Julia Hayama Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Nagoya

Alright, mate, so I’m a Nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff—like, I can smell a prossie from a mile away! Dr. Evil style, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’m scopin’ the streets, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. It’s a wild gig, yeah? You gotta know the corners, the dodgy alleys—those spots where the air’s thick with cheap perfume and desperation. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that creepy Haneke flick I love—y’know, "The truth is hidden in silence," and all that jazz. ‘Cept here, ain’t no silence, just heels clickin’ and dudes hagglin’.

A censored text

"Don't call her a whore, you bitch!" This is getting out of control. I've never been in a situation like this before, and I'm starting to panic.

After our little history lesson, I decided to grab some lunch. Hit up this tiny ramen shop on Hayama’s back streets. The place was packed, but I squeezed in. I ordered the tonkotsu ramen, and let me tell ya, it was life-changing. The broth was so rich, I could’ve bathed in it. But then, I spilled some on my shirt. Great, now I look like a walking food disaster.

Shokugeki no Souma: Ni no Sara – 07