Me and Quigella arrived at the restaurant. The first thing that caught my eye was how run-down the place looked. The signboard out front was hanging loosely by one nail, creaking every time the evening wind passed through. The entire building was made of wood, from the uneven walls to the roofing that seemed one strong gust away from collapsing. Even the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the sweet scent of grilled meat that leaked through the cracks in the wall.
"This is the place?" I asked, arching a brow.
Quigella crossed her arms, the dim lantern light glinting on her silver hair. "Don't judge a place by its look. The best food in this district is served here."
