The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode1.18

“Dark Fog.”

Mistia murmured, and Skia chanted a spell while raising her hand. A black mist appeared in the air, about the size of her face, floating lightly in place. Mistia let out a breath of relief—it seemed she had read it correctly and was able to use magic.

“What…!”

Belle’s golden eyes widened in surprise.

Dark Fog was a beginner-level darkness magic spell. It was a simple yet highly practical spell that deprived the opponent of their vision during battle.

There was no mistaking it—this was darkness magic. Belle herself had not used magic. That meant Mistia had read from the tome. Normally, anyone other than the tome’s contractor would be unable to read it. However, if one understood the language of the spirits, it was a different story.

“I can’t believe this. What a surprise. I see… an exceptional talent. But talent alone wouldn’t have brought you to this level. This must have taken relentless effort—effort so immense it’s almost unfathomable.”

Until now, Belle had thought of Mistia as nothing more than a mere girl. Given Mistia’s age, such an assumption was natural. However, she instinctively lowered her head in acknowledgment before the girl who now stood before her. It was a gesture of sincere respect.

“I apologize for my past behavior.”

Mistia gasped.

“Lady Belle! Please, raise your head! A noble spirit like yourself has no need to bow to me. You need not use formal language, either. More importantly, thank you for allowing me to read such a precious tome. May I continue reading?”

“…Yes, go ahead. To be this knowledgeable and still remain humble—no wonder. I, too, admired Mary for that very reason.”

“So, you understand.”

Belle and Skia exchanged glances and nodded at each other. A warm atmosphere settled between them, but Mistia, having received Belle’s permission, immediately immersed herself in the book.

(I have to find it, quickly!)

Her eyes darted rapidly over the pages, and her fingers flipped through them at an astounding speed. She read through to the final chapter, yet she couldn’t find the spell she was looking for. Growing anxious, she finally came across a particular page.

(There it is! The highest-level magic… A spell that can locate missing people just by thinking of them, without leaving a single trace? This is incredibly advanced and useful!)
“I found it.”

Mistia looked up at Skia with urgency. Her reliable partner understood her plea without a word.

“You can use it anytime.”

“Please. Lady Belle, I will return the tome. Thank you very much.”

“I already said it’s fine. But if you ask to see it again, I might not lend it to you next time. Why not take your time now and learn a few more spells? You probably have enough time.
You might find something useful.”

The Tome of Spirits was not something that could be easily lent to anyone other than its contractor. Thinking this was a rare opportunity, Belle kindly offered, but Mistia blinked in confusion before answering.

“Um, I already… memorized everything.”

Her expression was awkward. Belle stared at her in shock.

“…What!? No… never mind. You’re so far beyond comprehension that I’ve decided to stop trying to make sense of it. If your objective is met, go help Lady Irene.”

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Belle took the tome from Mistia, who smiled and bowed politely.

“Yes. Skia, please.”

“Understood, my master.”

“Chant these words—”

Irene Benburton was in despair. Her family had never been wealthy, but she never imagined they would go bankrupt.

“—And so, you will marry the second son of the Dawn Trading Company. This is the only way to save our family. Please understand.”

By “saving our family,” her father meant himself, his wife, and their young son. In order for them to escape from debt collectors, they had no choice but to sell off Irene to secure funds. Everything had already been seized; there was nothing left to sell.

As long as their son survived, they could rebuild the Benburton name elsewhere. Thus, they abandoned Irene as though cutting off a lizard’s tail. They didn’t want to fall into slavery and live in misery.

“Does the other party know about my burn scars? If so, why… Why would they choose me, someone so undesirable? I find it hard to believe such a convenient offer.”

Irene glanced down at her own hands. From her fingertips to her wrists, her skin was severely burned. Anyone who saw them would likely recoil in discomfort.

Yet, she did not resent these scars. In fact, she saw them as a badge of honor.

She had received them while protecting a beloved little lady.

“Of course, I told them! Even knowing about your burns, they still chose you. How can you reject such kindness?! What an ungrateful—”

Her father’s voice trailed off as he muttered “ungrateful.” To him, refusing such a “good” marriage arrangement was an act of betrayal. Yet, there was a hint of guilt in his voice—he must have felt some shame over selling his own daughter.

Foolish. Like a rabbit leaping into a den of wolves for the sake of a carrot. The Dawn Trading Company was a prestigious name. There was no way they would arrange a marriage with a ruined noble’s daughter.

Irene felt sick. This had to be a scam. And yet—

“…I understand. I accept.”

She had given that answer yesterday. She could still see her father’s face beaming with joy.

But when she arrived at a rundown inn for the meeting, she was suddenly grabbed from behind—and then, nothing.

(A gag…? Ugh, the drool is disgusting. My head is pounding… Did they drug me?)

The sound of rattling and shaking. Though covered by a burlap sack, she could tell she was in a moving carriage. Her hands and feet were bound with rough rope, and the pain throbbed.

Though her vision was blocked, she could hear multiple women moaning weakly. The smell of rotten potatoes from the sack made her stomach churn.

(Human traffickers. I see… They used the Dawn Trading Company’s name to bait desperate people like us.)

The Benburton family had fallen right into the hands of slave traders.

(How pathetic. My life is over. And my father won’t even get paid—this truly is the end of the Benburton family. …No one would ever want a girl with such ugly burns. No one will save me. What’s going to happen to me? Is there a fate worse than death? If there is, I don’t want it. I still—still have so many things I wanted to do…)

Tears streamed down Irene’s face. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop them. Soon, her sobs filled the carriage. Hearing her, the other women also began to weep, cursing their misfortune.

(If I’m just going to be defiled and forced to suffer through hell, then—)

At that moment, the carriage suddenly shook violently.

“—!!”

A rough male voice shouted.

“Who the hell are you?! We’re transporting valuable cargo! Get out of the way!”

“That ‘valuable cargo’ is exactly what we’re here for. Open the carriage.”

“Why should I?! Do you have permission?!”

“I won’t say it twice. My master wants what’s inside. Open it. Now.”

There was commotion outside. Two men’s voices, and a young girl’s voice—one Irene recognized. But that was impossible. Something like this couldn’t happen in real life.

But this was a chance. She began kicking the carriage wall as hard as she could. Others followed suit, making as much noise as possible.

“Noisy cargo, isn’t it? …Persuasion is useless. We’ll inspect it ourselves.”

“Tch! You damn girl—Gah!”

A short scream. Silence followed. The women inside shuddered.

Then, light burst through a small opening.

(Warm.)

Desperate, Irene reached toward the light.