If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 120

Bang. Bang.

Amid a barrage of bullets, two guards who had approached the carriage fell to the ground instantly. One of the attackers was also struck by a guard’s bullet and collapsed forward, clutching his chest. Blood poured out, soaking the ground.

The remaining two guards safely hid behind pillars connected to the garden, and upon confirming their positions, Georgiana turned back without hesitation and bolted for the front entrance, locking the door securely.

Due to Locke’s insistence, the front door had been recently reinforced with metal over wood, making it sturdy enough to withstand even a cannonball.

It was said that the Empire’s oldest banks used the same method for all their vaults. Of course, the astronomical cost was another matter.

As Locke had said, a few gunshots were fired at the door, but it didn’t take any damage.

Most of the attackers carried guns, which was somewhat reassuring for now, but since there was a chance they could come in through the windows, Georgiana kept a close watch on those newly curtained just that morning.

She already had her pistol in hand, drawn from its holster.

At the sound of gunfire, everyone in the mansion rushed down to the first floor.

But aside from her, there were only Locke, Henry, the butler, the cook, the head maid, and the two maids.

Lily and Finn were trembling with fear, perhaps reminded of the rioters they had encountered at the previous plantation.

“Joseph, lock the back door quickly. It’s safer to stop them from inside than to try to escape.”

At Locke’s command, the pale-faced cook ran to bolt the back door next to the kitchen.

“Henry, take the butler and gather anything that can be used as a weapon. Head maid, gather anything that could help put out a fire—water, thick blankets, whatever you can find.”

If they couldn’t break in, there was a good chance they would start a fire from outside.

If they were just after valuables, they might not do that, but for now, it was hard to guess their objective.

If they could extinguish the fire, that was fine, but if not, they had to consider an escape route.

“Aside from my father and Willow, there were just over ten people. I’m sorry…”

Georgiana lowered her head and gave an estimate of the number she saw outside.

She didn’t know how they had found this place, but judging by the fact that Willow was driving the carriage, it was clear her own family had brought the rioters here.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“This is happening because of me.”

“Georgiana. This is not your fault. The rioters could have shown up anytime, and that some outsiders are among them is nothing you need to feel guilty for.”

Seeing her so dejected, Locke firmly reassured her.

“And this mansion isn’t so vulnerable as to be breached by just that number. Don’t worry.”

Just then, a few bullets struck the front door.

“They’re all armed, and judging by their clothes, they’re gunslingers from the West. Definitely not escaped slaves.”

While several men grunted and kicked the door, Henry, who had brought weapons, observed them through the window.

Seeing how heavily armed they were, Locke instructed everyone to split up and take cover near the windows. The low windows were completely blocked with sofas and other large furniture.

Georgiana also gathered the spare bullets and powder Bill had given her and stood beside Locke, guarding the largest window in the parlor.

Seeing her beside him, Locke scowled, “This place is dangerous. Go upstairs to where the maids are.”

“No. I’m staying with you. I won’t be a burden.”

“Still, you can’t stay here.”

“You want me to run away again without doing anything? Without even knowing what’s going on, only to misunderstand like a fool again?”

“……”

Left speechless, Locke watched Georgiana draw her weapon.

Click.

As she checked several guns and reloaded them with practiced ease, Locke couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“Whoever taught you… you’re really skilled.”

“So trust me and let me help.”

“But if things get critical, you run without looking back. Promise me.”

“…Alright.”

As Georgiana reluctantly agreed, Locke suddenly pulled her close and kissed her cheek.

“With the goddess of fortune on my side, we’ll all be safe.”

At the same time, Locke swiftly raised his revolver and shot a rioter who had poked his head up over the window. The bullet pierced the man’s skull.

The window shattered, but the one who had tried to climb through it fled in terror after witnessing his comrade’s death.

Seeing the floor covered in broken glass and the torn curtain, Georgiana instead felt her raging emotions settle.

Watching her father and Willow bring in such brutal men, she was finally able to let go of even the thinnest remaining thread of familial attachment.

She felt no pity for them anymore.

If any of the people here were harmed, she vowed to shoot without hesitation.

With a firmer look than ever, Georgiana told Locke, “Locke, they’re no longer my family. Maybe they never were. So please don’t let me be a reason to hesitate.”

“Understood.”

Unlike the old Georgiana, who seemed ready to shatter at any moment, this calm presence amidst the gunfire made Locke realize how much she had changed—just as he had.

And that side of her only drew him in more.

Swearing to himself that he would not let a single one of them leave alive, Locke gritted his teeth.

***

“Shit, boss. Something’s off. These guys aren’t ordinary.”

Renan, a gunslinger infamous even in the West, furrowed his brows at his subordinate’s words.

He, too, had sensed something was wrong from the moment they breached the perimeter.

It had been easy enough to hijack the wagon carrying empty wine barrels and approach the estate, but the towering stockade at the rear had immediately put him on edge.

That wasn’t something a typical estate would have.

He was convinced that someone hardened by war lived here, and he approached the estate unusually tense.

The madman who had led them here didn’t seem to notice the unease at all and cheerfully parked the carriage in the middle of the estate grounds.

He had boasted that it wasn’t a big place and even if some war-crazed bastard lived there, it wouldn’t matter, then opened fire on the guards who had come to intercept.

Renan had seen a blonde figure at the top of the stairs turn back in surprise. It seemed to match the woman in the photograph.

Even from a glance, she was clearly a great beauty.

Renan was already planning to take both the estate and the woman once the job was done. As for the filthy rich owners—he would get rid of them.

He wanted to slice the throats of the sniveling fools startled by the gunfire right then, but he figured they might come in handy as hostages later, so he held back.

Renan had been driven out of the West by the Nilsson gang, but he was determined to return one day once he had gathered enough strength. The chaotic South was a critical foothold for him.

He could gather escaped slaves to his side, and pin the blame for any looting on them in the meantime.

He had originally planned to head toward a plantation owned by someone named Raymond, said to be a goldmine, but changed course when he encountered this rich fool.

But that decision was starting to look more foolish with each passing second—especially after seeing a comrade get a bullet through the head.

Still, retreating now without a proper fight would tarnish his reputation and demoralize his men.

Having made up his mind, Renan gestured for his subordinates to advance on the estate.

Boom.

Just then, a glass bottle filled with gunpowder came flying at his men.

Thick smoke and flames swallowed two of his men in an instant. Renan’s face went pale.

Even if guns were common, few had the ability to handle explosives.

He barely managed to dodge in a crawl, but the others nearby weren’t so lucky—most were hit by flying shards.

Only then did Renan realize how bad the situation was. He grabbed Willow, who had been hiding, by the collar.

“Gack! W-what are you doing?”

“What’s the name of the man who owns this place?”

“Uh, I heard it’s L-Locke Rivern.”

Locke Rivern?

It was an unfamiliar name. He hadn’t heard it on any lists of businessmen.

Renan tilted his head in confusion, but one of his men, who had once deserted from the independence army, went pale at the name and grabbed Renan’s arm.

“B-boss. We need to leave. Now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s… that’s the house of that lunatic.”

“Lunatic?”

“You remember that story? About the reaper who carried around a cat plushie during the war. He was famous in our old unit.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Renan had laughed at the tale back then. A killer so ruthless they called him a reaper, yet he always carried a stuffed cat toy.

“That guy’s name was Locke Rivern.”

“What…?”

Shock washed over Renan’s face.