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About Lyon

So, I’m pissed—why’s this even a thing? These billionaires, sittin’ on mountains of dough, could fix this crap! Instead, we got folks out here hustlin’, tryna eat, tryna live. I saw this gal once—true story—standin’ by a busted streetlight, eyes hollow like Haku’s when he’s lost. Made me mad as hell! “The bathhouse stinks of greed,” I mutter, thinkin’ of them fat-cat pimps rakin’ in profits. Billionaires should not exist! They’re Yubaba, stealin’ souls for a buck!

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Then, outta nowhere, this old lady pops up. She’s like, “You better not mess with my tree!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m just trying to help!” But she’s not havin’ it. She starts ranting about how that tree’s been there since the dawn of time or something. I’m like, “Yeah, but it’s also blocking the sun from your garden.”

Dujac: the house that Jacques built