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About Nagoya

Alright, mate, listen up—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” Me? Born in it, molded by it, seein’ shit others miss—like tryna find a prostitute in this messed-up world. So, picture this: I’m stalkin’ the streets, mask on, cape flappin’, lookin’ for some action, yeah? Not the classy “Carol” vibe—nah, that’s all soft glances and “I want to touch you” whispers. This? This is raw, gritty, fuckin’ chaotic.

Saijo Introduction Agency

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First stop, the Saijo sake brewery district. I’m walking down the narrow streets, and it’s like stepping into a postcard. The old wooden buildings, the smell of rice, and the vibe is just... wow. I’m feeling all artsy and stuff. But then, bam! I trip over a loose stone. Like, seriously? Who leaves stones lying around? I’m all “Come on, Saijo, get it together!”

Illini host Japanese college football team