That evening, Lyriel sat with the slime sisters around the fire.
Pinky had gone to scout the perimeter. He did this every night, checking for threats, mapping the area. Always moving. Always alert.
"So," Lizy said carefully. "You call him husband."
"Because he is!" Lyriel beamed. "We're married!"
"I don't see a ring," Wixi pointed out.
"We don't need rings! We have love!"
The sisters exchanged glances.
"Does he... talk to you?" Mimi asked quietly.
"He can't talk. He's mute."
"Then how do you know he loves you?"
Lyriel paused. For just a moment, something flickered across her face. Something that looked almost like doubt.
"I just know," she said finally. "The way he looks at me. The way he protects me. He saved my life from bandits. He lets me travel with him even though it's dangerous. He hasn't pushed me away."
"Maybe he's just nice," Wixi said flatly.
"It's more than that." Lyriel's voice dropped. "I... I've been alone for a long time. Adventurers use me for healing, then throw me away. They call me useless. Burden. Trash. But he... he doesn't call me anything. He doesn't treat me like I'm worthless."
Silence fell over the group.
"We understand," Lizy said softly. "Being treated like nothing. Like you exist only for others to use."
"What happened to you?" Lyriel asked. "Why are you all so... scared?"
The sisters didn't answer immediately. Mimi's form flickered, unstable. Wixi's jaw tightened.
"Adventurers," Lizy said finally. "They come through our territory sometimes. We're slimes. Low-level monsters. We can't fight back. And because we regenerate... they know we won't die. So they do whatever they want to us. For hours. Days. Until they get bored and leave."
Lyriel's face went pale.
"That's... that's horrible."
"It's normal," Wixi said bitterly. "For us. For monsters. Humans see us as things, not people."
"But the pink-haired one is different," Mimi whispered. "He didn't hurt us. He didn't even look at us like... like that."
"That's why I follow him," Lyriel said. "Even knowing where he's going. Even knowing he might die. Because he's the first person in seventy years who made me feel like I matter."
In the shadows at the edge of camp, Pinky stood motionless.
He had heard everything.
He turned and walked into the night, unable to speak, unable to comfort, unable to do anything but carry the weight of their pain alongside his own.