In the dim room, Ruger's dog face was likewise stained a waxy yellow by the warm-toned crystals around him.
"Are you... still alive?"
Only after seeing that the other party's emotions had stabilized did Ruger try asking. Once the words left his mouth, he realized he seemed to have asked similar questions several times already.
"Of course. Though I'm not much different from dead. Unless you can give me a little something fresh, delicious, and brimming with life force. That would make me feel a bit better. Something like your blood, for instance. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you. You're my good partner in getting out of here. If I truly harmed you, I'd rather stay like this."
The dried corpse of the Abyssal language teacher twisted and wriggled in place as it spoke.
It was clear that, back when the old corpse had still been alive, it had likely been accustomed to using plenty of body language to aid its expression, much like Big Silly Hum. Though Big Silly Hum mainly did so to compensate for his poor communication skills.
Ruger did not panic. He remembered Old Gold Tooth's half-pool of bathwater. Though it had vomit in it, it was still indisputably genuine dragon blood. It should not be wasted.
And in a place like this, under these circumstances, it might just be lifesaving medicine.
Although the bedroom space was restricted and could not help him escape, it was still fine to use as a storage bag for now. Half-Man's half face had been taken out and put back in before.
With that thought, he swept his hand over the table and selected a suitable cup.
Among the complete set of tableware spread across the tabletop, this cup was among the smallest—nearly the smallest—but it was also the prettiest.