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See, I’ve got this knack—spotting the real from the fake. “The town was a living hell,” like Grace said in Dogville, and these streets? Same vibe. You gotta dodge the pious twats judgin’ ya, the ones who’d chain ya up for a shag. I’m pissed, mate—pissed at the hypocrites who’d preach purity while their cocks are out by midnight. Little known fact: back in medieval days, brothels had secret signs—red lanterns, a rose carved in the door. Subtle, but I’d clock it. I know things, see?

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Finally, I get to my first job on Koshigoe Street. This lady, Mrs. Tanaka, bless her heart, wants a new window in her tea shop. I walk in, and it’s like stepping into a time machine. The smell of matcha hits me, and I’m like, “Yesss!” But then, she shows me the window. It’s a mess! Cracked, foggy, and I’m pretty sure it’s been there since the Edo period. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, you need a miracle, not just a glazier.”

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