Korbyn ventured a guess regarding the visitor's identity.

It should be Mark Evans, the present head of the illustrious Evans family in Czanch.

Mark possessed a distinction that set him apart from the rest of his family. He held a prestigious position in his career as a politician.

Regarding the other members of the Evans family, they dabbled in business and the arts. Yet, when critical decisions had to be made, it was Mark who assumed the mantle of authority.

Mark's lifelong singularity had become the stuff of legends.

Throughout his existence, he had ceaselessly sought out his long-lost twin sister.

Gazing outwards, Korbyn's voice resonated softly, laden with a tinge of caution.

“This gentleman from the Evans family may appear unassuming but behind closed doors, he is ruthless. Many have perished due to his machinations. Waylen... How did you manage to incur his wrath?"

Waylen entertained a few hypotheses.

However, he chose not to divulge them explicitly. Sporting an enigmatic smile, he merely replied, "Perhaps it is due to the scarcity of members within the Evans family. They may be seeking a suitable son-in-law.”

Korbyn's anger skyrocketed.

He extinguished his cigarette and hissed vehemently, “Accompany me downstairs to receive our esteemed guest."

With that, Korbyn descended the staircase, accompanied by his son.

In the grand hall of the Fowler estate, a figure of elegance stood tall, hands tucked behind his back, his gaze fixated upon an authentic painting adorning the wall.

Though his features were not distinctly visible, the gracefulness of his posture was resplendent.

Upon hearing the approaching footsteps, the man turned around, a faint smile playing upon his lips.

Despite being in his forties, he exuded a remarkable charm, appearing no older than thirty-five or thirty-six.

Korbyn experienced a jolt of astonishment within.

However, the more affable Mark appeared, the more Korbyn sought to interject with a touch of sarcasm.

Of course, Korbyn was no stranger to the art of deception. Far from being taken aback, he warmly extended his hand, greeting Mark, "Mr.

Evans, do you happen to admire the painting that caught your attention?"

Sporting a genial smile, Mark responded, "Mr. Fowler, would I dare to pilfer your cherished possession?"