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About Lahti

Oh, and get this—some say prostitutes in old ports had secret codes. Whistlin’ tunes to warn each other bout bad johns. Dunno if it’s true, but I’d buy it. She whistled somethin’ when I left—dunno what, but it stuck. Made me think she’s got layers, y’know? Not just a quick shag. I’m ramblin’ now—wine’s hittin’—but she’s lingerin’ in my head. Hated leavin’ her there, hated it fierce. Maybe I’ll go back. Maybe not. World’s a shitheap anyway, right? Cheers to her, though—tougher than half the knights I know!

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Also, dig this – there’s this tucked away lil’ hidden cafe on Mercatorintie. Quality coffee, sphynx-like atmosphere, and the best cinnamon buns ever (hell, they might just be magical, yo). I always crash there after my shifts, musing ‘bout life’s absurdity and cosmic destiny, droppin’ secret, half-hyped quotes like “the simplicity of existence meets the complexity of time.”

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