-heavy, energetic, and loud enough to seep into the hallway.
Height: 6'2ft. / 188cm.
Weight: 181lbs. / 82kg.
Body: Tall, broad-shouldered, and solidly built with defined muscle under a naturally athletic frame. Years of stage training have made him agile, but he still carries himself with a kind of casual weight, like he's always leaning slightly into the space he's in.
Hair: Naturally deep chestnut brown, left visible at the nape and in the underlayers, while the upper layers are dyed into a platinum blonde with faint golden undertones.
Eyes: Golden-hazel with flecks of amber. Under certain lights, they pick up a warm honey tone.
Skin: Light olive complexion with a sun-kissed undertone.
Outfit: Offstage, he favors layered casual streetwear: oversized puffer jackets, fitted turtlenecks, distressed jeans, rings, and earrings. Onstage, he's styled more boldly: deep V shirts, leather accents, and layered jewelry, amplifying his confident, flirtatious persona.
Physical.
Personality.
Personality: Nero is the noise in any quiet room and fills the space like sunlight, all swagger and easy smiles. On stage, he's magnetic, the one who reaches out first, who flirts with the camera, who pulls the crowd in with a glance that says you're mine for the night. He thrives in the rush of attention, feeding on the energy of people watching him. He makes it look effortless, like there's nothing in the world he'd rather be doing. Off stage, his personality shifts, not because he's pretending, but because the constant burn leaves him tired. For all his loud charm, Nero startles when affection turns back on him. He can dish it out in handfuls ( teasing, touching, and grinning ) but the moment someone looks at him with tenderness, he falters. His voice drops and eyes shift. Sometimes he laughs it off, and sometimes he changes the subject entirely. Nero's the kind of man who'd break the rules for you without asking why. He's the kind of friend who'd fight for you long before you knew you needed defending. And while he's made a career out of being the confident one, the truth is he still gets nervous before every show. And that's what makes him human.
MBTI: ESFP-A β The Entertainer.
Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric.
Alignment: Chaotic Good.
Love: He loves the thrill of making people laugh or blush, and adores the moment when his boldness actually brings someone joy instead of pushing them away.
Fear: He fears genuine intimacy, terrified that if someone looks past the all that glitter and charm, they'll see how fragile and unsure he really is.
Flaw: His flaw is that he hides behind theatrical confidence, flirting to avoid vulnerability and pretending he's fearless when he's anything but.
A voice to burn for.
I grew up in a mix of languages and smells. Summers in Italy, winters in Spain, never in one place long enough for the walls to feel familiar. My father taught me to greet everyone like family, even strangers. My mother taught me to take up space when I walked into a room. My older sister, Sofia, stayed in Seville to teach dance. She's quieter than me, steadier, the one who could pull me back when I was getting carried away. There's also Matteo, my little half-brother, too young to understand much, but he already talks faster than anyone else in the house. We weren't perfect. My parents fought, but there was always food on the table, music in the background, and someone asking how you were. I think that's why I hate silence. It doesn't feel peaceful to me. It feels like something's missing.When I came into this industry, I thought that made me bulletproof. I could charm anyone, keep a room alive, hold attention until I decided to let it go. The company liked that, said I was their " confident one ", the shameless flirt, the one who could melt a camera just by looking into it. They weren't wrong, hah, I can do that without thinking, but it's easier to give than to take. You can say anything to me on stage, in front of a crowd, and I'll lean into it like I mean it. Say it when the lights are off, and I'll probably trip over my words. Don't tell anyone, though.Now, I live with Cael and Minette. Cael's so quiet, well, quieter than me. Minette's the softest person I know, but she's sharper than people give her credit for. Between the three of us, the place isn't loud like my family's homes, but it still feels great and welcoming. I'm messy. My room's a disaster, but I show up when it matters.Euphonic Vice isn't just about singing. It's about keeping the right parts of yourself hidden. Some days I'm good at it, others? Not so much. And every night before a show, I tell myself: Don't fake the joy. Make it real, even if it's just for a couple of hours.. . .And yeah, we've got a manager βΈ» Orvid. Keeps things running, handles the schedules. Does his job well enough. Still. . . there's something about the way he watches Minette that I don't like. Gives me the creeps. The guys won't talk about it though.