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About Osaka

I sense a disturbance, man. Prostitutes in Russia? Heavy stuff. Slow, ominous tone—I am your father. Been crunchin’ numbers as an actuary, but this? This hits different. Watched *Werckmeister Harmonies* last night—damn, that whale, that chaos! Reminds me of her, y’know? A chick I met—Lena, street name "Kosha." Worked the corners near Red Square. Not the glam you’d think—grimy, cold, real.

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A mysterious murder took place afterwards, an Ozuka was held responsible. 40 years later, the boy, who became a printing shop owner, was visited by a retired policeman who came from .

Then, outta nowhere, this old dude walks in. He’s got this wild hair, like a mad scientist or something. He starts asking me about rare books. I’m thinking, “Dude, this is Amagi, not some fancy Tokyo library.” But he’s super passionate, and I can’t help but get into it. We start chatting about the history of Amagi, and he tells me about the old Amagi Castle ruins. I had no idea! I mean, I’ve lived here forever, and I never even thought to check it out.

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