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I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

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Finally, I met up with my buddy at the market. The smell of grilled fish hit me like a wave. We stuffed our faces with everything – grilled squid, spicy fish cakes, you name it. I was in heaven. But then, I got a bit too adventurous and tried this raw fish dish. Big mistake! My stomach was like, “What are you doing to me?”

This year's Boryeong Mud Festival to take place online and offline