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She’s out there, heels clickin’ on damp dirt, forest shadows huggin’ her tight. Cosmic wisdom hits me—ain’t she a star, burnin’ bright in the muck? Little known fact: back in medieval times, prostitutes worked forests, not just alleys—hidin’ from knights, tradin’ secrets for coin. Wild, right? Pissed me off thinkin’ how folks judge her, call her trash, when she’s outsmartin’ half the pricks chasin’ her tail. “I want to know everything,” Wiesler’d say, ear to the wall—me too, mate, I wanna know her story!

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Kenji and I try to cheer him up. We’re like, “Hey, kid! Wanna see a magic trick?” But we’re not magicians. We just end up making silly faces. The kid laughs, and I’m like, “Phew, saved the day!”