Lord of Caldera

Chapter 223

Ray let out a faint smile at Sylas's words. Her smile, which was rarely seen, was dazzlingly beautiful.

"..."

"..."

The two shared a quiet smile, each gazing at the other. Just as Ray looked away, slightly embarrassed, Toby, standing nearby, spoke up.

"Could you two not create such an odd atmosphere right next to me? It's making my hands curl inward."

"..."

"W-wait a minute. Why are you raising your fist—ouch!"

Sylas dusted his hands off with a refreshed look.

"Well, we've seen enough. Shall we go meet Max?"

"Why did you punch me?"

"Quiet. If you don't want to get hit, at least learn to read the room."

Ignoring Toby's complaints, Sylas was about to move when someone blocked their path.

It was a mercenary knight, looking more like a thug than a knight. The bearded man grinned with an unpleasant smile.

"Could you wait a moment? I have something to discuss."

"...What do you want?"

Sylas frowned in irritation. Encounters with mercenaries like this rarely led to anything good. And, sure enough, his hunch was right.

"My lord wishes to invite you to dine with him. I trust you won't refuse?"

How polite. But it was a barely veiled demand. Turning his head, Sylas saw a young noble staring in their direction—more specifically, at Ray.

Ray, sensing the gaze, scowled. Sylas smirked.

"I refuse."

"Refuse? Why?"

"Because I don't like the messenger."

"Hah."

The mercenary knight sneered at Sylas's response. His hand moved toward the sword at his waist, darkening the atmosphere.

"You must be an ignorant brat. State your family name."

"My name is Sylas Corleone, second son of the Corleone family of the East—the Red Dragon House."

"Ah, I see you're someone who would do well to remain unknown. My apologies."

The grizzled mercenary knight swiftly switched his tone.

"Indeed."

Sylas and Toby exchanged amused glances. It would be interesting to see their faces if they learned that the woman they were pursuing was the owner of this territory.

"Perhaps it would be best to leave them and go on our own?"

"If we do, they'll just follow. Let's watch and see what they do."

Just as Sylas finished speaking, the young noble and his knight approached confidently. The young noble glanced at Ray but directed his attention to Sylas, whom he saw as the group's leader.

"Excuse me for interrupting."

"No, you may not."

"Pardon?"

"I said no."

"...."

The young noble blinked in surprise at Sylas's blunt refusal. This wasn't how these conversations usually went. Weren't they supposed to respond with, "Very well," and let things proceed?

Shrugging, Sylas continued.

"We're too busy to receive visitors or be visitors ourselves. Perhaps you could intrude elsewhere?"

Realizing the situation, the young noble's face contorted in irritation. It was obvious that Sylas was toying with him.

"You're being rude. Even if you're from the Corleone family, this is too much."

"It's hardly ruder than expecting us to accept an invitation without even introducing yourself."

"Hm. I suppose that was an oversight."

The noble conceded with a self-assured smile.

"My name is Gerard Cataldi, next in line for the Cataldi Viscountcy."

"...."

"...."

Sylas and his group remained silent in response, causing Gerard's expression to grow more confident.

"I see you've heard of us."

"No, I haven't."

"What?"

"Unfamiliar name. Ray, do you know it?"

"I've never heard of it either."

If even Ray, a native of the West, didn't know the name, it couldn't be a significant family. Though the viscount title was high, it wasn't uncommon for a family with high rank to fall into insignificance over time. Unless convicted of treason, a title often remained intact even if the family's fortunes crumbled.