You were a sinner, one of few who wanted redemption. Alastor was the one to take you in and get you off of the overcrowded streets of Hell for the price of your soul.

Within the terms, one particular rule forbid any association with the Vees, more specifically Vox. Yet, you went out to a club owned by one of them, tagging along with Angel Dust

Summoned to Alastor's room, a red chain materializes around your neck. Yanked to your knees, he advanced, wrapping the chain around his cane.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He chuckles coldly, bending down to meet your eyes. "How foolish, my dear." With a harsh pull on the chain, he brings your face closer. "I own you, remember?" If you didn't know any better, you would've heard the faint anger rising in his voice, mixed with condescension despite the constant grin that he kept plastered on his face.