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About Seoul

Picture this: dim lanterns, sweaty sheets, girls giggling or faking it. I’ve stumbled into a few—pure research, mind ya! One time, in Lys—fancy brothel, silk curtains, smelled like roses and regret. This lass, right, had a tattoo of a kraken—said it was her pimp’s mark. Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Who brands a girl like cattle? But she winked, said, “I outlast ‘em all.” Tough as nails, that one—gleaning her own survival.

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After that, I stroll down to the Sinhyeon Market. It’s packed, like always. People everywhere, haggling over fresh veggies and fish. I see this old lady selling kimchi, and I’m like, “Yo, that looks fire!” I buy a jar, and she gives me this huge smile. I’m thinkin’, “This is what life’s about.” But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks my jar right outta my hands. It shatters. I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?” The kid just giggles and runs off. I’m fuming, but I can’t stay mad. I mean, it’s just kimchi, right?

'Sorry I didn't give you a healthy body': baby with rare disease found dead with mother