Even though it hurt, Elmar managed to get his skin the same slightly tanned shade that he had before becoming a Lich. He kept it up, trying to return some normality to his life.

He found that if he didn’t change, it didn’t hurt. So, he had begun changing his skin, thinking that if it got cut up internally, he could mend it. That was easier said than done, as the deep cut in his stomach.

“Why do young people always rush?” Asked a very bored Rozimer as he stitched the cut with small, precise stitches.

“You could have warned me that trying to regenerate my skin would result in this,” protested Elmar. Rozimer snorted.

“And would that have stopped you? You need to do this. The skin trick will give you two to three more months of life. You are on a deadline, pun intended,” said Rozimer.

He was not a sadist, despite being an ogre. His species was incredibly misunderstood. Elmar was a good boy and Rozimer wanted to help him, truly, but the boy’s progress was slow.

“I still have ten months…” Said Elmar, trying to comfort himself.

“Nine and a little on top,” corrected him Rozimer.

“Are you saying I will die?” Snapped Elmar, then regretted it. Rozimer was trying to help. It was not his fault that Elmar was not understanding things.

“You try new things without asking first. Had you asked, I would have told you that you needed something to supplement the flesh you were trying to replace with. Meat, boy. You need meat, freshly butchered,” said Rozimer, slightly annoyed.

“You want me to glue things to myself?” Asked Elmar. He imagined himself as a stitched together rag doll and shuddered.

“Well, I’ll have you know I use pork for my transformation. There is a reason why anyone would tell you that humans and pigs are alike. Pigs and ogres are even more alike. So, you see, the answer is simple.”

“How do you glue the pork to yourself? Do you turn it to mince meat beforehand or…?” Asked Elmar. He imagined a pig glued to himself as he slowly adsorbed its meat. He made a face at that.

“You touch the pig, and then its meat flow where it has to flow. I can get you a pig, I have a supplier, but you have to promise that you will ask me before trying new things. When you reach the part with the organs, a mistake could be fatal,” said Rozimer, eyes boring into Elmar’s. He kept the needle inside of Elmar’s skin, the pain reminding the boy that he could still die.

“I won’t rush before you again. There is something I have been meaning to ask you,” said Elmar, teeth clanged against the pain of the needle.

“Ask away,” said Rozimer as he resumed stitching.

“Can you teach me elemental magic too? I have been winging it so far, but I can do with a teacher,” said Elmar, hopeful for the first time that day.

“Ask your father. Anything else?” Asked Rozimer, sounding bored.

“Why do you want me to ask Hades for things? Do you owe him?” Elmar felt slightly betrayed. Rozimer had carved a place in his mind as a mentor, and now he was rather not like one all of a sudden.

“I am a sucker for bad family situations. Hades needs another chance. If your life wasn’t on the line, I would have kicked you out of this house, so you will be forced to go to your father for assistance,” said Rozimer. His words sounded cruel, even to his ears. Elmar had helped him with his pesky curse. And yet, Hades’ plight was important too.

“How are your parents getting along?” Asked Rozimer to take his mind off the hurt expression Elmar was showing him.

“They went on a walk. Hades asked me for advice, and I asked him to plant something with her,” said Elmar. It had been weird to see Hades with such a pleading look on his face. But Elmar had seen odder things. Claudia’s attempts at knitting among them.

“So, you want siblings, do you?” Asked Rozimer as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Not that kind of planting! A flower, a tree. Something green,” said Elmar, embarrassed after understanding the double meaning. “You don’t think Hades understood me wrong, do you?”

“I think he loves your mother very much and won’t take liberties. All done,” said Rozimer as he cut the thread.

Elmar looked at the bloody mess on his stomach and chanced touching it. He winced and then spoke.

“How come I can feel pain now? Back then, during the battle with the fire demon, I was on fire and couldn’t feel a thing,” said Elmar. He remembered the smell of pork in the air, the smoke around his form. But not the pain.

“You were eating from the fire demon back then. A high-level soul. You have been surviving on bugs since then. Not that I complain. At least you don’t kill,” said Rozimer, approval clear in his voice.

“The hunger is ever present,” said Elmar as he laid a hand on an uninjured part of his stomach. “It doesn’t matter how many bugs I eat.”

“You should eat the pig whole,” said Rozimer, and he stood up. Elmar followed him. The ogre who pretended to be human entered a side room and pressed a button. A pig appeared and it oinked merely.

“Of course, to do so, you must take the pig alive,” said Rozimer with a level tone. “Do you have the stomach for it?”

“I found tigers not too long ago. I couldn’t take their souls,” said Elmar, shoulders slummed.

“Well, think of it that way. To waste anything of the pig is the high of disrespect. You ate pork before, right?” Asked Rozimer. The pig was staring at them with its small, innocent eyes, and Elmar gulped.

“Come here, piggy,” Said Elmar, and he approached the pig. “I am sorry.”

He said, and he tugged the soul out in one swoop before the pig could so much as oink. Then, he felt full for the first time in three months.