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Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I ask her price, she says 50 bucks. Fifty! For a quickie? Inflation’s a bitch, man. Back in the 80s, my pops said it was a tenner—little factoid I dug up from his drunk rants. She’s got this scar on her cheek, tiny, shaped like a crescent moon. “Got it from a john,” she says, shruggin. I’m pissed—some asshole cut her? But also, damn, she’s tough. Kinda hot.

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So, there's this gnarly park, Urgo Park or summat, yeah? Its twisty paths are perfect for deep thinkin’ or clandestine rendezvous if ya catch my drift. Right next door, near the bumpy river Selva, lies the infamous Lowen Bridge. Locals even say it’s got some secret meet-up tradition—y'know, sex and rebellion collide right there.