If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 134

“How long has it been, anyway?”

Marianne, who had been craning her neck waiting for Willow’s return, began counting the days on her fingers but soon gave up.

She had no head for numbers, and the larger they got, the more confused she became.

On top of that, her fingers hurt every time she bent them, so irritation quickly flared up.

Not a single one was free from blisters, likely from handling fish with wet hands all the time.

Even the rationed dinner wasn’t bread, but a roughly grilled chunk of fish.

It had been too damaged to be sold as a product, so it was handed out to the workers—but if not for the stench wafting from afar, one might not have even known it was fish.

Knowing it would be taken away if she didn’t eat quickly, Marianne stuffed it into her mouth and headed to the workers’ quarters.

The lodging, which was attached right beside the warehouse where the fish were processed, was crammed full of people dragged here for failing to repay their debts, leaving not even enough space to lean against the wall.

Despite such poor conditions, some people still sat around chatting in hushed tones, but no one welcomed the ill-tempered Marianne.

‘Just wait till my son comes back. I’ll be out of this wretched place in no time.’

Marianne was waiting for Willow, who had gone to the New World on her husband Robert’s suggestion.

She had secretly put up the house as collateral to take out a loan, but she had confidence he would make a fortune.

Only after being dragged off to the fish factory by loan sharks did she learn that her son, who hadn’t returned for months, had other debts too—beyond just the house. It was then that Marianne resented Willow for the first time.

Still, she clung to the belief that he would one day return and take her away.

It was all that girl’s fault.

If that Georgiana brat had just stayed obediently by her side, they could’ve sold her to pay off the debt, and none of this suffering would’ve happened.

Just let me catch her.

Marianne swore she would pay Georgiana back for running away from home and leaving her behind to suffer this disgrace.

That night, she spiked a fever.

Whether the fish she’d eaten had gone bad or she’d just eaten too quickly, it hit her hard.

“W-water…”

No one came to offer Marianne even a sip of water as she groaned. If anything, getting rid of one mouth meant more food for the rest—

So everyone turned a blind eye as Marianne trembled in the corner.

The next day, rough-looking men came asking for her.

Judging by their expressions, it wasn’t for anything good.

They plugged their noses as they headed to the spot people had pointed out. There, Marianne lay collapsed on the floor.

A discarded newspaper was thrown over her decaying body.

The paper, fluttering in the breeze, featured an article about the New World’s first President and Vice President—and the Vice President’s proposal.

***

In the warm afternoon light of a full autumn day, the arch-shaped lobby of the Count’s estate, paved in pristine white marble—the family’s pride—welcomed guests with its usual elegance.

Especially one guest.

As Georgiana passed through the wide-open front door, a clear smile, like dew on a spring day, spread across her face.

“You’re here already? I told you I’d come pick you up.”

With the soft clack of heels, she stepped inside, and the owner of the estate came down personally to greet her. Even the hand extended for escort overflowed with affection.

Locke’s brow creased slightly at the chill of the gloves she wore.

“It’s gotten quite cold—don’t tell me you walked all the way here?”

Looking down from the lobby, he noticed her guards were present but no carriage, and his concern showed.

“It wasn’t far, and the weather was nice, so I wanted to walk. Once it gets colder, even that’ll be difficult.”

“Still, what if you catch a cold?”

“They say moderate exercise is good for your health. I can’t afford to be sick before the big day.”

Winter was nearly upon them. And with it, the wedding set for the end of the year drew ever closer.

At her words, Locke reluctantly nodded and pulled her arm closer to his. His warmth, just like his affection, reached her through the layers of clothing.

“Then let’s walk back together afterward.”

“Alright.”

She pulled off her gloves and took his hand with her bare one. Her small, white hand disappeared into his palm.

On Locke’s face—recently appointed Vice President—a smile brighter than the one from his election day bloomed.

Old memories surfaced in Georgiana’s mind.

There was a time when she’d stood quietly in front of a similar entrance, waiting for the lady of the house.

Back then, she had to leave without even seeing her face, dismissed without warning.

But now, those worn-out shoes, and the dreadful house she used to return to, were no more.

Just like the New World had declared its independence, she too had found freedom from all her past misfortunes.

Perhaps she had been lucky.

But what was certain was that she had survived—and that was why she had made it to today.

If she had given up at that critical moment, she never would have reached this place.

She never would have met this man.

Since the arrival of photography in the New World, Georgiana had often heard Locke described as the most handsome subject ever captured.

From his neatly swept black hair to his defined features and solid build—there was nothing to criticize.

Of course, she knew he was still said to be cold and rarely smiled with others.

But because he was endlessly kind to her and to children, Georgiana found she could actually feel at ease.

Noticing her gaze, he tilted his head slightly to look down at her and swiftly pressed his lips to hers and pulled away.

“Locke!”

“How could I resist when you’re looking at me like that?”

Letting out a short laugh at the cheeky man, she sat down with good posture in the chair he had pulled out for her.

Taking his seat across from her and drying his hands, he asked, “Did you go to the orphanage again today?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Not yet. But when we build the school in spring, I may often ask your advice. I really have no confidence when it comes to construction.”

“Of course. Let me know once the architect is decided. I’ll help however I can.”

Georgiana had been touring orphanages all across Northwest.

She didn’t just offer financial support—she taught the children and played with them as well.

With Angus’s full backing, she was also preparing to build a school for them.

It was still just at the groundbreaking stage, but Georgiana was planning carefully so that more children could benefit.

Locke watched her with pride as she explained her plans in her usual gentle tone.

After an early meal, they moved to Locke’s office, where he immediately pulled her into a tight embrace.

Burying his face into the nape of her delicate neck, he muttered in a deeply regretful voice, “If I’d known I’d be this busy, I never would’ve become Vice President.”

That was only fair, considering even this meal with Georgiana had barely been managed. In just an hour, he’d have to leave again.

Angus kept claiming he wasn’t well or was in pain and had been dumping tasks on Locke since the beginning, doubling the workload.

Every bit of free time Locke carved out for himself, Angus would use it to take Georgiana around here and there.

“People would rather see the Vice President than this old man, don’t you think?”

If his face didn’t resemble Georgiana’s so closely, Locke would’ve stormed out the moment Angus said that, looking completely healthy.

But until the wedding, he needed to earn as many points as possible—so Locke continued to work silently.

Which meant his complaints were reserved solely for Georgiana.

“But you’re doing a wonderful job. You’ve worked hard today, too.”

Patting his back as he grumbled, Georgiana nestled into Locke’s arms.

She, too, felt disappointed by the little time they had together. But she also knew very well that now wasn’t the time to act selfishly.

She understood just how important Locke’s position was.

After the wedding, they would see each other every day. Georgiana was counting down to that day just as eagerly as he was.

Soothed by her presence, Locke muttered in a subdued voice, “I feel like I’m being trained.”

“Trained?”

With a quiet chuckle, she pulled away slightly and looked up at him. His blue eyes, focused entirely on her, overflowed with affection.

“My mood goes up and down with your every word. If that’s not training, what is?”

As he deliberately pouted his lips, Georgiana rose on tiptoe and gave him a loud kiss.

“Then do you dislike it?”

“Of course not.”

Watching him hurriedly deny it, Georgiana gave a mischievous grin. Locke’s pupils quivered slightly in anxiety.

“Where did the man go who once told me, ‘If you’re going to sell yourself, sell it to me’?”

“We agreed not to bring that up anymore…”

Looking embarrassed, his face flushed. Whenever it came to the past, Locke always shrank in shame.

She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, whispering into his ear, “I may not have given anything else, but I sold you my heart. And at a very high price.”

“……”

“So you’ll be repaying that for the rest of your life.”

At her words, Locke’s face turned explosively red.

“I’ll repay it, and then some. I’ll give everything I have—my fortune, my title, even my life—to pay that price. From when you were Georgiana Courtney, to now as Leona Seymour, and for all the years to come as Leona Rivern, I will love and cherish you without change.”

“And I will do the same. No matter what kind of life we’ve lived or what the future holds, I’ll overcome it all with you.

I love you, Locke.”

Just like their tightly clasped hands, their lips met and folded into one.

Beyond the window, the first stars of the evening sky quietly watched over them.

– End of “If You’re Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me”