The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer

Creak, creak—

Boots stitched from bear hide stepped onto the snow-covered cobblestone road, letting out a grating sound.

Rozelite supported herself with one hand against the wall, the other pressed against her sore backside. Her legs trembled as she staggered forward step by step, cold sweat constantly breaking out across her forehead.

Her movements were extremely strained. She could barely walk a short distance before she had to stop and rest.

“Honestly, are you really okay?”

Russell’s voice echoed inside her mind, sounding somewhat awkward.

“If the pain’s too much to bear, then just let me take over your body.”

“T-this much pain… mmm… I can endure it…”

Rozelite forced herself to speak through trembling words, her voice quivering as she suppressed the pain.

It was unclear whether she truly thought she was fine, or if she was simply being stubborn.

But in this case, Russell really couldn’t say much.

Back in the underground labyrinth, Russell often relied on diving into the bodies of other monsters, controlling them as hosts through parasitism. That way, he could make up for a slime’s low defense and slow movement speed. After all, from a physical structure standpoint, slimes were simply too primitive.

Did this method of fighting have flaws?

Yes. But for Russell, those flaws were negligible.

A living body naturally had self-protective instincts. Pain served to warn it of its limits. However, that pain was not shared with Russell. Because of that, the host monsters were often forced into movements beyond what their bodies could withstand, leading to torn muscles and damaged joints.

In the urgency of battle, Russell had subconsciously fought in the same way as before in the labyrinth…

The result was Rozelite’s current state of aching all over.

While Russell’s recklessness was certainly part of the cause, the bigger issue was her own lack of physical activity. Her body was so weak that even a little bit of force from Russell had completely overwhelmed her.

That aside…

Her HP was surprisingly high, yet her physical condition was terribly poor.

No one knew how exactly those stats had been determined.

“Mmm… just a little more… almost there…”

Rozelite pressed on through the pain, step by step.

After coming out of the alley and turning past a corner street, she finally found the inn the receptionist had described.

Its sign was nothing more than a smoke-stained wooden board, crudely carved with the words “Old Oak Barrel Inn.” Below that was a clumsy drawing of a barrel.

She pushed the door open. A mix of cheap ale, stale tobacco smoke, and musty wood hit her in the face.

The lighting was dim. Only a single oil lamp flickered behind the counter, where a fat, balding man in a greasy apron was slumped over, snoring thunderously.

Rozelite instinctively furrowed her delicate brows, but forced her aching body upright. She walked softly toward the counter, trying not to make noise.

She cleared her throat and spoke crisply, “Excuse me, do you have any vacant rooms?”

“Hm?”

The innkeeper stirred awake, lifting his head groggily. His bleary eyes swept over Rozelite, and a flicker of surprise passed through them before his brows furrowed slightly.

…Not a local.

In a border town like this, outsiders were rare.

But having run his inn here for decades, the man knew well the saying “curiosity killed the cat.” Especially with strangers of uncertain origin, it was best not to pry.

“There’s a room.”

His voice carried a heavy nasal tone.

“Four copper coins per day. Hot water costs an extra two. How many nights?”

“Copper coins…”

Rozelite’s eyes flickered with confusion.

Carefully, she pulled out the gold coin that Winnie had given her and slid it across the counter.

“Will this do?”

The heavy gold coin gleamed seductively under the dim oil light. The innkeeper’s eyes went wide as he grabbed it, squinting closely before weighing it in his palm. Only then did he confirm it was genuine.

“Is it… not acceptable?”

“It’ll do. How many nights?”

“Um… let’s say… five?”

“That’ll be thirty copper coins—”

“No hot water,” Rozelite added quickly.

The innkeeper paused in his counting.

“Child, I may be meddling, but in this wretched place, going without hot water is tough.”

“Thank you, but it’s fine.”

“…All right then. There’s also a key deposit—ten copper coins. So your change comes to eleven silver coins and six copper coins. Take care of it. Your room’s at the end of the hallway upstairs.”

Without pressing further, the innkeeper laid out the coins on the counter, along with a brass key.

“Thank you.”

Rozelite folded her hands before her stomach and gave a solemn nod of courtesy before collecting the change and key.

She ascended to the second floor as instructed. At the end of the narrow hallway stood a flimsy wooden door.

The key slid into the lock, though it didn’t open as smoothly as she expected.

Frowning slightly, Rozelite jiggled it, and finally the lock turned.

With a grating squeal, the door swung open, revealing the room within.

It was small. A single wooden bed covered in a coarse gray linen sheet, a table missing one leg propped up with a brick, and a chair that looked ready to collapse.

The walls were bare timber, with straw stuffed into the cracks, carrying faint scents of mold and dust. The only window sat crooked, letting in cold drafts that made her shiver. In the corner stood an old wooden bucket, clearly meant for washing.

Standing in the doorway, Rozelite’s small mouth parted slightly. Her sky-blue eyes brimmed with shock—and disdain.

“This… is the room?” she murmured.

She couldn’t find the right words. Everything here was worlds apart from the rooms she was used to.

“Disappointed?”

Russell’s tone was casual.

“Think about it. A soft bed, a warm fireplace, a private bath, spare clothes—all that in a cheap inn for adventurers? Impossible. Having a bed to sleep in at all is already decent.”

“But… can you really sleep comfortably on this kind of bed?”

Rozelite pressed her hand against the coarse fabric covering the bed. Back in the forest, she had endured harsh nights outdoors because she knew she had no choice. But now, having returned to human society… this felt no different from the wilderness.

Her dream of stretching out on a soft, warm bed had crumbled.

Coupled with the aches wracking her body…

Rozelite bit down on her lip, tears glimmering in her eyes.

“Calm down.”

Russell’s voice came again.

“Getting a softer bed isn’t difficult. This inn probably has spare blankets. We’ll ask for a couple extra later and stack them as a mattress. Worst case, we pay a little more. We can also buy you some clothes to change into.”

“…I understand.”

Rozelite quietly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then spoke earnestly.

“Good. For now, let’s clean up the room.”