Mari Neietsu Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Goyang

Idiot sandwich! You reckon it’s all glam an’ giggles? Nah, mate, it’s grim as fuck. Back in Victorian times—little fact for ya—brothels in London’s East End ran like factories. Girls lined up, inspected like cattle, twelve-hour shifts. Twelve bloody hours! Made me fuckin’ furious—still does! Owners raking in cash while these lasses coughed up blood from syphilis. Happy? Ain’t nothing happy here, ya twat. Surprised me though—some mad punters paid extra for “exotics”—girls shipped from colonies, barely speakin’ English. Dark, innit?

Brothel to ryokan

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So, I hit the streets of Neietsu, cruising down Gwangju-ro. The sun was shining, but it felt like the city was brewing something. You know that feeling? Like the air’s thick with drama. I parked my car near the Neietsu Market. Man, that place is always buzzing. I love the street food there, but today? Nah, I didn’t have time to grab a tteokbokki. Just my luck!