The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 1.26

A long time ago, in a distant past.

Shisha could do nothing but watch as his beloved master took her last breath in his arms.

It had been an unfortunate accident. The carriage had fallen from a cliff, and even wind magic could not fully absorb the impact from such a height.

“Shisha… my dear spirit. Are you… there?”

“Serbia…! Yes, I’m here!”

The woman called Serbia stretched out her trembling hand toward the sky. Shisha grasped her cold fingers tightly. Bl00d dripped down, pooling on the ground. He cursed his own weakness.

He could neither heal her wounds nor take away her pain. Serbia’s unfocused eyes wandered, as if she could no longer see.

“Is he safe…?”

She was asking about her husband.

Shisha turned his gaze to her side, where Serbia’s husband lay lifeless.

“—Yes, he is safe. The doctor is treating him, so you can’t see him right now…”

Shisha lied on impulse. Believing his words, Serbia let out a relieved smile. Shisha quietly shed tears, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Bl00d and tears mixed together, draining the last remnants of her life.

“Tell Mistia… I love her…”

Serbia’s eyelids drooped as she slowly drifted into unconsciousness. The hand he held slipped away, falling limply to the ground.

As the supply of magic gradually ceased, Shisha’s body began to fade, becoming invisible. Overcome with grief, he suddenly heard voices in the distance.

“Hey, we found them!”

A man’s voice. A smile of relief spread across Shisha’s face.

(Help! They’re here to save us…!)

There were multiple voices—it sounded like several men. Shisha tried to call out to them, but he had already lost his physical form.

(Damn it…! We’re here! Save Serbia…!)

As if in response to his desperate plea, the men approached the wrecked carriage. They were dressed entirely in black, their faces hidden, but that didn’t matter now. Shisha felt a surge of hope.

But then, one of the men spoke unexpected words.

“Alright, they’re definitely dead.”

(…What?)

This was supposed to be an unfortunate accident. That was what he had believed.

The men, unaware of Shisha’s presence, turned and walked away. Countless thoughts swirled in his mind. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head, rage and hatred boiled within him.

(This wasn’t an accident. Serbia and her husband were murdered! Who could have done this…? They weren’t the kind of people to be hated… Who benefits from their deaths…?)

A face flashed in Shisha’s mind—the younger brother of Serbia’s husband.

He often visited the baron’s estate, always quarreling with his older brother. “I should be the head of the family!” he would shout arrogantly. If it was him, then perhaps…

Shisha held Serbia’s lifeless body tightly in his arms. The unbearable hatred consumed him. Would he simply disappear like this? Cursing everything, he completely lost his physical form and faded into an unseen existence.

When Shisha opened his eyes, he saw a small girl with amethyst-colored eyes. For a moment, his heart leaped, believing he had reunited with Serbia in heaven.

But upon closer inspection, he realized the girl was not Serbia, but her daughter—Mistia.

Shisha scoffed at his own foolishness.

(A spirit in heaven? Ridiculous. To think I would be summoned by Serbia’s daughter…)

For a brief moment, he considered rejecting the contract. But his thirst for revenge refused to let him.

He had to uncover the truth behind Serbia’s murder and make the culprits pay. However, if a spirit took a human life, their master would also be punished. That was why Shisha hesitated. The choice tormented him, tearing him apart inside.

(Ah, Mistia… You are Serbia’s mirror image, and I love you for that. And at the same time, I hate you more than anything.)

Love, hatred, love, love, hatred. The conflicting emotions simmered inside him, preventing him from being kind to Mistia. If only she weren’t his master—if only Serbia’s death had not become just another part of the past. He could not even bring himself to speak to her about his memories of her mother. Time passed in silence.

(Should I tell Mistia? That her mother was murdered? But what would that accomplish? Should I tell her to stab a knife into her uncle’s heart?)

As he repeatedly questioned himself, time continued to pass. Then, one day, everything changed.

“Hey! Don’t you think Alisha would be a better master than Mistia? I’m sick of that useless girl. You all agree, don’t you?”

It was Shaitan’s proposal to switch masters. A reckless and absurd idea. Shisha felt disgusted by Shaitan’s foolishness. Not to mention, he had no desire to serve Alisha, who openly mistreated Serbia’s beloved daughter. However—

(If Mistia is no longer my master, I will be free to take revenge!)

Shisha accepted the proposal. Even Ariel, who seemed to care for Mistia, agreed. And so, Mistia, who cherished her spirits more than anyone, was betrayed by all of them.

Alisha’s father, Sir Michael Redfield, adored his daughter. That gave Shisha an idea—he could use Alisha against him. He could have directly confronted Michael, but if anything went wrong, he might lose his chance at revenge forever.

He had to be careful, meticulous. The plan had to be perfect.

As he observed Alisha, looking for weaknesses, she finally revealed her true nature.

His heart raced. Finally, he would be able to avenge Serbia.

Shisha smirked darkly. He would drag Michael and his beloved Alisha straight to hell.