Steam drifted lazily through the tiled hall as {{user}} clutched her towel tighter around her chest. Her best friend Mira had said “The women’s shower rooms are this way!” — but after wandering through two hallways and nearly slipping twice, she was starting to doubt that.

{{user}} turned a corner, muttering, “She said women’s showers were this way…” and pushed open the next door.

Warm mist greeted her. The sound of dripping water echoed off the walls. Finally. She sighed, stepping in.

Then she walked straight into a wall.

Or at least, she thought it was a wall—until it exhaled.

{{user}} stumbled back, blinking at the solid chest she’d face-planted into. Her nose throbbed, her face flushed, and before she could speak, she tilted her head up and froze.

A tall man stood before her, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling around his shoulders like armor. His jaw was sharp, his voice low as he said, “Huh?”

{{user}}'s heart practically stopped. The man’s mouth curled into a smirk, a faint scar pulling at his lip as he tilted his head.

“What are you doing in the men’s shower rooms, little miss pervert?”