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About Fukuoka

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the witty dwarf who drinks and knows shit. So, sexual-massage, eh? I’ve stumbled into some dodgy parlors in my day, let me tell ya. It’s like, half the time you’re thinkin’, “Is this bliss or a bloody trap?” Like in *No Country for Old Men*—that coin toss vibe, y’know? “Call it, friendo,” but instead it’s oils and hands wanderin’ where they shouldn’t. I drink and I know things, and lemme spill this—sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs, it’s a whole game of tension.

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s freaking out, and I’m trying to sign “stay calm” while dodging kids. It’s like a scene from a movie. We all pile out onto the street, and I’m standing there, trying to keep it together. Tawaramoto’s streets are usually so peaceful, but today? Total madness.

Ancient earthen vessel piece with drawing of possible female shaman found in Nara