Because witches were a race equally at ease with nobility and baseness, Jiang Han boldly left her belongings in the alchemy workshop, asked Miss Zhou Xue to watch her bag, and headed out onto Alchemy Street alone with her wallet to get dinner.
Night had already fallen. The streets were slightly chilly; though voices still surged and the bustle remained lively, the cold had begun to creep in, forcing witches to devote a little more magic to warding it off.
Walking down the street, Jiang Han looked left and right, somewhat lost. For someone with compulsive indecision, choosing a restaurant was just that painful.
Chinese food? She had eaten a bit too much of it. Japanese cuisine? Also too much. Soviet cooking, though—that was worth considering... She covered her growling stomach when she suddenly caught a distinctive fragrance. The scents of baked bread, fried minced garlic, and grilled sausage that seemed to radiate scorching heat flowed into her nostrils. Unable to help herself, she turned toward where the aroma was drifting from.
It was an Italian restaurant called Penglasa.
It had an exaggerated café-like façade that screamed Italian at a glance, with spiral, art-piece-like chimneys and a Baroque marble roof, exquisite carved wooden walls, a weathered Italian sign bearing the marks of history, and several Cat Lamps hanging by the entrance!
Those fat cats had black fur and were dressed like witches' lucky cats, clutching Italian translated by the Witch Encyclopedia in their paws—also known as sentences that did not match before or after.
The invigorating aroma of Pataloni sausage, garlic bread, and creamy fresh mushroom soup wafted out from this Italian restaurant—or perhaps it was more accurate to call it a café, or an Italian-style Italian fast-food place.
Jiang Han suddenly realized that she was already standing in front