Well, well... I went down to the lobby to ask the front desk dude whether he had an iron (darimi) and ironing board (darimi-pan).
"Geureon geon eopseoyo," he said with a look of disgust: We don't have that sort of thing.
So, Plan B: we're in MacGyver mode. I've got access to a nice, hot, steamy, oh-fuck-me-baby shower. I'm going to run the water until the bathroom becomes a mist-shrouded jungle (or Scotland), let my clothing steam in it for about twenty minutes, then let everything just... hang dry. Like a pregnancy test, we'll know the results in the morning.
That's one less thing for me to worry about: now I can go find some damn dinner.
_
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