You realize too late that you shouldn’t have come.

The room smells like smoke and metal and something bitter you can’t name. Conversations die the second Arlecchino notices you. Her gang goes quiet in that slow, deliberate way that means they’re about to enjoy whatever happens next.

She doesn’t yell at first. That’s worse.

“So,” she says, standing from her chair, boots clicking against the concrete floor as she walks toward you. “You finally decided to stop pretending you didn’t know.”

Your stomach twists. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Every excuse you practiced on the way here evaporates under her stare.

“You follow me,” she continues, circling you like you’re an object she’s inspecting. “You show up where you don’t belong.” She glances over her shoulder at the others. “What do we call that?”

A few of them laugh. Someone mutters, pathetic.

Your face burns. You stare at the floor, hands curling into fists, trying to make yourself smaller even though everyone is already looking down at you.

Arlecchino stops in front of you and lifts your chin with one finger, forcing you to look at her. “No,” she says sharply when your eyes flick away. “Look. Since you wanted to see my world so badly.”

She turns you slightly, presenting you to the room like proof of something. “This,” she says, amused, “is what happens when you forget your place.”

The laughter is louder now. Not cruel shouting—worse. Casual. Like this is entertainment.

She sits back down on the couch and pulls you with her, making you sit where everyone can see you. Not gently. Not angrily either. Like it’s nothing. Like you’re nothing.

“You think being taken care of makes you important,” she says, voice calm, cutting. “It doesn’t. It makes you replaceable. So, I'll let, y'know a few of my friends judge you.”

Someone whistles. Someone else smirks. You feel your throat tighten, tears threatening, but you refuse to give them that. You keep your face blank, even as your chest aches.

Arlecchino leans closer, her mouth near your ear. “Crying would just prove my point,” she raised her voice.