If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 121

From the beginning, something had seemed off.

No ordinary household would need a front door made of reinforced steel like a vault. On top of that, there were even explosives prepared.

So this really was the home of the man rumored to be not just a war fanatic, but someone mad with war.

Renan clutched his head in frustration and squatted down.

And then his fury turned toward the cause of all this nearby.

“Didn’t you say he was a painter?”

Renan began strangling Willow, ready to snap his neck. Willow’s face turned red as he flailed his arms and cried out.

“Th-they told me he was a painter! He even took my sister as a nude model in exchange for covering my gambling debt. I had no idea he was a soldier!”

Willow conveniently omitted that he had found out later the man was part of the independence army and told only selective truths. He even shed tears, claiming the man had lured his sister in with a large bet at the gambling house.

Seeing him blubbering, Renan hurled Willow to the ground.

“Tie up that bastard and his old man. They might be useful.”

“Yes, sir.”

However, Robert, who was supposed to be nearby, had vanished without a trace.

Renan had figured it would be more effective to use the father as bait than the brother and sent men to search the area, but they returned empty-handed, saying he couldn’t be found.

“For now, we’re retreating.”

Renan judged it best to withdraw now that he knew the homeowner’s identity, rather than lose more men in a reckless charge.

The man was famous even in military circles.

He had every reason to pull out.

Still, the level of arms in this place clearly indicated a wealth of resources—and most of all, he wasn’t ready to give up on the woman.

Setting the mansion on fire was an option, but that alone wouldn’t be enough to take down a seasoned war veteran.

A frontal assault was impossible—but there might be another way. As he considered alternatives, his gaze landed on the tall stockade wall.

It looked even taller than the two-story mansion.

If they set it on fire and tilted it toward the house, they might bring down the rear with minimal effort.

Renan instructed a few men to create a diversion by firing at the front, while the rest moved to the back of the mansion.

Up close, the stockade looked impressively sturdy, though he couldn’t tell what kind of wood it was made from. It resembled a fortress.

Building such fortifications around an ordinary home? The man really had to be insane.

If they hadn’t hijacked another wagon to sneak in today, even approaching the mansion would’ve been difficult.

It had to work.

Renan sent one nimble subordinate up to the top of the wall and lit the upper end.

Perhaps the defenders had realized their plan—bullets began flying toward them from the mansion.

Ironically, the stockade became their shield, blocking the bullets. They barely managed to push the flaming wall over toward the mansion.

With a loud crash, the stockade collapsed toward the house.

***

Boom.

The burning stockade fell and completely tore down the back kitchen wall.

Flames flickered through the shattered wall and began to consume the kitchen.

Everyone dumped water they had gathered and tried to smother the flames with blankets, but the fire spread too quickly to control.

Acrid smoke thickened and filled the air.

Seeing that the very wall meant to protect the mansion had become a hazard, Locke wore a bitter expression.

Beside him, Georgiana clenched her fists, furious to see the house she’d grown attached to over the past few days being reduced to ashes.

Whatever they were after, she vowed she wouldn’t let them have a thing.

“We’ll need to break through the front.”

At Henry’s words, Locke nodded. “I’ll handle the ones at the front. You cover the rear.”

“No, it should be the other way. Your arm isn’t fully healed yet.”

They couldn’t avoid a full confrontation now, but everyone opposed Locke going to the front lines.

From what she had observed so far, Georgiana was sure she was their target.

Otherwise, Willow and her father wouldn’t have been absent.

While they were arguing, Georgiana reappeared, having changed out of her cumbersome skirt into riding pants. In addition to the pistol in her hand, she had holsters slung across both shoulders, each armed with a gun. She stepped toward the front door.

“What are you doing right now?”

Seeing her bold move, Locke ran over, his face pale.

“We’ll have to go out before the fire spreads further anyway. Since I’m the one they’re after, they won’t shoot me.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

“No. The fact that both my father and Willow came along means they’re not just looters after wealth. While I draw their attention, take care of things at the rear. You know, right? A single mistake could put me in danger.”

No one could refute Georgiana’s words.

If Locke or Henry took the lead, they were certain to sustain serious injuries. But if Georgiana was the true target, it would be easier to support her from behind.

The only problem was Locke.

“Do you think I’m so weak I can’t handle this?” He grabbed her arm, face reddening, refusing to let go.

“Locke, don’t you realize you’re the one treating me like I’m weak?”

“I have never thought of you as weak. I’m just trying to protect my lady.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not the same girl who needed protecting back then. There may be risks, but if there are, then it’s fate.”

Georgiana hooked her arm around Locke’s neck, pulling him close.

She kissed his frozen lips and smiled slyly as she whispered, “The goddess of fortune is with me too, Locke. I have you.”

With that, she threw open the door and stepped outside, the golden sunset spilling over her hair.

Those preparing to cover her, as well as the rioters waiting below to aim at any escapees, all turned to stare blankly at the light falling on Georgiana’s radiant blonde hair.

Rather than the goddess of fortune, she stood tall like a goddess of the battlefield—radiant with confidence. Everyone fell silent.

Quickly assessing the enemy’s positions, she fired without hesitation at those in front.

Two men guarding the carriage collapsed with screams.

The others regained their senses and began shouting for their leader.

“Boss! What do we do about the woman? Can we shoot?”

Despite their panic, Renan shook his head firmly. “No! Kill everyone else, but not the woman. Can’t you see?”

“Still… she’s shooting like crazy. How can we just let her go?”

“She’s meant to be sold to the Rosellio family. If you even scratch her, you’re dead.”

The Rosellios were the largest gang in the West.

Having recently entered politics and even taken a senate seat, Renan planned to offer her as a gift to strengthen ties.

Now that he got a closer look, the woman was more than worthy.

There were many beauties in the West, but few possessed such an elegant and captivating aura.

He was sure Rosellio would promise him anything in return for her.

“Capture her alive. Forget the others. Put everything into capturing her.”

The subordinates, trusting Renan’s judgment, rushed toward Georgiana.

Bang.

One of them was hit by a bullet from the mansion and dropped his weapon.

As they fell one by one, Georgiana fired to clear a path for herself.

Her skill was far beyond most of the men.

Renan noticed Willow, who couldn’t take his eyes off his sister.

He untied the rope around Willow’s arms and shoved a gun into his hands.

“She’s your sister, right? You try stopping her.”

“W-what? She never really listened to me even as a kid…”

Willow shook his head, trembling.

“Still, you’re her brother. She won’t shoot you.”

“She totally would.”

“What kind of idiot nonsense is that?”

Scoffing, Renan kicked Willow hard.

With awkward posture, Willow stumbled straight toward Georgiana.

“G-Georgiana.”

He called her name, voice trembling, gun shaking in his hand.

Georgiana’s eyes, staring down at him, were colder than ever before.