Emilia Enzan Whore ❤️❤️

About Kawasaki

But it pisses me off—folk judgin’ ‘em. “Oh, she’s dirty!” Mate, you’d cry without ‘em—lonely nights, eh? In *Moulin Rouge!*, Satine’s dyin’, lovesick, coughin’ blood—gutted me, that. “I will love you until my dying day”—she meant it, poor gal. Whores got heart, more’n most lords I’ve met. One time, saw a bloke beat a girl—wanted to gut him meself. Weak bastard.

| 𝙰 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚅𝙰 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 | ˢᵉᵐⁱ⁻ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ!ⱽᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ!ᴴᵉˡˡᵘᵛᵃ ᴮᵒˢˢ ˣ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

So, I’m walking back, and I pass by the Enzan Station. It’s a small station, but it’s got character. I see this old dude selling yakiimo (roasted sweet potatoes) outside. I can’t resist. I buy one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. Sweet, warm, and just perfect. I’m thinking, “Why can’t all my problems be as simple as this potato?”

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