The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 1.12

The girls’ dormitory was in the east wing.

Green ivy crept along the red brick walls. Mistia and the others were guided to a corner room at the far end of the east wing. Mistia was itching to pet Belle, but as soon as the guide finished, Belle slipped away from her feet and quickly left. Mistia watched Belle’s retreating figure with a longing gaze.

Suddenly, Belle stopped in her tracks and turned around. Mistia’s heart skipped a beat as she met those golden eyes.

“If you’re going to a duel, dress appropriately. Also, where is your lady’s maid? This time, I suppose there’s no choice, but make sure to hire one before you officially enroll.”

A high, elegant voice rang out, as sweet as the sound of ringing bells. Mistia looked around, wondering who had spoken. But the hallway, with its beautifully patterned carpet, was completely empty.

“Where are you looking, you fool? Listen carefully—don’t disgrace Mary.”

The voice seemed to be coming from below.

—The presence of a spirit.

Mistia had rarely seen spirits other than high-ranking ones that took human form. That was why she had been slow to notice. Feeling flustered, she hurriedly performed a curtsy. Seeing this, Belle flicked her long tail slightly.

The voice belonged to this beautiful black cat.

“Oh? At least you have proper manners.”

“I deeply apologize for not realizing you were a spirit… Um, what exactly is appropriate attire for a duel?”

“That spirit over there didn’t tell you? Just look at yourself—what a mess. Your hair is unkempt, and your clothes are in tatters. This isn’t your home. Wearing patchwork clothes sewn together at home is disgraceful. If Mary is concerned about you, then appearing like this will bring shame upon her. There will be a ball as well, so of course, you must have a splendid dress made. And let me be clear—you won’t be swinging a sword yourself, so if you show up in trousers, I’ll knock some sense into you.”

Belle spoke rapidly.

“Y-Yes. A dress, you say? Unfortunately, I ran away from home with nothing but the clothes on my back. I don’t own anything valuable. I don’t know what to do…”

Mistia placed a hand on her cheek, deep in thought. She didn’t want to anger this charming lady, but she had no beautiful dress, nor did she have the money to have one made. Her uncle controlled all of her assets.

Then, Skia, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

“In that case, sell this.”

Skia stepped closer to Mistia and pulled the dagger from his belt. The sheath was adorned with exquisite carvings. Slowly, he drew the blade.

“Oh, what a beautiful agate stone… This is a spirit blade, isn’t it? What an incredible piece. Selling it would be unthinkable. It’s a protective dagger, meant to keep its owner safe.”

Mistia’s eyes were drawn to the finely polished blue agate embedded in the dagger. She was no expert in appraisal, but even an amateur could see that the craftsmanship was extraordinary. She had heard that a spirit blade could fetch enough money to buy not just a dress, but even a grand mansion. She looked up at Skia, her brows furrowed.

“Then it will fulfill its purpose. A spirit that brings shame to its master is worthless. Use it for my peace of mind. If you refuse, I’ll ask that cat’s master instead.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Mary is more knowledgeable about these things than this girl. But if you call me a cat again, I’ll bite you.”

“My apologies, little lady.”

“Hmph.”

Belle turned her head away, while Skia narrowed his eyes and chuckled. Then he sheathed the spirit blade, skillfully tied the cord around its sheath, and hung the dagger around Belle’s neck.

As their conversation continued without her, Mistia quickly spoke up.

“W-Wait! Skia, I can’t accept something so valuable…!”

“You’ll need money to hire a maid as well. Now, go.”

“Understood.”

“Wait, spirit! You said ‘before I enroll,’ but there’s no guarantee that I’ll win!”

“Well, that’s—”

Belle glanced at Skia. Behind Mistia, Skia placed a finger over his lips in a silent gesture. Belle let out a sigh and returned her gaze to Mistia.

“Anyway, since Mary has taken an interest in you, you’re obviously going to win. I won’t forgive you if you lose. Now, I’m off.”

“Spirit…!”

Ignoring Mistia’s plea, Belle dashed down the hallway. This time, she didn’t look back. Mistia clenched her fists tightly over her chest.

She kept receiving.

Skia had saved her life. He had helped her move forward. He had always been kind, always reaching out his hand to her. And now, he had given away a spirit blade that must have been precious to him.

(But I have nothing. I have nothing to give back to him. If I can’t return the favor, then surely…)

She would be betrayed.

Just imagining Skia turning his back on her made her heart ache.

“That was important to you, wasn’t it?”

“Right now, there is nothing more important to me than you.”

“That can’t be true…”

She couldn’t believe it. The spirit blade was a special protective dagger. Someone must have once given it to Skia with deep affection. Spirit blades were so rare that they were usually gifted only for significant reasons—most commonly, as a token of betrothal.

“You must have received it from someone important in the past, right? I could never wear a dress bought with money from selling something so precious.”

Mistia’s hesitation was understandable. But Skia’s action, meant to help his master, was also justified.

The standstill was broken by Skia’s sudden, muffled laughter.

“…Heh. A ‘precious person from my past,’ huh? There’s no such person. The only one who has ever mattered to me is you. Both then and now. That thing was a cursed object. A tribute from those who couldn’t survive without me. You don’t need to worry about it. But even if it had been important, I wouldn’t have hesitated to part with it. Though… I suppose your kindness makes this difficult for you.”

His gaze was filled with resentment toward the past.

Mistia held her breath.

What had tormented him so deeply?

She wanted to know, but she was afraid of reopening his wounds. She remained silent.

After a moment, Skia spoke again.

“At the ball, I want to dance with you first.”

And if possible, he wished for her to dance with no one else—but he swallowed those words.

His request was so modest that Mistia felt another pang in her heart.

“If anything, I should be the one asking you. I’m known as an oddball in high society, after all. And besides… I don’t want to dance with anyone but you, Skia.”

“I’m happy to hear that, but eventually, you’ll need to change. You’ve broken free from your shell, little bird. One day, you must leave the nest. But I won’t stand by while rumors tarnish my master’s name. Will you do this for me?”

“…If it’s for you, Skia, I’ll do my best.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Once again, Skia smiled gently.

Mistia felt as if a soft feather had tickled her heart.

No one had ever been this kind to her before.

Her mind was filled with thoughts of how to make him happy, how to make him smile.

So naturally, she smiled at him.

“Thank you, Skia.”

“!?”

When Mistia smiled, it was like a flower blooming—not a sunflower basking in the sun, but a delicate white lily on a cliffside.

Skia gracefully bowed and extended his hand.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“…With pleasure.”

And as she smiled and said, “A practice round, right?” Skia looked at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world.