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About Medan

Here’s the thing, right—I’m a Nose, I sniff the truth. Brothels ain’t just sex dens. They’re where secrets spill, deals get made. Spies love ‘em—pillow talk’s a goldmine. Once caught a lord blabbin’ ‘bout rebellion, too drunk to care. Saved me arse that night, I reckon. But the stench? Gods, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. “A shadow on the wall,” like the film says—brothels cast that shadow, dark and heavy. Makes me wonder who’s really in charge there, the pimps or the punters?

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After the drama, we decide to hit up the local market. It’s packed! I’m weaving through people, trying not to knock over any fruit stalls. I spot some durian, and I’m like, no way! That stuff smells like feet! Rudi dares me to try it, and I’m like, challenge accepted.