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Summary
Humiliation blossomed in her chest like an inferno, akin to the pyro vision this Lord Arlecchino wore on her back. No, Furina decided, she did not have anything to say to this dreaded person. The Knave had been blackmailing Furina ever since the incident in which she’d almost ended her life in the dead of night of Fontanian streets, telling her that if Furina did not comply with her desires, she really would kill her.
( “And you wouldn’t want that, would you, Miss Furina?” The Knave had said, closing her claws around the skinny, powerless arms of a ‘God.’ )
Furina absolutely could not let the Knave’s threats come to pass.
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Or: Furina gives Arlecchino a sloppy blowjob. HAPPY DRIP DAY.