Jealous Slime and Soapmaking 101

"Alright, Pururun. You and I need to have a little talk."

I stare at my gelatinous companion, who’s still trembling with righteous fury after yesterday’s bathhouse incident with Lena. Honestly, I can’t really blame her — though, calling this “understandable jealousy” is stretching the limits of logic. A jealous slime. That’s what my life has become.

"Listen to me, you vindictive blob. Yesterday, it was YOU who splashed Lena and me with your disgusting toothpaste-slime and soap secretion. YOU put us in a situation where we couldn’t show our faces in public without looking like a pair of freshly hatched slimes ourselves. So of course, Lena dragged me to the public baths under the pretense of ‘testing slime soap’s decontamination efficiency’ — but mostly to clean up the mess YOU caused!"

Pururun compresses into a tight, round ball and turns away from me. At least, I think she’s turning away. Slimes don’t exactly come with a front and back, so I’m guessing.

"And don’t give me that innocent act! You knew exactly what you were doing. You did it on purpose because you can’t stand anyone else taking an interest in me."

She suddenly spins around and shoots a glob of toothpaste that splats against the wall right next to my head. Crystal clear message: she does not appreciate my accusations.

"Yeah, go ahead, throw your tantrum, teenage drama queen! Do you realize your little jealousy stunt cost me an entire evening trying to explain to a young girl why she shouldn’t get a crush on a grumpy old man like me?"

Okay, maybe “old man” is a bit of an exaggeration. In this new body, I look like I’m in my early forties, still fit, maybe even ruggedly handsome by local standards. But mentally, I’m still dragging around decades of jaded ER doctor experience like a ball and chain.

Pururun ripples lazily, which for her is the equivalent of shrugging.

"And let’s be real: she’s just a kid who’s infatuated with the mysterious stranger. Six months from now, she’ll have forgotten all about me. So stop your theatrics!"

I sit down on the bed with a long sigh. The absurdity of it all hits me again: I’ve gone from avoiding long-term relationships back on Earth to doing couple’s therapy with a slime in a fantasy world. Peak life choices, Ethan. Bravo.

"Alright, truce? We’ve got work to do, and I need you to cooperate."

Pururun vibrates faintly, then slowly inches closer. I’ll take that as her way of apologizing… or at least pretending to.

"Good. Now, we need to design hygiene products without your help. Because, believe it or not, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because a blob decides to throw a tantrum."

I leave my room and head downstairs to the inn’s kitchen. Marta greets me with a sly grin the moment I walk in.

"So, a little lovers’ quarrel with your slime?"

"You heard that?"

"Son, when you run an inn, you hear everything. Besides, watching a man argue with his familiar like she’s his wife? That’s prime entertainment."

"Pururun is NOT my wife! She’s just a moody, codependent creature with attachment issues."

Marta bursts out laughing.
"Of course, of course. And my daughter isn’t circling around you like a bee around a honey pot, right?"

Speak of the devil — Lena enters the kitchen, radiant and fresh from her morning bath, wearing that smug little smile of hers.

"Good morning, Ethan! Sleep well? Did I occupy all your dreams?"

"Are you seriously going to keep this running gag up every day? It’s getting old, you know. Anyway, enough chatter — we’ve got work. It’s soapmaking time, and today you’re learning how to do it without Pururun’s magical help."

I set up at the large kitchen table, laying out my ingredients. Fortunately, my basic chemistry knowledge and a mild obsession with natural remedies are finally proving useful in this medieval hygiene desert.

"Alright, here’s the principle: animal fat, ash from certain potassium-rich plants, and a few additives for fragrance and texture."

They both lean in as I explain.
"First, you need the right kind of ash — plants high in potassium carbonate. Luckily, there are plenty growing around Lowstone."

I grab a handful of dried herbs I collected earlier.
"For example: soapwort. Grows everywhere near the village. Its roots contain natural saponins. Crush them, mix them properly, and you get a gentle, effective soap."

Marta diligently scribbles notes on a scrap of parchment, focused like a top student.

"And for fragrance?" she asks.

"Wild lavender, mint, rosemary… basically anything that smells good and has antiseptic properties. The idea is to make something that actually feels nice to use, not just barely functional."

Lena moves closer to watch me demonstrate. I catch a faint whiff of her natural scent mixed with Pururun’s soap from yesterday — it’s… distracting.

"Can you show me how to measure the ingredients?" she asks softly.

"Sure," I reply, guiding her hands as we mix. Her hands are surprisingly soft now, and for a brief, dangerous moment, my brain flashes back to the awkward bathhouse episode. I force myself to focus.

"The key is the fat-to-ash ratio. Too much ash, and your soap will peel skin off. Too little, and it won’t foam properly."

"Like this?" she murmurs, deliberately leaning closer.

"Y-Yeah. Exactly like — "

Before I can finish, Pururun bursts dramatically into the kitchen like a slimy avenger, quivering with rage. She launches a jet of toothpaste-slime directly at Lena.

The poor girl squeals as white foam splatters her hair and face.

"Pururun! Goddammit, not again!"

The slime stands proudly, wobbling like a villain who just nailed their evil monologue.

Lena wipes the foam off her cheeks, torn between laughter and exasperation.
"Your ‘familiar’ really doesn’t like me getting too close to you."

"My familiar?! She’s just a psychotic flan with boundary issues!"

Marta, who’s been silently watching, bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"Well, honey, looks like you’re heading back to the baths again."

"And who’s going to accompany me," Lena asks, batting her lashes innocently, "to make sure I get rid of all these… slime secretions?"

I look at Pururun, who’s vibrating smugly, then at Lena, who’s clearly enjoying this, and finally at Marta, who’s openly amused now.

"See, Pururun? THIS is exactly what I was talking about earlier. Your jealousy antics create these ridiculous situations!"

Pururun folds inward, clearly offended that I’m blaming her.

"Fine! But this time, it’s purely medical. I’m just checking for potential skin irritation, and that’s it!"

Lena claps her hands in delight, while Pururun trembles with suppressed rage.

"Perfect! And you can also test our new handmade soap on my sensitive skin while you’re at it."

I narrow my eyes at her.
"You did this on purpose."

"Did what?" she replies innocently.

"You knew Pururun would lose it if you got too close. You provoked her deliberately."

She smiles sweetly.
"Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just a humble innkeeper’s daughter trying to learn proper hygiene techniques."

Marta finally bursts out laughing.
"Lena, stop tormenting the poor man. And you, Ethan, take responsibility. If your slime covers my daughter in slime spit, you’re the one cleaning up the mess."

I sigh, defeated.
"Alright, alright! But next time, Pururun, you control yourself! And Lena, stop playing with fire!"

Pururun grumbles, but I can tell she got the message. Lena, on the other hand, gives me a look that clearly says, “Oh, I’ll do it again.”

As we head toward the baths, I can’t help but think that life used to be so much simpler when my biggest problem was an incompetent coworker or a patient in respiratory failure.

Now? I’m mediating between a jealous slime and a flirtatious innkeeper’s daughter in a medieval fantasy world.

If Being X — the cosmic creep upstairs — thinks this is going to make me a believer…
Yeah, she can dream on.