The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer-Chapter 125 : Meeting Wells Again

The cold porcelain floor of the palace corridor reflected the morning sunlight streaming through tall windows. Footsteps echoed sharply in the still air.
Rozelite walked steadily at the front.
Aristine followed half a step behind, quiet, her face expressionless. Only the faint blue-black beneath her eyes betrayed the truth—that she had sat awake all night in the inn’s corridor.
Rozelite could feel the flat but stubborn gaze at her back. It made her uneasy, but more than that, she simply could not understand how the so-called prodigy of the Royal Magic Academy could think this way.
Guards along the corridor bowed when they saw her. Their eyes lingered briefly on the white-haired girl behind her, but no one stopped them.
They only thought that the Seventh Princess seemed... somehow very different from before.
The door to Wells’ office was open, as if he had expected their arrival.
Still, Rozelite followed proper etiquette, allowing the chamberlain to announce her, before stepping inside.
Wells stood before the great window, overlooking the awakening city of Triumphal.
At the sound of footsteps, he turned, his face adorned with his usual gentle smile.
By his side, however, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, stood Fingus Charlotte, his expression dark and unfriendly.
The instant Fingus saw Rozelite, his mocking eyes narrowed, black lines flashing across his face. Beneath the fringe on his brow, his glare cut like a blade, cold and bitter.
Clearly, he still hadn’t forgotten the ambush two days ago—that clean, decisive strike that left him without even a chance to resist.
Of course, he didn’t think himself weaker. He simply told himself that Rozelite had struck first, catching him unprepared.
After all, he was a Sword Saint, the future strongest swordsman of the kingdom.
How could he possibly lose to a mere little girl?
Rozelite noticed him too. But her eyes lingered on him for less than half a second before sliding away, calm and indifferent, as though he were no more than a piece of furniture in the room.
That utter disregard made Fingus’ lip twitch, his face darkening further.
“Brother.”
Rozelite stepped forward and bowed slightly, her voice steady.
“Rozelite.”
Wells smiled warmly, taking two steps toward her. His gaze swept between her and Aristine.
“Do you have results from your investigation?”
“In a way.”
Rozelite nodded and began to summarize yesterday’s findings.
The chase in the slums. The riverside barrier. The Shadow Race assassin named Alexis. And, most importantly, the intel he let slip before death: about “Layton” and his comrades, their plan to create chaos at the coronation and seize the Holy Sword.
There was nothing to hide.
She had already gone over the story with Mr. Slime beforehand. So now her account was clear and concise, leaving out details of tracking and combat, retaining only the conclusions and critical information.
That was the essential intelligence.
Wells listened intently, fingers tapping lightly on the desk without thought.
Fingus still wore a sour look, but a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes.
He hadn’t expected this pampered princess to move so fast—actually achieving such results in a single day. Meanwhile, he, who had been searching for demon spies all along, suddenly looked useless in comparison.
And judging by what she said... it sounded very dangerous.
He knew the Shadow Race by reputation.
Not just assassination, stealth, and information gathering. High-ranked shadows were terrifying fighters in their own right.
He hadn’t expected...
“...This is all I’ve gathered,” Rozelite concluded calmly.
“As for this Layton—how many he commands, where they’re hiding, or their precise plan—we don’t know.”
The office was quiet for a moment.
Then Wells suddenly laughed.
Not the polite, formulaic chuckle he so often wore, but a genuine sound of delight.
“This is excellent, Rozelite.”
His eyes were warm as they met hers.
“You’ve done far more than I expected. This information is invaluable. Thank you.”
He paused, then solemnly repeated his earlier promise:
“And as I said before, our agreement stands. Regarding you. Whatever you do not wish to say, I will never press again.”
Rozelite blinked, slightly taken aback.
To be honest, she had expected her brother to find some excuse to renege on that promise.
But he hadn’t.
The taut string within her heart—drawn so tight by her father’s deeds—seemed to loosen, just a fraction.
At least, on the surface, this brother still maintained the posture of someone trustworthy.
At that moment, a faint but steady humming came from nearby.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the source—Aristine.
She paused, looking down at the sleeve of her left arm.
The silk cuff, which had seemed ordinary before, now glowed faintly, magical runes surfacing and forming something like a small spell circle.
Then, a voice came from it:
“Aristine. Your day is up. You must return. The final construct of the ritual magic still lacks your simulation data.”
Ewass’s voice—calm, but carrying a weight that allowed no refusal.
“Yes, teacher,” Aristine replied evenly.
The glowing pattern dimmed. Aristine turned, bowed lightly to Wells.
“Task complete. Taking my leave.”
“You’ve done well. Thank you.”
Wells nodded with a smile.
Aristine turned toward the door.
As she passed Rozelite, her steps faltered for just a moment. Her golden eyes turned, steady and flat, meeting Rozelite’s.
“See you at the Academy.”
With those three words, she left, without waiting for a response.
Her long white hair drew a pale streak through the doorway light, and then she was gone.
The Academy?
Did she mean the Rhine Royal Magic Academy?
Rozelite turned slightly toward Wells. Was it her brother who had told Aristine about her going there?
Before she could piece it together, Wells’s voice drew her back.
“Rozelite.”
She refocused.
“Is there something else, Brother? If not, I’ll take my leave.”
“No. Wait a moment.”
Wells stopped her, moving to his desk. From a drawer, he took a small, ornate velvet box.
Opening it, he revealed a ring.
The band was crafted of pale-silver metal, simple and elegant in design. A tiny blue gemstone was set into it, translucent, with nebula-like swirls within. Around the gem, fine engravings formed a sigil Rozelite recognized—
A tree with only a bare trunk and branches.
Yes. That was the crest of the royal family—the House of Othinus.
“Take this.”
Wells extended the box toward her.
“This ring proves your identity as the Seventh Princess. In many cases it’s more effective than words or documents. After all, not everyone knows your face. When you begin life at the Academy, it should be useful.”
Rozelite did not immediately take it. Her brow furrowed slightly.
【Magic Perception Lv8】
The ring pulsed with a faint magical flow.
Clearly, it wasn’t as simple as Wells claimed.
She looked at the ring, then at her brother.
As though reading her thoughts, Wells smiled faintly.
“Of course, it will also allow me to sense your general location. I know you may not like that... so I never intended to hide it.”
“This ring represents both the rights and duties of the royal family. If you don’t want the identity of a princess binding you, take it off. If you need to use it, wear it. That’s all there is to it, Rozelite.”
“I only hope you understand that.”