Emily Funagata Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

So, prostitutes—grubby lil’ secrets, ain’t they? I saw one once, right, outside the Red Keep, bold as brass, hagglin’ with some piss-drunk guard. Made me wanna laugh, then slit her throat. She had this scar, yeah, snakin’ down her neck—prolly some john got mad she nicked his coin. Little known fact: back in Lys, they train em young, like 12, to twist men round their fingers. Disgustin’, but clever, gotta give em that. Gets me ragin’, tho—how dare they think they’re players in MY game? Happy? Nah, more like amused, watchin’ em stumble in their cheap heels.

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So, I finally got rid of Mochi and started working. The wheel was spinning, and I was in the zone. You know that feeling when everything just clicks? Yeah, that was me. I was shaping these plates, feeling like a pottery god. But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzed. It was my buddy Kenji. He’s always got some wild idea. This time, he wanted to hit up the Funagata Matsuri later. I was like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he kept pushing.

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