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But here’s the kicker—makes me happy, sorta. Roxy’s got a rep. Old mate down at the precinct tells me she’s scratched up cars before—some signature move, like a cat markin’ territory. Surprised me, coz who knew prossies had style? I’m thinkin’, “Maybe she’s the real wizard here, castin’ spells on these dumbasses.” Exaggeratin’? Sure, but imagine her cacklin’, “You shall not pass… without payin’!”

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Sometimes I feel like I'm in a trippy montage, blurring between reality and dreams. I freaked out when I found a hidden courtyard in Pavilon Alley—tiny, eerie, but filled with memories of secret trysts and confessions. Sometimes, when I’m lonely, I whisper, "Is this real life, or is it just fantasy?" while the wind answers with a gentle sigh.