If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 80

For several days, large-scale offensives continued.

Reinforcements sent by the Empire arrived steadily by ship. While the independent forces were fewer in number, the enemy was already fatigued from their long sea voyage to a distant land. Unless reinforcements came from elsewhere, the current strength of the forces could be considered evenly matched.

By skillfully utilizing the terrain of the Rudelly region, it was possible to fend off the disadvantage and drive the enemy out, leading to fierce territorial battles. The campsite occupied today could fall to the enemy the next day, or the flag of the allies could be raised on enemy territory.

Yesterday’s final battle was fortunately a decisive victory for the allies.

Although temporary, they had completely taken control of the harbor, managing to drive the enemy’s warships far from the Rudelly port. Sinking the ships would have been ideal, but it was too risky to approach close enough to plant explosives. For now, buying time was sufficient.

The longer the conflict dragged on, the more advantageous it was for the forces on land.

Both sides needed time to recover and prepare for the next battle, creating a rare moment of reprieve. The 6th Division, to which Locke belonged, also enjoyed a quiet morning for the first time in a while.

The previous night, Locke had even dreamed of Georgiana smiling brightly at him, leaving him in high spirits as he hummed a tune while shaving. Dressed in a clean white shirt and pants, rather than his blood-soaked uniform, he started the morning leisurely with a cup of coffee.

It was the most peaceful time he’d experienced since coming to the battlefield.

After tidying up his quarters and preparing to step out for some light exercise, a visitor arrived at his tent.

Through the slightly open entrance, a familiar head of brown hair was visible.

“Captain.”

“Henry!”

Locke rushed to the entrance to greet him enthusiastically, despite it being only a month since their last meeting.

Of course, it wasn’t just because he was glad to see him—it was because he was eager for the news Henry had brought.

Waiting for that news had made each day feel like a year. The anticipation had left his throat parched and his body drained.

“You’ve worked hard. Was the journey difficult?”

Locke greeted his lieutenant warmly, though an increasing sense of unease began to creep in.

Henry, who would normally be causing an uproar, had remained silent since calling for him. His face, seemingly marred by traces of tears, was unusually somber.

Could it be that she hadn’t been found?

Locke’s smiling face gradually hardened.

Even if Henry had failed to find her, it wasn’t his fault. The effort he had put into tracking her down, achieving what even the police couldn’t, was already commendable.

Besides, considering she would likely face execution if caught, she must have gone into deep hiding. Inwardly, Locke had only given himself a fifty-fifty chance of success.

“Is it because you couldn’t find her?”

Though his heart ached, Locke patted Henry’s stiffened shoulders to reassure him. It was now his turn to take action.

Despite the guilt gnawing at him, Locke resolved to use his injury as an excuse to leave and search for Georgiana himself.

It had been a grave mistake to turn such a gentle person into a fugitive. Moreover, she had left most of her belongings at the inn she had stayed in with Henry after disembarking the ship. She had barely touched the money she’d been given, likely trying to conserve expenses.

Even in the moment she fled from him, Georgiana’s upright character had remained unchanged.

How was she surviving without luggage or money?

Locke had even wished she’d taken the money with her.

If she were caught, he had resolved to surrender himself immediately and testify that she was an innocent person used by him. There was more than enough evidence to prove it.

“Don’t blame yourself. Just tell me how far you tracked her. From now on, I’ll take over the search.”

Locke assumed Henry might have missed some clues in his rush to report back. Determined, Locke decided to scour every corner of Norfolk like an ant.

“She is in the Norfolk area, right?”

“…Yes.”

“Then, is that where the trail ends?”

“It’s not a matter of the trail ending… Captain… I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, Henry knelt before him, his head hanging low as if weighed down by a tremendous guilt.

Seeing Henry, who had never looked more remorseful, Locke’s heart pounded harder, his unease growing.

“Why? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me… Has Georgiana been caught?”

The worst-case scenario flashed through Locke’s mind.

He imagined her being apprehended while on the run, dragged to the police station. Her small face, filled with terror, appeared vividly before him.

“Where is she? Tell me right now—”

“It’s not that.”

As Locke, still in his current attire, tried to bolt upright, Henry grabbed his arm. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, unable to meet Locke’s eyes.

If she hadn’t been captured, that was good news. Then why was Henry acting as if he were digging a grave?

Locke felt his frustration swelling, ready to burst.

“If it’s not that, then what? Why are you stalling like this?”

Kneeling before him, Henry’s dry lips trembled several times before finally forming a small sound under Locke’s impatient urging as he crouched down in front of his subordinate.

“She’s… dead.”

“What?”

Locke instinctively thought he must have misheard. A word he should never have heard had pierced his ears.

“Say that again.”

“Georgiana Courtney… is dead.”

The words repeated sent his vision plunging into darkness. It was as if all the light in the world had been extinguished, plunging everything around him into pitch black.

The ground beneath his feet seemed to collapse, and he felt as though he was endlessly falling. Stumbling, he slumped onto the floor, his mind blank.

For the first time in his life, his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

His teeth clattered from fear, making sharp, staccato sounds.

Desperately trying to compose himself, he said again, “I must have misheard. Say it again!”

“Georgiana… is dead.”

“Who told you such nonsense?”

Locke, with bloodshot eyes, grabbed Henry by the collar and shook him.

Even with his neck half-choked and his breath caught, his lieutenant did not deny it. He only cast his eyes downward.

Locke felt as though his heart had been shredded by an enemy bullet. His face, now pale as a ghost, looked as though his soul had left his body.

Looking up at the devastated Locke, Henry rubbed his face with trembling hands before speaking again.

“I tracked down Jerry Hanson. While his address had changed several times, it wasn’t difficult to find him in a small town where outsiders were rare. He was staying at his brother’s house, a fellow independence fighter like us.”

“……”

“After explaining the situation and proving that I was the person from the wanted posters, he finally told me where he had last dropped off Georgiana. It was a village on the outskirts of Norfolk.”

“Why would she go to such a village?”

As Henry’s explanation continued, Locke’s tone grew colder, each word laden with icy restraint.

“He said that staying in the city posed too great a risk of exposure, so he left her there.”

“And what did Georgiana do there?”

“She stayed at an inn while looking for work through an employment office, using the alias ‘Leona.’ Fortunately, during that period, only one young woman appeared who matched her description. The physical details were consistent as well.”

“And then?”

“Unfortunately, the owner of the inn she stayed at was a despicable man. He paid off the employment office to ensure she wouldn’t get any job offers, likely planning to isolate her financially.”

“Where is that bastard now?”

Locke’s eyes burned with fury, ready to throttle the man on the spot.

“He’s dead as well.”

The news of the detestable man’s death was both satisfying and chilling.

“Does it have anything to do with Georgiana?”

“Her last confirmed outing was the day she left the inn to visit the employment office. Predictably, she didn’t find any work due to that man’s interference and left the office. After that, no one saw her again. Since no carriages left the area that day, everyone assumes she returned to the inn.”

“Get to the point.”

“That night, the inn caught fire. While the cause is unknown, locals believe it was an act of revenge against the innkeeper, given his history of misconduct. The fire was so severe that even the building’s frame was obliterated, making it impossible to confirm any survivors.”

“And you? You must have gone there yourself.”

If Henry was the man Locke knew, he would have personally visited the site to verify the facts.

“Yes. I went there myself, but everything was reduced to ashes, as if the cheap wood used for the building had burned entirely. I also sent someone to the local police station, where they reported finding a few skeletal remains at the site. Among them was a set of bones believed to belong to a woman. I’m deeply sorry.”

“That—that was Georgiana?”

Locke’s voice quivered uncontrollably as he asked again.