Estiang-Style Negotiation (4)
Suddenly, a conversation he'd once had with his sister flashed through Estiang's mind.
'Everything else is fine, but I just can't empathize with the heroine at all. Forget gender— I straight-up can't relate.'
'What's your deal now? Fork over your allowance?'
'The heroine's too passive. She's passive from beginning to end—it's suffocating.'
He'd vented that frustration to his sister while reading the early chapters.
'Setting aside how the illegitimate daughter finally gets baptized and enters the family registry after being treated like dirt. Even a mere maid lording it over a duke's daughter? Fine, whatever. But this girl has zero intention of doing anything about it.'
'So what should she do?'
'She's got this super-rare spirit mage ability, right? Can't she take the initiative? If it were me, I'd slap that maid across the face and run away. She keeps contracting stronger spirits just by breathing—thanks to that spirit affinity or whatever.'
'Sigh, you idiot. I've told you a quintillion times that murim and rofan are different genres, but it's gone in one ear and out the other.'
'Quintillion? No way.'
'You want me to go full women's rights activist? By that logic, why do you read those alternate history novels you love? Watching Joseon crank out soap, gunpowder, and rifles to conquer everything fun?'
'Shut up! Manchuria's the lost territory of Goguryeo and Balhae—building Manbangsa to secure rightful Korean living space is the only way to ensure our people's survival—'
'What the hell is that nonsense? Anyway, it's just genre conventions.'
His sister had shaken her head back then, for sure.
'The point is, the kind protagonist gets rewarded. In rofan, that's marrying the handsome, capable male lead.'
'What does marriage have to do with a passive heroine?'
'It's crucial. She might seem wishy-washy, but that kind heart naturally pushes aside the vicious villains and lets her rise. Why do you think Cinderella's been popular for centuries?'
After hearing his sister's kind explanation, Estiang had been convinced. Sure enough, this genre and I don't mix.
But that protagonist wasn't someone to empathize with now—she was a living, breathing person right in front of him.
Illegitimate child, treated like she didn't exist? Maids sneering at the duke's daughter who'd made it onto the registry? It was straight out of Cinderella, abused by her stepmother and stepsisters.
'Basically a spirit mage Cinderella.'
Cinderella had nothing but her pretty face and kind heart. But Aisha had spirit magic that grew stronger just by breathing. By any measure, far more practical than Cinderella.
Plus, she was being treated like a family outcast. No matter how he sliced it, this was an undervalued blue-chip stock.
Enter now, and it'd skyrocket for sure. Careful not to spook her into running, he opened his mouth cautiously.
"That's a rare shade of blonde. Anyone can tell you're from Duke Leste's house."
"Pardon? This is from my mother—"
"Estiang Berg. Pleased to meet you."
He had no idea if Leste's blondes were that intense—he'd never even seen the duke's face. How would he know?
"……Aisha. Aisha Leste. It's an honor, Your Grace."
Not bad for a wild guess—it flowed right into her introduction. Estiang watched silently as she curtsied, lifting her dress hem.
'I figured no need to go out of my way, but stumbling into her like this changes things.'
How to broach it to lure this surefire jackpot lottery ticket back to his territory? A spirit mage—once there, she'd be useful anywhere. Even if limited now, stronger spirits later would change everything.
He started with the spirits.
"A spirit mage, I see. First time seeing one in person."
"Ah, yes. Sylph found it stuffy in here, so just for a bit…… If I've inconvenienced Your Grace, I'm truly sorry. It wasn't on purpose."
"I didn't feel inconvenienced, so no need to apologize. Just didn't expect to meet the source of the rumors like this."
"Pardon? Rumors……?"
"Duke Leste adopting his illegitimate daughter as his own—famous story. So you must be her."
"That's……."
Aisha's face darkened visibly, instantly. Unavoidable reaction. In this era, bastards were treated like creatures that shouldn't exist—byproducts of men failing to control their lust and breaking taboos.
Treatment ultimately depended on the father's attitude. For Aisha, everyday abuse like Cinderella? Naturally poor.
If not for her spirit mage talent, Duke Leste would've probably struck her from the registry ages ago, he guessed.
Hitting her complex head-on would darken her mood, of course. But that was fine. Unlike Leste, fumbling with a sure-win daughter, Estiang was different.
"Spirit handling's rare, I hear. What can you do with them?"
"Uh, asking what I can do so suddenly…… Sorry, I don't really know."
"Can you handle all four basic elements?"
"Four elements? Ah, yes. Besides Sylph, Gnome, Ifrit, and Undine are my friends too."
"Excellent."
Satisfying answer. Aisha's key trait: spirit affinity growing effortlessly over time. Even passive her helped the hero with mighty spirits at key moments.
Time for the pitch.
"So, satisfied with your current lot?"
"……."
"Straight to the point. More precisely: Do you want out? Want to take charge of your life and change your fate?"
Until now, she'd have asked what he meant. But suddenly, she fell silent.
Illegitimate or not, she was a duke's official daughter. Yet invisible to household staff, abused by blood family. No one would be content.
Mentioning her complex upfront was to remind her of it. Common sense: Accepting a total stranger duke's recruitment offer on the spot? Weird.
For that gamble, she needed belief it'd be better than now, at minimum.
'And separately…….'
Honestly, she was a bit pitiable.
'If I hadn't noticed, fine. But now I have—can't ignore it.'
A frustrating, unrelatable protagonist in his sister's novel. But that was fiction. Now it was reality.
'So, it's nothing big. Saving Cinderella's the prince on the white horse. That's why stories end that way. Got it?'
'No?'
'No allowance this month.'
'Aaaagh!'
That later chat with his sister crossed his mind too. He wasn't exactly the white-horse prince—more like a talent scout or headhunter. Grand duke, not prince. Whatever.
"No answer? Not satisfied, then."
"……."
"Natural. But it's fine. Duke Leste's the fool for not recognizing the gem in the rough—not your fault."
"You mean I'm the gem?"
"Spirit handling's rare. And versatile."
He continued calmly, matter-of-factly.
"The North's cold. But with fire spirits, greenhouses for winter crops. Water spirits find veins for easy wells. Gnomes firm the ground pre-build—faster foundations."
"I-I never thought of that…… Not sure if possible……."
"Because you've been caged."
"Caged……?"
"Yes, a birdcage."
He shook his head firmly.
"Birds raised in cages forget they can fly."
He stared straight at her trembling pupils, quivering lips.
"Flapping's instinct. But range? Learned by experience. Natural not to know till you see the wider world."
"……."
"Join me? Work under me—as my vassal, spirit mage Aisha Leste."
"Pardon? What do you mean, suddenly?"
"I'll show you the wider world—and that your power can change it."
Startled, Aisha shot back. Her exclamation drew out the peeking Sylph behind her.
"One promise: It'll be better than now, at worst the same. I guarantee no worse."
No outstretched hand—too abrupt. His on-the-spot decision after chance encounter. Expecting instant yes? Overly optimistic.
She needed time.
"If interested, find me before I leave for the duchy post-Founding Festival."
"That's…… Sorry, too sudden……."
"No other worries."
Brushing past, he added:
"If you want in, I'll handle it—even grabbing Duke Leste by the collar."
With that, he opened the door and left the terrace.
Bait laid thick enough. Choice hers.
Ideally, yes—a spirit mage under him would be handy. No immediate answer? Giving think-time was smarter.
Aisha stood frozen, mulling the sudden offer.
At the Founding Festival banquet, amid family abuse and wary glances. Duke Leste had threatened as usual: no nonsense, stay cornered quietly.
Fleeing terrace to escape bastard stares, she'd met the famed Berg Grand Duke.
And he'd offered—better than outcast life? Use her special spirit talent for him.
"……."
Her breath quickened. First time ever.
No one had ever needed her, treated as invisible or filthy bastard.
Especially:
"Even grabbing His Grace's—no, Father's—collar……."
The word Father felt foreign on her tongue. To her, Leste was always His Grace.
Grabbing the fearsome duke's collar to resolve it? For her?
Dazed, Aisha turned.
Squeak! Sylph protested returning to the stuffy hall, unheard.
Her mind brimmed with the offer—no room for else.
Squeak.
Thus Aisha reentered the hall.
"……Huh?"
Helena, who'd watched it all, let out a hollow laugh.
What just happened?
Sensing she shouldn't interrupt, she'd stayed silent—practically invisible.
"……Recap: That bastard girl's a spirit mage, so His Grace wants her talent—offers job."
Helena looked up, muttering.
"Then what about me?"
Estiang favored territory/military talent, so she'd scoured for skilled slaves.
Iliad's Rose now buys slaves to vent? Such rumors, yet she'd hustled personally for tech slaves.
Before proper praise, a sudden spirit mage bastard steals his full attention?
"Damn…… The slaves I endured crap to get."
Realization hit—uncontrollable injustice surged.
Eyes stung instantly; pale green irises welled with a single tear.
Ironically, Helena too had just gotten treatment she'd never received in her life.