ISEKAI? More like I See Crap!-Chapter 246: The Cost of Disrespect ( )

"Ah—please wait, Mister Hazuki..."

Hansim’s voice was calm, but urgent.

He took a slow step forward, not raising his hands, not begging—just trying.

But Hazuki didn’t stop.

He reached the tall doors of the grand hall.

Then paused.

He glanced back.

Eyes cold. Voice flat.

"I already told you before, didn’t I?"

His gaze narrowed.

"I’ll leave if those kids are treated like trash."

A wave of silence rolled over the hall again.

Hansim didn’t respond immediately.

He lowered his gaze, remembering the terms of the agreement—Hazuki only agreed to attend if the children were treated as honored guests.

He was right.

This wasn’t just a scene.

It was a line being drawn.

And now, Hazuki had chosen where he stood.

"Oi Kisha!!" Hazuki called without turning back, voice loud and clear.

"Gather those kids—we’re leaving!"

"Y-Yes, Mister Hazuki!" Kisha replied, already moving.

The children, still clutching their half-eaten plates and confused by the tense mood, looked to her for direction.

"Come on, everyone—stay close!" she said, her voice steady despite the stares.

The nobles, still recovering from the weight of the earlier pressure, watched in silence as the small group began to leave.

The kids rushed across the hall—some with crumbs on their cheeks, some still chewing.

Not a single one cried.

Hazuki walked with slow, heavy steps, hand in his pocket, ignoring the murmurs around him.

As Hazuki and the children approached the wide entrance, a wave of armored footsteps echoed across the marble floor.

Personal guards from various noble families—each one elite, trained, and handpicked—rushed forward to block the exit.

"You there! Halt!"

"That man just threatened the hall!"

"Stand down and explain yourself—"

Hazuki didn’t stop.

His gaze stayed forward.

His arm moved.

With a single sweeping punch, the air exploded.

A shockwave shot through the front line of guards like a cannonball through paper.

Steel clattered.

Men flew.

Seven fully armed guards hit the walls, pillars, floor—crumpling on impact, unconscious before they hit the ground.

The hall fell into dead silence.

Hazuki didn’t even glance at them.

"Trash."

His voice was low, cold, and cut through the air like a blade.

"You think someone who cleared out dozens of high-level monsters from two separate rifts..."

He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles once.

"...can be stopped by a bunch of dressed-up errand boys?"

Hazuki glanced back at the kids following him.

He noticed a few of them still chewing, cheeks puffed out, hands holding onto plates they managed to carry with them.

His eyes narrowed.

"Oi."

They froze.

"Spit that out. Now."

His voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of stunned murmurs behind them.

The children blinked, unsure.

"I said spit it out!" Hazuki barked, stepping closer. "If you want food, I’ll pay for it myself later. We don’t eat what’s given to us like scraps."

A few kids looked down, then slowly did as told—spitting the food onto the ground nearby.

"...You don’t need to eat anything from people who don’t even want you in the same room."

Kisha stared at him, surprised. Even some of the nobles still standing inside the hall had gone pale.

Hazuki stood by the carriage, arms crossed, watching closely as each child climbed in—one by one.

He didn’t say much.

Just nodded when he saw each face pass.

Kisha helped the smaller ones up, glancing back now and then, unsure if something else might explode behind them.

Once all the kids were seated, Hazuki grabbed the edge of the carriage, climbed up himself, and dropped into his seat with a tired sigh.

He tapped the front wooden panel of the carriage twice.

"Bring us back to town."

The coachman nodded.

"Yes, sir."

With a crack of the reins, the carriage began to roll away from the grand estate—its golden lights and hollow noise fading behind them.

Hazuki leaned back, closed his eyes.

He didn’t care about the party.

He didn’t care about the nobles.

But he made damn sure the kids understood one thing:

They were never trash.

After Hazuki and the kids left, the heavy sound of polished boots echoed down the grand staircase.

Viscount Gurman descended with a broad smile, arms open wide.

His deep green and gold robe shimmered beautifully in the chandelier light. Behind him, several retainers and local nobles followed, whispering excitedly.

"Ah, Hansim!" the Viscount greeted warmly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Where is he? Where is our hero? The man of the hour?"

His eyes searched the hall eagerly.

"Where is our special guest? Where is Mister Hazuki?"

The nobles around him said nothing.

They looked down at the floor.

Some shifted uncomfortably. Others clenched their teeth. A few even looked like they were sweating nervously.

In front of the entrance, Hansim stood silently, hands behind his back.

Kneeling before him were half a dozen of the household staff—the ones who had earlier mocked and pushed Hazuki’s guests to the back.

Their heads were bowed low.

The atmosphere in the room felt heavy.

Hansim spoke slowly and firmly.

"He’s gone."

Gurman blinked in surprise.

"...Gone?" he asked sharply.

Hansim nodded once.

"He left."

A long silence followed. Gurman’s smile slowly faded.

"Why? What happened?"

Hansim didn’t look away.

"Because the children he came with were insulted. Treated like beggars. Pushed to the back by our own servants."

"What!?" Gurman’s voice cracked. "Who—!?"

Hansim raised a hand slightly to stop him.

"They’ve already been identified. They’re the ones kneeling."

"Do you know what you’ve just done?" Gurman shouted at the servants, frustration clear in his voice.

But no one answered.

Hansim’s gaze was cold.

"You told me once, my lord... to make sure everything goes just right."

"But these fools do as they please, thinking they’re special just because of they serving noble household."

"You all—motherfuckers!!"

Viscount Gurman roared, his voice booming like thunder across the marble walls of the hall.

Everyone froze.

Wine goblets trembled.

Fans stopped mid-wave.

The music, which had quietly started again, suddenly cut off.

Gurman’s face was flushed with rage, his eyes wide with disbelief and disgust as he pointed directly at the rows of nobles, merchants, and honored guests.

"Do you know who that black-haired human was!?"

Silence fell.

Some nobles shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say. Others looked around, trying to act innocent.

"HE IS OUR PRINCESS’ FIANCÉE!!" Gurman shouted loudly.

"The man who made the sacred pinky promise with Princess Ellyna herself!!"

A gasp of shock swept through the crowd.

A few nobles even spilled their drinks.

"T-That’s impossible!"

"The human...?"

"That scruffy man...?"

"Wasn’t he just a common adventurer!?"

Gurman’s finger swept across all of them.

"You worthless nobles—mocking his guests, insulting the children he brought, treating his companions like rats!?"

"You want to get executed? Or have your houses stripped of rank for offending royalty!?"

The nobles turned pale.

Some began to tremble.

One elderly merchant visibly swayed and fainted on the spot.

Hansim stood silently beside Gurman, arms crossed, nodding once in approval.

"You had one job," Gurman snarled, lowering his voice in a venomous tone.

"Smile. Bow. Be polite."

"And instead, you insulted the future consort of the royal family."

He turned to the kneeling servants.

"You’re all fired. Immediately. Hansim—take care of the paperwork. Burn their contracts."

Hansim bowed slightly.

"Already done, my lord."

( End Of Chapter )

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