If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 123

After the Imperial Army withdrew, the top of Lecota Hill—overlooking Northwest Port—was transformed into a haven for high-ranking independence soldiers and nobles with wealth.

At the very summit stood a mansion entirely built from white marble, so majestic and mysterious it resembled an ancient temple, visible even from the distant sea.

Rumor had it that it was originally constructed as Edmund’s villa, but he was injured before it could be used, and after the war ended, it was immediately sold.

Angus Rossmann, worn down by the pestering of his subordinates, settled there. Each time he climbed the neatly paved alleys, he resolved to pass the place on to his successor or open it to the public someday.

Though beautiful—crafted with care by an artist—it was far too large and high-maintenance for a man in his seventies to manage alone. Such a place required a devoted mistress.

Returning from the West, where rumors of rampant gunslingers had prompted a political reconnaissance, Angus stepped down from his carriage with a fatigued expression.

His reflection appeared on the polished stone walls: a thoroughly exhausted old gentleman.

Over the course of a brutal two-week journey, they had been ambushed multiple times.

Of course, it wasn’t because they knew he was the Supreme Commander. The outlaws of the West, seeing the heavily guarded party, assumed they must be carrying riches and struck.

Those wretched gunslingers.

Apparently, even a youth from the Rossellio family—recently elected as a Western representative—had once led gunslingers. That was precisely why assigning the region to him seemed apt.

He had ambition, too—promising to eliminate the outlaws in a few months if troops were provided, and asking that, once pacified, factories or major enterprises be relocated there.

Climbing the stairs, Angus wondered if his granddaughter would be that age by now.

Yet today, the marble structure under the glow of sunset seemed unusually restless.

His heart began to pound strangely.

Perhaps many messages had accumulated while he was away—no sooner had he sat down in his office than the butler brought him an armful of letters.

Unless a letter had a specific recipient noted or was sealed with wax, the butler’s role was to open and sort them by importance.

By habit, Angus reached for the envelope on top.

The sender was Captain Henry Marker, who had retired along with Colonel Locke right after the war ended.

He didn’t expect Henry to ever send him a letter.

Thinking perhaps it was a request for his superior’s reinstatement, Angus opened the letter—only for his eyes to widen.

The hand holding the paper began to tremble.

Seeing this, the butler asked with concern, “My Lord, could it really be true that this ‘Leona’ is your granddaughter?”

The butler seemed doubtful, but Angus had no such hesitation. He knew Henry and Locke were not men who would lie. The details, even the physical description, perfectly matched his daughter’s child.

It wasn’t hope—it was certainty.

He put his jacket back on.

“I must leave for Norfolk immediately. Pack again.”

Startled, the butler tried to dissuade him. “You’ve just returned from a grueling journey. If you push yourself again without rest, you’ll collapse.”

“Does my health matter now?”

It was news of the granddaughter he’d been searching for over a decade.

Swindlers had approached Angus many times, trying to con him out of money, but worse than losing money was the heartbreak each time the news turned out false.

He hadn’t even been able to recover the bodies of his daughter and son-in-law when their ship sank in a storm, but he believed—just as debris drifted ashore—that his granddaughter had survived somewhere.

While the former emperor still lived, he couldn’t enter the empire, so he had hired people to search in his stead. But not even a clue had surfaced about where she had washed up.

Even the brothels had been searched.

To think that same granddaughter was alive—and accompanied by none other than Colonel Locke Rivern—sent Angus’s heart racing.

He wanted to see her with his own eyes as soon as possible.

Ignoring all protests, he set out for Norfolk.

Pushing a journey that would normally take over a week, he arrived in just a few days at the plantation run by Raymond.

With rioters raging in the South and attacks by gunslingers in the West, dozens of soldiers had been assigned to escort him. The group looked so imposing it seemed a small war might break out.

The farmfolk stood frozen as they received the visitors.

Even Raymond, who had been informed ahead of time, seemed shocked by the number of people who had arrived.

Angus, having tidied his appearance inside the carriage, stepped out with a tense face and surveyed the crowd.

But Locke and the girl who might be his granddaughter were nowhere in sight.

A tall, handsome man with brown hair stepped forward and greeted him politely.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Supreme Commander Angus Rossmann. I’m Raymond Rivern, manager of Anais Plantation.”

He looked nothing like the Locke Angus knew, but the shared surname confirmed that this was indeed the brother mentioned in the letter.

“I know this is a sudden visit, so thank you for the warm welcome.”

Angus returned the greeting with a kind smile, already aware from the letter that his granddaughter had been here for over a year. Yet he couldn’t hide the growing tension behind his expression.

“Where is Colonel Locke? And… isn’t there a woman named Leona here?”

“Leona…? May I ask how you know that name, Commander?”

Raymond’s eyes grew wary the moment he heard his granddaughter’s name.

Sensing Raymond’s protectiveness over her, Angus began to observe him more carefully.

Was it not Locke, then?

Raymond’s personality seemed quite unlike Locke’s, who was steadfast and suited to military life.

“It’s not something bad—she’s someone I’ve been searching for. I received a letter from Colonel Locke saying she was here.”

Angus held up the envelope bearing Henry’s handwriting.

“He’s not here at the moment. He left for the Count’s estate a little while ago.”

Hearing that he’d left brought a wave of disappointment to Angus’s face, which Raymond quickly tried to soften.

“It’s not far from here. You should be able to reach it quickly.”

“Thank you. I’ll plan another visit soon.”

“We’ll see you again then. I’ll assign someone to guide you.”

Instead of giving directions, Raymond assigned a servant familiar with the route.

Grateful for the consideration, Angus hastened onward.

The thought that he might finally see his granddaughter made even his fingers tremble.

He even checked himself in the mirror—something he usually never did.

As the carriage continued on, it began to slow.

Peering out the window, Angus’s eyes widened at the sight of black smoke rising from a mansion not far ahead.

Something was clearly wrong.

Just as he feared, a soldier ran up to inform him that a battle had broken out.

A gang of armed rioters had surrounded the mansion and even set it on fire.

It was plain that they were trying to shoot anyone who came out.

Angus ordered the soldiers to block every escape route so that not even a rat could get away.

As he ran toward the mansion, he spotted a woman descending the stairs.

He could hardly believe his eyes.

“Fre…ya?”

The blonde woman looked exactly like his daughter Freya on her wedding day to Marquis Seymour. From her delicate figure to her finely shaped features—Angus was certain this was his granddaughter.

Tears welled in his eyes.

Seeing her in trousers and holding a gun—just like her tomboyish mother—he was momentarily stunned. But someone was already closing in on Leona.

Angus held back the troops. Any chaos from their side might put his granddaughter, who stood in the very center, in grave danger.

They outnumbered the enemy, but the risk to her life was enough to freeze his judgment.

Then a gunshot rang out, and the man confronting Leona collapsed. Locke had appeared and shot him from behind.

Just when things seemed under control, a carriage charged at Leona.

Seeing someone grab her hair and drag her away made Angus’s heart sink.

Furious, he immediately ordered his troops to fire and suppress the rioters.

He then blocked the carriage escaping toward the exit head-on.

When the man tried to shoot at Leona—who had bitten his arm and leapt from the carriage—Angus fired without hesitation.

His gunshot triggered a barrage aimed at the man.

Jumping down from the carriage, Angus aimed the still-warm barrel at the dying man.

“You dared try to kill my granddaughter?”

Angus’s face burned with an anger he had never shown before.