The Slime Doesn't Die from Mana Transfer-Chapter 42 : The Goddess Church

The next morning, Rozelite woke up very early.
“Mr. Slime?”
“Here.”
A tentacle stretched from her back.
“What is it?”
“Mmm… nothing.”
Rozelite relaxed.
She touched her lower belly, feeling her body still filled by Mr. Slime…
A strange, blissful warmth welled up inside her.
“The Bond of Fate…”
After saying those words last night, her memory had grown a little hazy.
By the time she realized it, Mr. Slime was already…
“This is wonderful, Mr. Slime.”
Caressing her stomach, Rozelite smiled.
“Now we’ll never be apart.”
“……”
This child definitely had psychological issues.
Russell silently decided that once things settled down, he had to find Rozelite a therapist.
Rozelite hopped lightly out of bed.
After collapsing straight into sleep last night, she woke refreshed. The 【Weakened】 status had vanished from her panel. Perhaps the nun was right about her body naturally recovering faster.
She stretched toward the morning sunlight shining through the window.
Her slim silhouette gleamed in silver light. Skin so delicate it outshone the snow outside covered the city streets. Though she stood completely bare, there wasn’t the slightest hint of indecency—
Smack!
A tentacle whacked her head, then yanked the curtains shut.
“Ouch, Mr. Slime!”
Rozelite clutched her head.
“Why’d you hit me all of a sudden?”
“Idiot, what if someone saw you from outside?”
Russell really was speechless. This girl had a screw loose.
He pulled the dried clothes from the corner with a tentacle and dumped them on her.
“Up. Wash, dress. We’ve got things to do today, so get moving!”
“Okay!”
Rozelite moved like a whirlwind.
In under five minutes, she was dressed and washed, standing tall by the door.
Her golden hair flowed loose, blue eyes bright and clear.
A soft white blouse hugged her form, outlining every curve.
A black sash crossed beneath her chest, tied at her sides and back, lifting her small bust so the cloth naturally folded into neat creases.
The blouse tucked cleanly into a black belt, while dark stockings wrapped her legs from shorts to ankles. Brown short boots snugged against her feet, blending seamlessly into the stockings.
No matter how many times one looked, she never became boring.
“So what are we doing today, Mr. Slime?”
Rozelite asked eagerly.
“First, breakfast.”
“Mhm!”
“After that, the church. Time for another restorative potion.”
“Eh? Again?”
Her excited face drooped. Her eyes flickered.
“Actually, I think my body’s recovered enough already. Is it really necessary? I’d be fine without drinking it, right?”
“No. You must.”
“But it’s so bitter…”
Russell’s metaphorical fist clenched.
Of all things, he hadn’t expected to experience the hardship of raising a stubborn daughter in another world—before even marrying.
Her sulky expression reminded him of a high school girl refusing to take her medicine. And with rebellious daughters, only a heavy hand worked.
“You! Must! Go!”
He poked her forehead with a tentacle.
“Okay, okay, I know… don’t be mad, Mr. Slime.”
Muttering, Rozelite opened the door.
…
…
After a simple breakfast, Rozelite dragged her feet all the way to the church.
“Right on time today.”
The nun handed over a restorative potion.
“Drink it, then I’ll check your body again.”
“Ugh…”
Rozelite braced herself for an intense inner battle.
Then she shut her eyes and gulped it down.
Russell checked her status panel.
【HP: 1530/7690】
【Status: Lightly Injured, Symbiosis】
Her HP recovery ticked up a little, but nothing dramatic. It seemed she could’ve healed naturally given enough time.
Was this thanks to the potion’s potency, or her unusual constitution?
“Your body…”
The nun squeezed Rozelite’s skinny arm, surprised.
“Already recovering this well?”
“Hm?”
Rozelite tilted her head.
“Strange, but probably a blessing.”
The nun fetched another vial.
“Here, take this one with you. No need to come tomorrow. At your recovery rate, one more dose should be enough. After that, let your body heal on its own. Remember, space it out a day for the best effect.”
“Thank you.”
Rozelite nodded.
Just as she turned to leave, Russell spoke up.
“Ask her if she’ll sell them.”
“Um, Sister?”
Rozelite asked, “Could I buy some restorative potions?”
“Hm? Of course.”
The nun crossed her arms.
“They’re sold through the Adventurer’s Guild anyway. But since this is the church, it’s quieter—most adventurers don’t come here. If you buy here, at least there’s no middleman markup.”
“How much for one?”
“Not much, three silver coins.”
Rozelite collapsed to the ground.
“H-how much?!”
She quickly did the math—she’d basically drunk an entire gold coin’s worth these past three days?!
“Why the big reaction? That’s basically at cost! I think it’s expensive too, you know.”
The nun rolled her eyes.
“Besides, the Guild and Church agreed on yearly quotas for aid. Don’t worry, you don’t pay for these.”
“Wow, the Church is amazing!”
Rozelite’s eyes sparkled. She looked ready to convert on the spot. But her faith was in coin, not devotion.
Russell had to drag her out by controlling her legs.
“Come to think of it, this world’s churches lean toward positive portrayals,” Russell mused.
He’d half-expected the cliché: the God of Light is the final boss.
“Of course the Church is good.”
Rozelite looked puzzled.
“They say long ago, the priestesses of the Goddess Church could use healing magic to mend wounds. That was the foundation of the Goddess Church. Later, when healing magic failed, the church declined. Until someone invented restorative potions. That secured their position again.”
“…Too complicated.”
Not his type of lore. Skip.
“Next stop, the weapon shop,” Russell said.
“Your sword should be ready.”