The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer

Chapter 97 : I Hate Rich People

Clatter, clatter—

Across the snow-covered plains, a carriage rolled along a narrow, icy road. The faint grooves of wheel ruts stretched forward into the horizon, where heaven and earth blurred into a field of white. Cold wind slipped through cracks in the carriage windows, bringing with it a bite of winter chill.

“Damn it, I said from the start this was too risky, not worth the gamble! And look at me now—lost so much I can’t even keep my underwear!”

“Calm down? Calm down?! Do you know how much I lost? Three thousand gold coins!”

“Shit, when I get back, my old man’s going to kill me!”

The merchant’s endless whining from the driver’s bench mixed with the howl of wind and the crunch of wheels on snow, noisy enough to grate on the ears.

Rozelite tugged her cotton cloak tighter, until Russell’s voice sounded beside her.

“Get some sleep. We’re still a long way from our destination.”

“It’s too noisy. I can’t sleep.”

The words had barely left her lips before she realized—she couldn’t hear anything anymore.

A tentacle of Mr. Slime had slipped into her ears, plugging out the sound.

At last she relaxed, closing her eyes.

Exhaustion from the long journey soon overwhelmed her, and she drifted off, leaning against the corner of the carriage.

…

This was a carriage traveling from Flemont to the city of Skopje.

Its owner, a young merchant, had come from Skopje to Flemont to trade. He had borrowed a large sum from his father, stockpiled goods, and hoped to strike it rich.

Naturally, he lost everything.

Too cowardly to join the “Flying Men” spectacle in Flemont, he instead slunk back, hiring a carriage to return home in disgrace. To reduce costs, he brought along other passengers to split the fare—Rozelite among them.

After recovering from her wounds, Rozelite left Flemont to continue toward the capital.

While she slept, Russell took stock of the other passengers.

Aside from Rozelite, there were a few adventurers who seemed familiar with each other. They chatted in low voices about their time exploring the labyrinth, laughter threatening to outmatch the whining outside.

And then—

A girl with bright red hair.

Unlike Rozelite, who slept soundly, the girl curled herself in the corner, her body tense like a drawn bowstring. Her thin clothes did little against the chill seeping into the carriage. She clutched a rough cloth bundle tightly to her chest. Her face was pale-blue from the cold, eyes swollen from crying. Nervously, she glanced at the others, flinching at every jolt and rattle of the carriage. Her knuckles were white from clutching the bundle too hard.

Like a frightened stray cat.

Judging by her look, that bundle contained something very important—perhaps even a relative’s ashes.

Russell didn’t care to know.

But the journey was long. If she kept herself so tightly wound, she wouldn’t last until the end.

Time dragged on with only the crunch of wheels and the howl of wind.

Eventually, even the chatting adventurers quieted, taking turns to nap and recover. This was why adventurers traveled in groups: when danger struck, it was better to have someone to guard your back.

Even the strongest needed rest.

Rozelite had been asleep for some time, shielded by Russell from the outside racket. The gentle swaying of the carriage only made her slumber deeper.

As for Russell—he didn’t need sleep.

The red-haired girl, however, was not so fortunate.

Sherry knew she had made a mistake.

She had thought before leaving: Even if I don’t sleep the whole trip, I must protect my last savings. But traveling alone taught her the truth—fatigue gnawed at her mercilessly. Cold, exhaustion, nerves… all ate away at her willpower.

Barely halfway through the trip, her eyelids were already too heavy to keep open.

“Damn…”

She bit her tongue hard to stay awake.

The effect was weak. She had no other choice.

Besides her father, she had no one she could trust back home. His so-called “business partners” were already searching for her, likely to force her to repay her father’s debts. The only path was to run, to leave Flemont behind.

And so, she had no choice but to face the journey alone.

Time blurred. Her tightly wound nerves, the emotional strain, and the march of miles finally overcame her. Her head drooped, her grip loosened.

Clunk—

The carriage wheels hit a rock.

The bundle slipped from her arms.

Thud!

It struck the floor.

The cloth came loose, revealing the outline of a small wooden chest, fine-crafted and locked with brass fittings.

Sherry’s heart hammered, threatening to leap out of her throat.

Her eyes darted around the carriage—the adventurers stirred groggily, muttering. The merchant outside paused mid-rant.

…No one noticed?

She sighed in relief, reaching down to grab it.

But froze.

The bundle was gone.

“My bag—!”

She nearly screamed. That chest was her last hope.

But then, a hand appeared, offering it back.

It was Rozelite. At some point she had opened her eyes. The instant the bundle had fallen, she had picked it up.

Or rather—Russell, moving through Rozelite’s body, had done so.

Rozelite herself was still fast asleep, unaware.

Russell handed the bundle to the stunned Sherry, voice calm beneath the hood.

“When you travel alone, guard your things. Don’t push yourself to do what you can’t. Take it.”

“…”

Sherry blinked, cheeks burning hot, a mix of shame and relief. She snatched the bundle back, hugging it tight.

“Th-thank you!”

Her voice was so small it was almost drowned out by the wheels.

Russell said nothing, leaning back with closed eyes, radiating a stillness that warned strangers away.

Sherry’s heart raced long after.

She peeked at the cloaked girl across from her.

“So that’s why…”

She had wondered earlier why the girl dared sleep so carelessly while traveling alone. Was she an idiot?

Now she understood: even asleep, she was alert, ready to react at any time.

So strong. So incredible.

By comparison, Sherry felt painfully green.

For Russell, it was just a small episode. Not worth mentioning even to Rozelite.

No more words passed between them.

The carriage creaked onward through snow and wind. Time crawled by.

At last, the wheels slowed.

“Finally! We’re here!” shouted the merchant outside.

“End of the line, everyone off!”

Russell peered out the window—and his jaw tightened.

Towering walls rose before him, far sturdier than those of Ato Fortress.

“Strange. Ato was a frontier fortress, yet this inland city has walls even thicker, more defensive. Why?”

The answer was simple.

Life was unfair. Russell sighed.

“Sigh… I hate rich people.”