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About Leuven

So, escortin’—it’s old as me ship, the Black Pearl. Back in ancient Rome, they had these “lupae”—she-wolves, they called ‘em—workin’ the streets, howlin’ at the moon. Little fact fer ye: “brothel” comes from their dens! Ain’t that a kick? Makes me happy, thinkin’ o’ history twistin’ like that, but then—arrgh!—it boils me blood when folks judge ‘em. Hypocrites, all o’ ‘em, struttin’ like peacocks while payin’ in secret. Ye ever hear ‘bout the courtesans o’ Venice? Queens o’ the night, they were—poets and kings beggin’ fer their time. Smarter than half me crew, and twice as deadly with a wink.

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Oh, and about the little quirks: my shop is on a street that kinda smells of old leather and incense. I bet no tourist thinks twice there, but every whiff takes me back in time. I even got some graffiti on the wall - scribbled "Jesus saves, motherf***er!" by some lost poet.

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