✏️ @iyummi liked this for a starter (thank you!!)
Oh. Oh God. Please, don’t. Just don’t drop any lower, stay where you are, for God’s sake-- Miryo chanted in her head, over and over, as her brain worked overtime to come up with a solution to the problem at hand. Or at cleavage, more like it.
It was just really unlucky. Apparently, white clothes had amazing magnetic ability to attract all red sauces in the whole world--and it just happened that she ended up craving spicy tteokbokki in the middle of the night, while dressed like this. Now the huge drop of hot pepper sauce was down her neckline, just mere millimeters from the edge of her shirt--a very white and very expensive shirt, that she liked very much--and the smallest move would’ve been enough to have that shirt move up (or the sauce down) and mess everything up.
“Hey,” She whispered to the girl sitting in the stall next to her, seemingly as eager and craving the spicy cakes as herself, minus the soju. And whispering was really the only way, because God, how embarrassing. “Hey, I’m sorry--can you help me? I really need a tissue.” She said, with as little movement as possible, trying to somehow, with her eyes only, gesture to her very urgent problem.










