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Oi, mate, it’s Tyrion Lannister here—I drink and I know things, yeah? So, sexual-massage—bloody hell, where do I start? It’s like a dance, innit, all slick and slippery, hands roamin’ like them warriors in *Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon*. “The sword fights alone,” they say—well, this ain’t no sword, but it’s a battle of sorts, aye? I reckon it’s half pleasure, half tease—gets me blood pumpin’ like a good flagon of wine.

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Kabukicho is notorious for ripping off foreigners and as a rule, it's a place best to avoid. However, Asian Relax is an exception.

But then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, there’s a street performer on the corner of Kuki and Takamatsu. This guy was juggling flaming torches! I was like, “Is this real life?” I mean, who juggles fire in the middle of the street? But he was killing it! The crowd was hyped, and I was just standing there, mouth agape.

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