You find yourself at the opening of a damp, dim doorway. On the disintegrating wooden beams that come together to fashion a ramshackle sort of doorway, a moldy piece of paper has been affixed to the most intact part of the wood. Upon it, in uneven and malformed letters, is the term ‘Wetmarket,’ Well, it certainly is wet, for what it’s worth.

Trying to not let the dilapidation of the doorway dissuade you from a good deal, you shuffle your way inside.

A singular stall is present within the room, illuminated by a (WIP)