The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

As Bastian directed his mocking gaze towards Ray, a shiver ran down his spine when he felt the chilling stare of his wife, Leona, boring into his back. He swiftly turned around to meet her eyes, his expression one of fear and submission.

"Honey, please refrain from creating unnecessary problems," Leona spoke with a gentle smile, her words laced with a hint of warning. Bastian, intimidated by her presence, immediately took his seat again, avoiding any further confrontation.

Ray, who had been locked in a heated glare with Vesta, caught wind of Leona's remark. His eyes shifted towards Bastian, viewing him with disdainful disgust, as if he were nothing more than an insignificant ant.

Observing the scene unfolding between Ray and Bastian, Leona let out a sigh, disappointed by the immature behavior displayed by these supposedly grown adults. "Come, child, we must make preparations for your journey," she said affectionately, her eyes filled with warmth as she looked at her son.

Desmond nodded in response and followed his mother as they ascended to the second floor, their footsteps echoing faintly in the background.

Clementine, witnessing Leona and Desmond's departure, approached her daughter and whispered conspiratorially, "Come, my dear, let us sneak a peek at Desmond's preparations."

"Desmond's preparations," Diana muttered, her mind conjuring up images of his glistening, bare chest, sweat cascading down his sculpted body as he looked at her with intense passion. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she gazed at her mother, feeling both embarrassed and flustered. "What are we--" she began to protest, but Clementine swiftly covered her mouth.

"Hush, lower your voice if you don't want everyone to overhear our conversation. Follow me," Clementine advised, her mischievous smile leaving Diana no choice but to comply. Helpless tears welled up in Diana's eyes as she reluctantly followed her mother, dragged along by her determined grip.

Once the two women had departed, the atmosphere in the dining room seemed to have reached a fragile truce, akin to the calm after a fierce battle. Bastian and Ray exchanged glances, though their gazes held starkly different sentiments.

Ray viewed Bastian as a fortunate man who had managed to wed a woman as exceptional as Master Witch Leona—a woman possessing both beauty and strength. On the other hand, Bastian saw Ray as a spoiled and arrogant young master, lacking in respect for his elders and exhibiting various other negative traits.

For reasons unknown, whenever Bastian encountered individuals like Ray, it served as a poignant reminder of his past. He let out a sigh, recognizing the immaturity of his own behavior. "Sigh," he sighed audibly, "Maids, bring us some ice cream."

Bastian clapped his hands, and the maids swiftly approached, serving ice cream to the remaining individuals in the room. He then shifted his gaze towards Katrina, who appeared somewhat dazed. "Miss Katrina, isn't it?" he questioned, his memory slightly hazy as this was their first proper interaction.

Upon hearing her name being called, Katrina snapped back to attention, her focus directed towards Bastian. "Yes?" she responded, awaiting further conversation.

As Katrina interacted with Bastian, she couldn't help but view him as somewhat peculiar. It was likely due to his son's exceptional bargaining skills and his wife's status as a master witch. In her eyes, Bastian appeared to be an ordinary soldier with the added talent of dual-class abilities.

Bastian extended an invitation for Katrina to sit and enjoy the ice cream, urging her to forget her previous blunder. Nonchalantly patting the chair beside him, he displayed a casual demeanor.

"Thank you for your kindness," Katrina responded with a wry smile, appreciative of Bastian's attempt to alleviate the situation. Taking a seat two spots away from Ray, she also sent him a discreet magical message, imploring him not to further tarnish the reputation of their guild.

Upon receiving Katrina's message, Ray felt a surge of surprise. His anger began to resurface, and he attempted to complain to her, but Katrina simply ignored him and redirected her conversation towards Veronica.

I haven't done anything embarrassing! Ray inwardly protested, feeling a mixture of frustration and confusion.

While disregarding Ray, Katrina engaged in a friendly conversation with Veronica, discussing their previous exchange regarding Ray's behavior. Katrina maintained a gentle smile throughout their discussion.

Meanwhile, Vesta seemed preoccupied, engaging in constant communication with his subordinates and frequently casting worried glances at the map on the table.

After a few minutes, Desmond, Leona, Clementine, and Diana descended from the second floor. Clementine wore a satisfied smile, and Diana covered her face, peeking out from behind her mother.

Clementine smiled, her fan partially obscuring her face, as she glanced at Leona. "That was entertaining," she remarked.

Leona smiled back at Clementine before shifting her gaze towards her son. "Yes, it was," she agreed, her eyes filled with warmth as she looked at Desmond.

"Well, what a coincidence. Let's go then. We've already wasted enough time," Vesta declared, noticing their arrival. He promptly stood up and headed towards the main door.

The others remained speechless, their gazes fixed on Vesta. In truth, it was he who had caused the delay.

At the main door, Vesta opened it to reveal two horse-drawn carriages and a coachman waiting in the front yard of Desmond's house. Ray and Veronica swiftly sought permission to return to their group of mercenaries.

"Only two carriages?" Bastian inquired, now standing beside Vesta. His curiosity mirrored that of Leona and Desmond.

"Yes, my troops will be riding horses for added safety. As for the mercenaries..." Vesta's words trailed off, and he simply smiled at Katrina, conveying that he didn't have much time to spare for them.

Though Vesta's smile appeared friendly, Katrina could sense an air of superiority emanating from him. She understood that not everyone would be generous enough to provide luxurious horse-drawn carriages to strangers.

Katrina maintained her composure as she calmly replied, "My job here is solely to escort the mercenaries to Master Desmond." She squinted her eyes slightly, observing the reactions of Ray and Veronica. However, they remained composed, as if this was a routine occurrence. It appeared they were discussing the itinerary with their own group members.

Desmond, noticing the interaction, glanced at Ray and Veronica as well, curious to see how they would respond. To his surprise, they displayed no signs of concern, behaving as if everything was normal. It seemed that their composure was unaffected by Katrina's statement.

Approaching Vesta, Desmond greeted him politely, "Greetings, Mr. Vesta. I believe this is the first time we have spoken." The people around Desmond, including Leona and Bastian, were astonished. They had assumed that their child, who had rarely left the house in the past three years, had difficulty socializing and was somewhat antisocial. Yet, his current actions contradicted their expectations.

Vesta, greeted by Desmond, displayed an expression of interest. "Hello, Desmond," he responded. Vesta understood that it would be impolite to treat Desmond like any other child after the politeness Desmond had shown him. "What can I do for you?"

Sensing the penetrating gaze of Vesta, Desmond felt a slight unease. He responded, "If I'm not mistaken, one of those carriages is for me, correct?"

"Indeed," Vesta replied, still unaware of Desmond's intentions.

"In that case, thank you once again," Desmond said, clapping his hands three times. The maids, responding to his signal, promptly came forward and stood beside him. "May I bring one of my maids with me?"

Laura, who had just arrived due to her young master's message via magic, was taken aback upon hearing Desmond's request. Her heart suddenly felt warm, and she looked at him with a passionate gaze. However, she was unaware that her emotions were visible to Clementine and Leona, causing them to furrow their brows in disapproval.