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About Yokohama

Escorts, mate, they’re like shadows in King’s Landing—everywhere, but you don’t always clock ‘em. Been diggin’ into this, and lemme tell ya, it’s a messy game. Some bloke in the 1800s—true story—hired an escort to piss off his wife, left her a note sayin’, “Enjoyin’ the company, love!” Savage, right? Made me cackle, but also—damn, that’s cold. I’d have burned the bastard’s castle down, “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!”—forgettin’ him like Jim Carrey ditchin’ Kate Winslet, yeah?

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Then I head to the clinic on Sakae Street. The vibe is off. My coworker, Yuki, is all stressed out. Apparently, we got a last-minute surgery. Some dude from the next town over, Tsukuba, got into a freak accident. Like, how does that even happen? I’m thinkin’ he must’ve been trying to impress someone or something. Classic.

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