The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 1.2

“I sincerely thank you, Sister! You must have gone through so much until now. Please rest and leave everything to me. And, fufu… I just heard some wonderful news!”

(Wonderful news?)

Mistia’s face was dark, but Alisha ran up to her and tightly held her injured hands. Alisha’s cheeks were rosy as she looked up at Mistia with a beautiful smile. Though wary, Mistia accepted her closeness.

(What beautiful fingers…)

Smooth and pale fingers, just like a noble lady. Mistia’s hands used to be like that, too. But now, they were rough from constant cooking, washing, and housework.

Suddenly, Alisha dug her nails sharply into Mistia’s fingers.

“Ouch!”

Mistia instinctively pulled her hand away from the pain. Alisha’s nails had pressed right into her wounds. Before Mistia could even regret her reaction, Alisha spoke.

“How cruel, Sister! I only wanted to congratulate you on your engagement…”

“Huh?”

Alisha rubbed her hand, making it seem as if Mistia had struck her. Tears welled up in Alisha’s eyes, and immediately, Shaitan, who had been standing behind her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He glared at Mistia with hatred.

Even though she had let him go, he was once a spirit she had loved. There was no way she could stay unaffected by his glare.

But Mistia could not express her confusion on her face. She could only stare back at them with empty, glass-like eyes. She was too shocked to move.

(Me? Engaged? No… More importantly… I didn’t hit Alisha. But no matter what I say, they won’t believe me.)

“Hey! Do you want to be burned that badly? Is this revenge, huh? Just thinking that you were the one who summoned me makes my skin crawl. Alisha, are you okay?”

“Yes, Lord Shaitan. It’s nothing serious. Please forgive my sister.”

“You’re… truly kind.”

With tears in her eyes, Alisha still managed a brave smile. Seeing her so delicate and sweet, Shaitan softened.

She looked just like the heroine of a story being bullied by a wicked noble lady.

—Though it was all an act.

The spirits would never notice.

As Shaitan held her, Alisha smiled over his shoulder at Mistia.

That smile was pure mockery.

“Mistia, greet him properly. This is Marquis Mixilian Horde.”

At her uncle’s words, Mistia lowered her eyes and performed a respectful curtsy.

Lord Mixilian scanned her up and down before gulping down his red wine in one go.

They were in the guest room of the Redfield estate. The evening light dimmed the room, and the housemaids, hired just for this occasion, began lighting the candles on the chandeliers.
Marquis Mixilian Horde was a great landlord ruling far from the Redfield lands near the royal capital. He had come for a specific purpose.

He was about fifty years old, overweight, and in his late middle age. When he moved, the chair beneath him creaked.

He coughed crudely, let out an ungraceful belch, and spoke.

“She’s quite thin, isn’t she? Her hair is messy, so I can’t see her face well. I had hoped for Alisha, but since she made a contract with a spirit, that’s out of the question. What a waste. But I don’t want a wife with a spirit attached to her.”

“Hah. But Mistia is not unattractive, my lord. She may not be as stunning as Alisha, but she will surely make a fine wife and support you well.”

Lord Mixilian stroked his chin as he examined her face.

(Ah, I see now. That’s why Alisha wanted a spirit so badly. So this is my ‘fiancé’…)

Her uncle and aunt had only insisted that she give her spirit to Alisha, never explaining why.

Now, Mistia finally understood.

They didn’t want their precious Alisha to be sent off to some remote land.

Especially to Marquis Mixilian—who had rumors of his young wives dying within a year of marriage.

Sweat formed on Mistia’s hands, and she clenched her dress tightly.

One hardship after another.

She had been living with her uncle and aunt ever since her parents died in an accident when she was little. Her uncle, her father’s younger brother, became her guardian and, essentially, her father.

Her father’s noble title rightfully belonged to her, but since she was too young, her uncle took custody of it.

Even as a child, Mistia had hesitated to give away her father’s title.

But in the end, she handed it over—because of Alisha, the sweet little girl who called her “sister” with such affection.

Now, it was the biggest regret of her life.

Behind her angelic face, Alisha had been manipulating her all along.

The moment she gained the title, Alisha’s attitude changed.

She treated Mistia coldly, like a slave.

While Mistia was lost in her thoughts, her uncle and Marquis Mixilian quickly settled the deal.

Soon, she would be sent to him as his bride.

That night, a feast was held in the Redfield mansion.

Many guests had gathered.

Marquis Mixilian was happily dancing with some noble lady.

Mistia, an outcast in high society, stood alone like a forgotten flower, observing the ball.

For a noble lady, not being invited to dance was a great humiliation.

But leaving was forbidden.

She couldn’t escape.

Other noble ladies looked at her with scorn.

A young lady played the piano, and lively string instruments joined in.

Everyone was laughing, chatting, and enjoying themselves.

But through the crowd, Mistia noticed a torn section of the wallpaper behind her uncle’s dancing figure.

Her uncle, who wasted money and was now struggling financially.

The wealthy marquis, who had come to buy a wife.

Mistia was just a calf being sold.

Suddenly, her eyes met Alisha’s.

They were too far apart to hear each other.

Then, Alisha slowly moved her lips.

It felt as if all the background noise had faded.

Mistia held her breath.

“Congratulations.”

Even from a distance, she could clearly understand what Alisha said.

A shiver ran down her spine, and Mistia froze.

(Alisha… doesn’t care if I die in her place. No—she’s happy about it.)

Mistia was afraid.

She despised herself for being so powerless.

The music reached its peak.

The clapping grew louder.

Alisha smiled as a young man took her hand and led her into a dance.

“Oh, you’re so forceful,” she giggled.

For the first time in her life—

Mistia hated someone so much she wanted to kill them.