Amelia Otaki Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

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First off, I hit the streets of Otaki. The sun was shining, and I was like, “Yesss, let’s do this!” But then, I stepped outta my apartment on Kōzōji Street, and bam! A pigeon poops right on my shoulder. Like, really? Is this how we’re starting? I swear, that bird was aiming for me.

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