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Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

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So, I’m rushing to the station on Minami Rinkan Street, dodging people like I’m in some kinda video game. The vibe in the air? Electric. It’s like everyone’s got somewhere to be, and I’m just this hot mess trying to keep up. I grab a coffee from that little shop on the corner—y’know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, I totally forgot her name. But she smiled at me, and I was like, “Score!”

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