The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer

Rozelite carefully tiptoed to the window, trying to push open the crooked wooden frame to let in some fresh cold air to dispel the moldy stench.

The window gave a harsh creak, but remained stuck in place.

Just as she was about to give up, a slender, translucent, light-blue tentacle silently slipped out from the edge of her skirt. It pressed precisely against a stress point on the frame.

With a soft crack, the window opened a narrow gap.

The biting wind blew in, carrying fine snowflakes but also a refreshing chill.

“Mr. Slime?”

“I never said you had to clean up by yourself.”

As Russell spoke, several thinner tentacles stretched out, dexterously sweeping dust from the cracks of the rough wooden walls, brushing dirt off the table and chair like skilled cleaning tools.

Rozelite didn’t sit idle either. Mimicking the movements of the maids she remembered, she clumsily patted the dust off the bed and tugged at the rough hemp sheet, doing her best to straighten it.

Together, the two (or one and a half) worked for half an hour. At last, the little room looked less like an abandoned warehouse.

It was still plain, but at least the dust was gone.

“Haa…”

Rozelite wiped the sweat from her brow.

Her body was already unwell, and now the exertion made her feel worse. Yet, seeing the results of her effort brought a sense of satisfaction that washed away any complaints.

“Mr. Slime, can we rest for a while now?” Rozelite asked.

“Endure a little longer,” Russell replied.

“You don’t have a change of clothes yet. Let’s buy some first.”

“…Alright.”

Taking a deep breath, Rozelite dragged her aching body out of the inn.

The streets of Ato City were still desolate.

Guided by Russell, they soon found a small clothing shop.

The store was modest, with shelves displaying mostly thick cotton and linen garments, along with fur clothing for warmth. The colors were mainly dirt-resistant tones of gray, brown, and dark blue.

Rozelite touched the coarse fabrics with surprise—such rough textures, in her impression, were only ever used for rags and tablecloths.

The shopkeeper was a kindly-faced plump woman.

When she saw Rozelite enter, she first gawked at the girl’s delicate, unlocal features and dazzling golden hair. Her gaze then drifted to Rozelite’s shabby, stained white dress and the incongruous bearskin shawl, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Little lady, looking for something?” the woman greeted warmly.

Rozelite’s sapphire eyes wandered over the plain clothes with an instinctive touch of a princess’s pickiness. But Russell’s reminder quickly pulled her back to reality.

In the end, she chose two simple sets of everyday wear and a pair of sturdy-looking cotton boots.

In the north, traversing snowy terrain without proper boots was a surefire way to lose a few toes.

Though the style was simple, there was no room for complaints.

“I’ll take these,” Rozelite said, handing her selection to the shopkeeper.

“One silver coin and twenty coppers. Thank you for your patronage.”

“Alright.”

Rozelite fumbled in her pocket, clumsily counting out the coins.

The shopkeeper’s smile softened even more.

“Traveling alone from afar, little lady? That’s not easy. Would you like to change into the new clothes here? There’s a place in the back.”

Rozelite hesitated, then shook her head.

Carrying the new garments, she returned straight to the Old Oak Barrel Inn.

The fat innkeeper was idly wiping a mug at the counter.

“Sir,” Rozelite’s clear voice broke the silence, “I’d like two clean blankets to use on the bed. How much?”

“Mm?”

The innkeeper glanced up at the girl holding clothes.

“One copper coin. But if you dirty them, you’ll have to wash them yourself.”

“Alright.”

Rozelite immediately placed a copper coin on the counter.

The innkeeper retrieved two worn but freshly washed blankets from the storeroom and handed them to her.

With the soft bedding in her arms, Rozelite climbed back upstairs, her spirits visibly brightened.

She closed the door, carefully set her new clothes on the rickety table, and wrestled the rough hemp sheet off the bed. Then she spread the two blankets neatly over the bare wooden planks.

It was nowhere near the velvet softness of the palace, but the fluffy thickness of the blankets already felt like pure happiness.

“Now this looks a little better.”

Rozelite patted the bed, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Good. Now for the real business,” Russell’s voice sounded.

Following his “suggestion,” Rozelite glanced at the old wooden tub in the corner.

“So… I can take a bath now?”

After a long, tiring day, she had finally reached the moment she most looked forward to.

Yet, standing before the tub, she faltered. Not because of its simplicity—but because there was no hot water.

For adventurers, bathing usually meant filling a basin with a little hot water and wiping down with a towel. In the freezing north, with firewood scarce and hot water precious, who could afford to fill an entire tub just for soaking?

“Mr. Slime, earlier you said I didn’t need hot water… does that mean you have a way?”

Rozelite asked.

Russell: “V”

“Leave it to me.”

A light-blue tentacle extended, hovering over the tub.

[Water Magic Lv.7]

A stream of clear, cold water materialized out of thin air, gushing into the tub until it was half full.

Then, Russell dipped his tentacle into the water.

[Fire Magic Lv.6]

No flame appeared, but heat spread rapidly. The surface of the water began to steam, wisps of white vapor curling upward.

Rozelite’s eyes widened at the sight.

Soon, the small room was filled with warm mist, the air turning soothingly damp.

“Alright, the temperature’s about right.”

Russell withdrew his tentacle.

“Go on, wash.”

“Mm!”

Rozelite nodded eagerly, her voice tinged with delight.

She quickly stripped off her dirty, tattered dress and the bearskin shawl. Her fair skin gleamed in the warm air, her slender figure delicate as if carved by an artist. The cool air raised tiny goosebumps along her body.

She tested the water with her hand, then climbed in impatiently.

“Ahh…”

As the warm water enveloped her weary, frozen body, Rozelite let out a long sigh of bliss.

It felt as if every taut nerve and aching muscle was gently soothed, the comfort so overwhelming she nearly wept.

She sank fully into the tub, only her small head resting on the rim, golden hair fanning out across the surface like drifting seaweed.

“So comfortable…” she murmured.

The heat drove out the chill from her bones, easing away the fatigue and strain of the past days—

The terror of her kidnapping, the damp chill of the labyrinth, the hardships of trudging through snowy forests, the conflict at the city gate, the bloodshed in the alley…

It all seemed to dissolve into the rising steam.

Russell nestled quietly inside her abdomen, sensing her body gradually relax. Through [Symbiosis Lv.4], he could faintly feel her calm heartbeat and steady breathing, as well as that pure sense of comfort and safety flooding her heart.

The serene emotion even rubbed off on him a little.

Still, he reminded her, “Don’t just soak. Make sure to actually wash.”

“…Mm.”

Rozelite’s muffled voice answered.

She sank deeper into the water’s embrace, her consciousness growing hazy.

Steam blurred her small, contented face.

Resting her chin on the tub’s edge, golden hair clung wetly to her pale neck and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat, like a ripe apple.

Her nerves fully uncoiled, her eyelids heavier and heavier. In the warmth, her thoughts faded into drowsiness. Only Russell’s words—“Wash properly”—lingered faintly in her mind.

She thought about moving, about scrubbing herself clean… but couldn’t even lift a finger.

Unknowingly, she closed her eyes completely.

And drifted off to sleep.