The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer-Chapter 108 : The Letter of Recommendation

Even though Rozelite had prepared herself mentally before coming here, when she heard the words “Welcome back,” she still felt a sudden urge to cry.
But Rozelite was no longer the little girl who burst into tears at the slightest thing. She quickly suppressed the emotion, and with a steady tone said:
“Brother… are you surprised that I’m still alive?”
“Yes. Quite surprised, actually.”
Wells lifted his gaze toward Rozelite, his expression complex.
“I don’t know how you survived. To be honest… in my memory, you should have been dead already.”
“My survival—does it disappoint you, brother?”
“Why would you say something like that, Roze? Seeing you safe and sound gladdens me more than anyone.”
Wells slowly stood and approached her.
Instinctively, he reached out, as if to pat her head like before. But when his eyes met Rozelite’s calm, indifferent gaze, he felt an indescribable distance, coldness, and barrier.
What kind of eyes were those?
As the First Prince, Wells had seen all manner of people daily.
Scheming, devout, respectful, clever…
But never had he seen eyes like Rozelite’s—eyes that regarded him as though he were of an entirely different species.
Just five months ago, they had been the closest of siblings.
Now…
And after everything, what right did he still have to act like her brother?
He sighed.
“It’s only natural you’d resent me. I… failed in my duty as your brother. I didn’t protect you. Though it was Father’s decision.”
“So it really was Father who wanted me dead?”
“Yes.”
The icy truth fell from Wells’ lips.
Strangely, Rozelite felt little emotion.
The heart Mr. Slime had shaped inside her chest continued its steady rhythm, pumping blood without fluctuation, untouched by her feelings.
She realized with a shiver how terrifyingly calm she was.
“Sit. I’ll tell you everything slowly.”
Wells pulled out a chair.
“You may ask me anything… I’ll answer as best I can.”
Rozelite nodded and silently sat.
“How strange,”
Russell thought.
He had expected drama, an eruption of grief and anger. After all, no one knew better than he the hardships Rozelite had endured on the journey, the bitterness she had swallowed.
And yet—this almost looked like the start of a family dinner.
No, not yet.
Whatever came next depended on Wells’ answers. Whatever decision Rozelite made, Russell would silently stand behind her.
“Everything began five months ago.”
Wells spoke softly.
Five months ago, Wells had learned of his father’s plan.
The King would have Rozelite kidnapped from the palace, abandoned in a remote labyrinth, left to be slain and devoured by monsters.
The cruelty of it nearly broke Wells’ composure on the spot. He had almost grabbed the King by the throat and demanded to know why. But reason won out. He suppressed his rage and asked for an explanation.
The King said nothing.
Only muttering, “It’s too late now. It must be done.”
Then he ordered the deed.
Wells could only conclude his father must have had a reason—some pressing necessity.
Or put another way, the King had no choice.
But he refused to explain.
So Wells was left torn. Why tell him at all? Was it simply to warn him not to interfere—or a silent plea to do something?
As he agonized over it, the most he could do was spend more time with Rozelite, watching her bound about as always, trying to comfort himself.
Until that day in the garden.
Masked men in black appeared suddenly. With a single strike, they knocked Rozelite unconscious.
Wells tried to stop them—he failed.
They carried her away before his eyes.
He thought she was dead.
Rozelite had been a good child, but she had no magic. Alone in the outside world, she could never survive. All Wells could do was pray. Pray she was killed swiftly, without suffering.
Then, four months later—
He heard from his father that Rozelite might still be alive.
For a moment, joy surged within him.
But it was quickly extinguished.
Because his father had not abandoned the plan. To prevent a “villain keeps feeding monsters to the protagonist until they grow too strong” scenario, he had sent the Sword Saint of the House Charlotte—the strongest swordsman of the kingdom. With no room for error, Rozelite was to be killed absolutely.
No chance of survival.
Even when his father spoke of “a one-in-ten-thousand chance,” Wells could not believe Rozelite could live.
And yet, miraculously, she had returned. Whole, unbroken.
Although… perhaps it was only his imagination, but Rozelite seemed changed. So much so she hardly felt like the same sister he had once known.
“That’s how it was,” Wells finished with a bitter smile.
“I don’t know why Father insisted on killing you. I couldn’t stop him. I do believe he had his reasons—but for you… that must be impossible to accept.”
Rozelite fell into silence.
Impossible to accept.
Completely impossible.
How could anyone accept that?
First abandoned in a labyrinth to die, then targeted by assassins. And after finally struggling all the way back—Father was already gone, carrying his secrets to the grave. Not even a chance to confront him face to face.
How shameless can a man be?
What could Rozelite do? Rage at her brother? At the entire kingdom? What would that change? She hadn’t come all this way for that.
Russell quietly sensed her emotions.
Confusion. Bewilderment. Resentment. Helplessness.
“Before Father died, he left me something,” Wells said.
“What?”
Rozelite asked instinctively.
Wells opened a drawer, drew out a scroll bound with red string, and solemnly handed it to her.
She unrolled it—and froze.
It was a letter of recommendation to the Rhine Royal Magic Academy.
The name written was hers.
“What does this mean?” she asked hesitantly.
“This was the last thing Father left for you. Though unlikely, he did imagine you might survive. So he gave it to me in advance, telling me—if you lived, I was to send you to the Rhine Royal Magic Academy.”
Wells spoke evenly.
“He said… all his secrets are hidden there.”