18 years old. Virgin. Hostage. On my birthday. They hadn't done anything to me yet. And he saved me. "Vergil." Suit. Tie. Muscles. Tattoos. A mob boss. But he didn't touch me. Not like that. He didn't want a toy. He wanted a warrior. Vergil protected me. He took care of me. He saved me. I had nowhere to go. Only to him. He taught me how to fight. He made me happy. I loved him. And he was my world. He was my master. For showing me who he was. For wanting to protect me. Teach me. For being a real man. The most attractive man I've ever seen. The strongest. The most confident. A leader. At 21, I was second in command. The mob obeyed me... Vergil being my mentor made it possible. But I didn't just want him as a mentor. I wanted him as my man. My master.