The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 1.9

“Let’s leave the house while my uncle is unconscious.”

Mistia said this as she tightly packed her belongings into an old travel bag. This was her private room—though in reality, it was the attic of the mansion. Even the maids were given proper rooms, yet this was what she got.

Still, Mistia liked the attic. It had good sunlight and was surprisingly comfortable. She hesitated for a moment before deciding to take a potted plant by the window, tucking it under her arm.

Seeing this, Skia stepped forward, offering to carry both the plant and the light travel bag. His kindness made Mistia feel a little at ease. She decided to rely on him.

“Now there’s no turning back. If I can’t become a scholarship student… I’ll be expelled. And then, I won’t be able to take you to greater heights, Skia. Even so, will you stand by me?”

“You wanted to take me to greater heights? I never wished for that. But you are my master. I will always devote myself to you.”

His words sounded as if he was only following her because she was his master.

“Thank you. Skia, what is it that you wish for? I hope I can be of help.”

A shadow crossed Mistia’s heart.

She recalled the spirits that once served her. They left because things didn’t go as they had hoped. That was why she now asked Skia, hoping he wouldn’t leave her too.

“…Whatever my fiancée wishes for, that is my wish.”

Mistia was caught off guard by his answer. Skia laughed nonchalantly. She had asked seriously, yet he was teasing her. Feeling a little annoyed, Mistia furrowed her brows.
“Please answer seriously—”

“Don’t be mad. Here.”

Suddenly, Mistia’s body lifted off the ground.

“Ah!”

The usually composed Mistia, known as the “Cold-Hearted Lady,” let out a small scream. She found herself pulled close to Skia’s chest, his smooth white skin near her eyes. It was what people called a “princess carry.”

“W-W-Wha…! Put me down!”

Mistia’s face turned bright red as she protested. She couldn’t even speak in her usual polite tone. She kicked her legs in protest, but Skia didn’t let go.

“What about the potted plant?! If you’re carrying me, you can’t carry it too!”

Mistia frowned as she scolded him, but Skia just smiled helplessly. Then, the plant gently floated down from the air and landed in Mistia’s hands. He had lifted it using wind magic.

“You mean this? If you struggle, it might break. Hold it carefully. Now then… I’ve found my wish. My wish is for you to let me carry you like this for a while.”

At that moment, Mistia suddenly recalled something she had mumbled in the library.

“Just once, I’d like to be carried like a heroine in a romance novel.”

She thought it was impossible. She had been influenced after reading a romantic story. Now, Mistia was so embarrassed she couldn’t stand it. Her strength left her, and she simply watched the beautiful spirit as he walked.

Skia had said that her wishes were his wishes.

(He completely dodged the question. This is such a small thing, I don’t even really wish for it.)

Did he remember every single word I said? If so, no other gentleman like Skia existed in the entire continent. Feeling frustrated, Mistia wrapped her arms around Skia’s neck—but only to keep herself from falling.

As the two left the Redfield estate, they noticed someone standing by the gate.

(Shisha… What does he want now?)

Shisha uncrossed his arms when he saw them and turned toward them, as if he had something to say. Mistia clutched her potted plant tightly. Shisha glanced at Skia—he wanted to talk to Mistia alone.

“Skia, put me down. Also, please step back for a moment.”

“…If you say so. But if anything happens, I’ll come right away.”

Though he looked displeased, Skia gently set Mistia down. Then, he raised a hand to his forehead and muttered a spell. A soft glow appeared before vanishing.

“What was that?”

“A protective spell, just in case. You never know what a traitor might do.”

“…Thank you.”

Skia lowered his eyes and stepped away from Mistia. She turned to face Shisha. His light green hair and golden eyes stood out. Shisha was a high-ranking wind spirit, a Sylph. He was always quiet.

He wore silk clothing woven by elves, with a green sash draped over his shoulder. His cold beauty was unchanged, and Mistia had no fond memories with him. He spoke calmly.

“You’re leaving this place?”

“Does it matter to you? You are Alisha’s spirit. You should just worry about her.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t concern me. But I wanted to give you this.”

Though his expression was stiff, there was a faint trace of distress in his voice. He pulled a handkerchief from his chest pocket and carefully unfolded it. Inside was an old golden pendant, with Mistia’s birthdate engraved on it.

“Mother’s pendant…! Why do you have it?”

“Alisha had it. I repaired it. I thought you should be the one to have it.”

Shisha gently wrapped the pendant again and held it out to her. Mistia doubted that Alisha had willingly let him repair it. He must have taken it from her when she wasn’t looking. A mix of relief, anger, and some unidentifiable emotion welled up in Mistia’s chest.

Why now? Why was he being kind now?

“Thank you for repairing it. But, no. You… You are the last person I want to have this. You were my mother’s spirit.”

Mistia’s words were sharp. Shisha, however, silently took her hand and placed the pendant in her palm. Then, without another word, he walked past her. But as he reached Skia’s side, he suddenly stopped. The air grew tense.

“Protect her.”

“I intend to. Traitor.”

That was all they said. Shisha walked straight back toward the mansion. Mistia hadn’t heard their exchange. She and Skia watched his back as he left. But he never turned around.

Mistia tightly clenched the pendant in her palm.

(Now, I have no regrets left.)

The scent of the past brushed against her nose—

The sweet smell of scones baked by the kitchen maids.

Laughter fading into the sky.

The scent of freshly cut grass.

This place was, without a doubt, a house full of memories.