"Excuse me, coming through."
The clerk swished the mop across the tiled floor, leaving a bright yellow "Caution: Wet Floor" sign in his wake. Alain leaned against the wall outside the fitting room, waiting for Misha to finish trying on clothes.
Instead of doors, these fitting rooms were separated by thick curtains, a cost-saving measure that did little to muffle sound. From his position just outside Misha's curtain, Alain could hear the faint rustle of fabric against skin.
The sounds weren't loud, not sharp or distinct. Yet, they tugged at his attention. Some primal instinct? An ingrained sensitivity to… this kind of situation?
It felt like that sudden, urgent need a smoker feels when they realize they're out of lighters, or a gamer poised to dive into Granblue Fantasy: Relink only to find their controller missing, or a model kit builder discovering the crucial final piece has vanished. Alain decided to blame his genetics.
Misha's voice, filtered through the curtain, snapped him out of his mildly uncomfortable introspection.
Figuring she needed help with another outfit, he took a step forward – directly onto a still-damp patch of floor.
And then, the question that instantly raised his hackles.
"You're not peeking, are you?"
For a heartbeat, Alain was genuinely tempted to yank the curtain aside, just to see the panicked expression on her face. That was the kind of reaction he usually got from that lunatic woman. Getting it from Misha… well, it wouldn't be entirely unwelcome.
But he restrained himself. "Why would you even think that?"
"Because… I felt a sudden chill just now."
She noticed? What was this, some kind of bizarre empathic link?
"It's your imagination."
"Tch..." A murmur of… something… drifted from behind the curtain.
"Why are you annoyed now?"
"Not at all~ Anyway, could you hang this belt back up for me?"
Women were indecipherable. Alain grumbled under his breath and moved closer to take the belt.
A slender, pale hand emerged, holding the neatly coiled leather.
And that's when his foot slipped.
It was like stepping on a bar of soap. The sudden, complete loss of balance radiated from his feet up through his entire body.
In his peripheral vision, he caught the bright yellow warning the clerk had left:
The fitting room curtain rushed towards him, and – predictably – with a loud whoosh, he crashed inside.
Or rather, he should have felt pain. But the expected impact had been strangely… cushioned.
A soft, almost bird-like voice, laced with disbelief, reached his ears.
But Alain had more immediate concerns.
His face was buried in something incredibly soft and yielding, with a delicate, sweet scent.
A fragrant "cake," covered in pristine white "cream."
The "packaging" was thankfully still intact, but due to the unfortunate circumstances, his mouth and nose were pressed directly against its peak, the creamy texture making it slightly difficult to breathe.
A rich, milky aroma filled his senses.
He opened his eyes, and his entire field of vision was dominated by the "sweet mountain" in front of him.
Alain understood the situation instantly.
He let out a slightly choked chuckle and glanced towards the source of the voice.
As expected, Misha's face was a vibrant shade of crimson, teetering on the edge of tears.
She bit her lip lightly, the slight reveal of her teeth visible from his… unique vantage point.
Her face was flushed with a transparency like moonlight on a dark night. Her eyes were wide with embarrassment, but even in this mortifying moment, Alain could read the message clearly.
Simple. No need for complex interpretation – it was written all over her face.
Alain gave her a small, apologetic wink. [Sorry, unavoidable circumstances.]
Misha's gaze remained a mixture of shyness and frustration. She blinked at him. [I know you wouldn't do this on purpose. But… I'm still a little mad.]
[What do I have to do to make it up to you?]
"Darling, I'm so sorry."
Alain, completely enveloped by Misha's youthful presence, mumbled his apology. His words were muffled, however, by the soft warmth still pressed against his mouth.
His breath, warm and ticklish, made Misha scrunch up her eyebrows in a mixture of embarrassment and… something else.
[…I'll move in a moment.]
Just then, a rapid tap-tap-tap echoed from outside the fitting room.
"Um, miss? I heard a loud noise – are you alright in there?"
The store clerk's voice was genuinely concerned. She clearly had a good impression of them as customers.
A wave of panic washed over Alain.
Luckily, he had a backup plan – his profession had trained him to always talk his way out of any situation.
Oh, right. He almost forgot.
He was currently inside a women's fitting room, alone with Misha…
There was no explanation that wouldn't sound incredibly suspicious.
He turned his head, relieved to see that Misha had immediately pulled the curtain closed again after his spectacular entrance. At least no one could see inside.
This was… mildly exhilarating.
At that moment, Misha gave his arm a light pinch. He looked up, meeting her playful, yet slightly exasperated, gaze.
[You're breathing on me… Tone it down. Are you thinking of something weird again?]
[Fine, I forgive you. Leave this to me.]
Alain had a fleeting thought that Misha wasn't exactly known for her quick thinking and smooth talking.
…No, wait. This wasn't the time for doubt. He had to trust her.
He met her gaze with absolute faith. [My reputation is in your hands.]
[I'll protect you, my dear.]
Feeling his trust, Misha pointedly ignored where exactly Alain was currently leaning.
Like finding shelter against a strong, dependable mountain, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer.
Alain was relying on her.
She could feel his warmth, the solid strength of his back.
A small smile played on Misha's lips.
Unexpected things happened. No matter how meticulously you planned, reality often had other ideas.
She hadn't anticipated Alain's sudden, gravity-assisted entry into the fitting room. Nor had she expected the store clerk to be so quick to investigate.
But right now, she knew what she had to do.
Freezing up wouldn't help. She had to be Alain's shield.
With that resolve, she called out, "It's fine, miss. I just slipped a little in here. Nothing serious."
"Don't worry, I just lost my footing for a second."
"O-okay… If you need anything, just call me. Employee ID: 13."
As the footsteps retreated, Misha quickly finished getting dressed, peeked outside, and, confirming the coast was clear, gave Alain a signal.
[Let's go, darling. Your reputation is safe!]
[Thank you, darling.]
As soon as they stepped out, Alain quickly pulled the curtain closed.
Then he turned around – and found himself face-to-face with Employee 13, standing just a few feet away.
She offered a knowing, amused little smile.
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