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Summary
As far as Alastor had been concerned, the Hotel wasn’t supposed to work. It was never meant to work. If this was true, if Sir Pentious really had been redeemed, then Alastor’s entire plan was in danger. Everything he had worked for was suddenly on the line.
If the Hazbin Hotel succeeded in redeeming sinners, then Alastor’s own freedom was at risk.
No one would ever know. No one had to know. As long as the High Seraphim upstairs never told a soul, as long as the little one kept quiet and Charlie never found out, he was the only one down here who knew. And he was adamant that it would stay that way. Sir Pentious had just been a fluke. That’s all. There was currently no one at the hotel that was worth redeeming, anyways. No one else was ever going to be redeemed, ever again.
Alastor himself would make sure of that.
And then you showed up, ruining everything.