The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 2.2

“If you get any closer to her, you might lose the tip of your nose.”

A sweet and playful voice echoed. Golden particles wove together, forming a figure at last. Gilbert was so shocked by the sudden appearance of the man that his mouth hung open in disbelief.

Even in the dim evening light, his terrifying beauty was unmistakable. Shimmering golden hair, platinum-blue eyes that gleamed like gemstones. His finely sculpted features looked as though they had been carved by the gods themselves, so stunning that even Gilbert, a man, was momentarily captivated.

Beneath that face of destructive beauty, he wore a magnificent silver suit of armor. A blue cloak, matching the color of his eyes, stood out vividly. Gilbert, who had always been praised for his handsome appearance, found that the man before him far surpassed him in beauty.

“Wh-what…!?”

Gilbert trembled as he pointed at him. Like a startled small animal, he shook, and the man—Skia—let out a quiet breath. Mistia, worried that Gilbert might offend such an esteemed guest of the kingdom, scolded him.

“Skia, please don’t joke like that. It’s disrespectful to His Highness.”

“If you say so, I’ll stop.”

With those words, Skia swirled his cloak and stood quietly by Mistia’s side. Gilbert, still wide-eyed in shock, stared intently at Skia, scrutinizing him. Then, without voicing his thoughts, he shouted in his heart:

(This delicate-looking man is Asteria’s great spirit of light!? I couldn’t believe it when I heard he swore loyalty to a single young lady, but seeing him so obediently bound like this… it must be true. Even this mere girl has the Great Spirit of Light at her command, and yet I…!)

I drew the short straw.

The words nearly slipped out, but Gilbert clenched his fists tightly. His envy quickly turned into frustration.

He had been told countless times to suppress his emotions in situations like these. But Gilbert couldn’t hold back. He could never tolerate being looked down upon. His anger boiled over, and finally, dark words spilled from his lips.

“A splendid entrance. Were you trying to show off how amazing your spirit is? Hah? That must feel so good. You must have come here just to mock me, seeing me stuck with such a pathetic spirit. The great hero of the nation has quite the taste for entertainment!”

Gilbert sneered. And then, he uttered something truly outrageous.

“I don’t need this useless spirit anymore. It should just disappear.”

With those words, he strode over to Solm, who was still lying on the ground. Then, for reasons unknown, Gilbert once again began stomping on him. Mistia and Skia gasped in shock.

“Take that! And that! Since you’ve already seen it, I don’t care anymore! This damn thing has caused me so much suffering—it’s only fair I punish it!”

“Stop this at once! Skia, use wind magic to restrain him!”

“Very well, Wind—Aero.”

Skia raised his hand, casting a spell. Gilbert’s body suddenly lifted into the air, away from Solm. Now immobilized, Gilbert exploded with rage.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Do you have any idea who I am!?”

“Perhaps you should calm yourself,” Mistia said, her voice tinged with exasperation. She turned her gaze to Solm, who lay motionless on the ground. His body was covered in dust, and bruises were visible all over him. Some were fresh, but others had clearly been there for a while.

Seeing this, Mistia recalled her own past of being mistreated, and her brows knitted together.

—And Skia, too.

“Why haven’t you healed his wounds?”

His piercing gaze made Gilbert flinch involuntarily.

“H-he’s my servant. A dog should never live better than its master. He has to pay for the suffering he caused me.”

“Pay? And what exactly did he do to you to deserve this?” Mistia pressed.

Gilbert tilted his head, as if confused by the question.

“What did he do? Nothing at all. That’s why he’s guilty. He’s useless, completely worthless. His very existence is a burden to me. This has nothing to do with you, so stay out of it.
Or what, are you going to take in this worthless spirit?”

“His existence is a burden…? How foolish,” Skia muttered in open disgust.

He had suffered under humans for a long time as well. The moment he was born from a shattered guardian crystal, he had been condemned—”You broke it, now take responsibility!”

To be cursed just for existing, just for breathing—Skia understood that pain all too well.

“Mistia.”

So, he couldn’t help but wish.

He wanted to be the one always by her side. But if they abandoned Solm here, it would feel like repeating his own past—like Mistia was casting him aside as well. The thought was unbearable.

“Let’s help him.”

The words slipped from his lips before he even realized it. Startled, Skia covered his mouth. What did I just say?

His anxious eyes met Mistia’s. Hearing his request, she murmured inwardly:

(I’m glad… because I wanted to help him, too.)

A mixture of relief and sorrow welled up inside her.

(Skia must have found this unbearable. He and I have both suffered so much… I’ve never seen him look like this before.)

His pain from the past, the rare glimpse of vulnerability in the usually flawless Skia—it was precious to her. The need to respond to his feelings made her chest ache.

Just as Skia had once saved the lonely, weeping girl that was Mistia, she, too, wanted to embrace his pain.

And she could never turn a blind eye to Solm’s suffering. If she abandoned him now, he would surely disappear, just as Gilbert wished.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, Mistia steeled herself and turned to Gilbert.

“Very well, I understand. Your Highness, you said earlier that you wished for me to take this spirit off your hands, correct?”

Gilbert’s eyes widened. Still floating in the air, he processed her words—and then his face lit up with glee.

“Yes, yes, I did! You mean to say you’ll take this burden? How generous! But are you sure? This thing is nothing but a useless leech. Don’t come crying to me later when you regret it!
Hah, as expected of our nation’s great hero, as kind as a saint! Even extending a hand to such worthless garbage!”

With a smirk, Gilbert laughed. The restraint on his body was released, and his feet touched the ground again.

Ignoring him, Mistia walked past and knelt beside Solm.

She reached out her delicate, pale hand toward him.

“—Will you form a contract with me?”

Solm, barely conscious, stirred at the sound of her voice. His blurry vision was filled with the image of an angel—one without wings.

A hazy thought crossed his mind.

(I’ve never seen… anyone so beautiful.)

His weakened mind could hold only that single thought. Had he been stronger, he might have swatted her hand away—he had long since lost the ability to trust anyone.

But in that moment, he was too weak to resist.

His lips barely managed to shape a whisper.

“…I am Solm.”

With those words, his consciousness faded into darkness.