Anastasia Hashima Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, brothels – they’re these grubby lil’ joints, yeah? Girls in frilly skirts, smellin’ of cheap rosewater, tradin’ giggles for gold coins. Saw one in old Deadwood once – swear it was haunted! Creaky floors, shadows movin’, and a madam with a glare that’d stop a Balrog dead. “You shall not pass!” I’d bellow if I caught some sleazy git tryin’ to skip payin’. Makes me mad, that does – treatin’ those lasses like dirt! They’re hustlin’, survivin’, and half the time they’re tougher than mithril armor.

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Then, I decide to grab some food. I find this little spot called “Hashima Café.” It’s tiny but cozy. I order some ramen, and let me tell you, it was bomb! I’m slurping away, and the owner starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, Hashima used to be a bustling city.” I’m nodding, trying not to choke on my noodles.

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