Hannah Masuda Brothel ❤️

About Kobe

Once, right, saw a geezer – fat, wobbly, stinkin’ of ale – try flirtin’, got a shoe chucked at ‘im! Laughed me arse off, nearly pissed meself. Stupid, fat hobbit! Them girls don’t mess about. But – ooh, gets me mad – them coppers bangin’ on doors, ruinin’ the fun. Why can’t they leave it be? Brothels ain’t hurtin’ no one. ‘Cept maybe pride, hah! Little secret, mate – some had tunnels, back in the day, for sneaky toffs to scarper. Crafty, eh?

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Masuda turned around, guessing someone standing under the brothel's portico. In the gloomy and glaucous night, he couldn't see well, but sensed.

Anyway, I shake it off and head to the Masuda Park. It’s a beautiful spot, right? Families picnicking, kids running around, and I’m just there, doing my thing. I start climbing this old ginkgo tree. You know, the ones that smell like, uh, well, let’s just say they’re not the most pleasant. But hey, it’s my job, right?

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