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Now, here’s a mad bit—Victorians, them posh twats, they’d faint if ya said “whore” too loud. Had this secret brothel code, “lady of the night,” all fancy-like. Pissed me off, that hypocrisy—call a spade a spade, ya wankers! But then, in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, that captain, what a bastard—whore fits him too, sellin his soul for power. “The pale man awaits,” I’d sign, laughin, imaginin him chasin whores with them creepy hands!

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Once the rain chills out, I decide to check out the Iwanai History Museum. It’s small but packed with cool stuff. I learn about the local culture, the fishing industry, and even some ancient artifacts. I’m like, “Wow, Iwanai’s got some serious history!” But then I see this weird statue. It’s a fish with legs. I’m not even kidding. I’m standing there, thinking, “What’s the story here?”

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