ISEKAI? More like I See Crap!
Chapter 251: A Signed Truce ( 251 )

Chapter 251: A Signed Truce ( 251 )

Hansim pressed his left palm firmly to his chest, bowing with solemn respect.

"With this... my lord will be truly relieved. And thank you again, Mister Hazuki. We are sincerely sorry for what happened during the party."

Hazuki shrugged. "Nah, don’t mention it."

Hansim smiled faintly, the weight on his shoulders lifting just a little.

"Thank you again, Mister Hazuki."

"You’re welcome." Hazuki paused, then scratched the back of his head and added casually, "Oh—and when I leave... if you visit here, at least bring some food for the kids."

Hansim’s smile deepened, his eyes softening.

"Of course," he said warmly. "You have my word."

Hansim rode out from the orphanage gates, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the dirt road.

Behind him, the cheerful voices of the children rang out.

"Bye-bye, Grandpa Hansim!!"

"Visit again soon!!"

He raised a gloved hand in silent farewell, not turning back, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves echoed down the path as he passed through the outlying fields of Macia. The smell of freshly tilled soil, distant chatter from the stalls, and the crisp breeze brushing against his cloak—all of it blurred as his thoughts sharpened.

With this... Lord Gurman won’t have to suffer another headache from arrogant nobles or foolish guests. The document is signed, the savior acknowledged, and the orphanage secured.

No stain on the lord’s name. No whispers in the royal court. No disgrace in front of those who matter.

The guards at the town gate stiffened as he approached.

"Good morning, Sir Hansim!"

Hansim gave a curt nod without slowing.

No time to waste.

Now to prepare for the next stage... the royal auditors may come, especially if whispers from court reach their ears.

And when they ask about the black-haired human, I’ll place the signed paper on the table and smile.

Let the others choke on their own doubt.

His eyes narrowed with quiet pride.

This is how things are done. Not with noise. Not with threats. But with tact, respect... and results.

Meanwhile, in the Gurman Household Estate...

Viscount Gurman lay sprawled across his massive velvet-lined bed, staring blankly at the canopy above him. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, and his limbs twitched from nervous tension.

His hand trembled as he clutched the silk bedsheet.

"I’m doomed... I’m doomed..." he muttered. "Because of that pig-faced merchant brat... and that rotten-teeth noble’s son..."

He sat up abruptly, flailing.

"I should’ve punched that mouth! Personally! Right in those gold-plated molars!"

He groaned and collapsed again, arms splayed dramatically.

"My only chance to get recognition from the royal family... gone. One step away—one step!—from being summoned to court, from being called Count Gurman... and now I’ll be lucky if they don’t call me Stablemaster Gurman."

He buried his face into a pillow.

"I even paid for those nobles’ wine! And what did they do? Drive away the only man who could have gotten me there!"

A knock at the door.

Gurman didn’t respond.

Another knock.

"My Lord?"

"...Go away. I’m wallowing."

The door creaked open. It was one of his household aides, cautiously peeking in.

"Sir Hansim has returned."

Gurman bolted upright.

"...With news?"

The aide nodded.

"He requests to see you in the drawing room. He said, and I quote, ’bring wine and dismiss everyone else.’"

Gurman blinked. Then his eyes widened.

"...Did he succeed?"

The aide gave a tiny smile.

"I think you’ll want to hear it from him directly, my lord."

Gurman’s footsteps echoed sharply down the marbled corridor, his once "sick" body now moving with the speed of a beastkin athlete fleeing debt collectors.

Servants flattened against the walls as their lord rushed by, his robe flapping like a flag of desperation.

"Please... please let it be good news..." Gurman muttered under his breath, sweat now rolling from his temples for a completely different reason.

If Hansim failed...

He could already picture it. The cold, unblinking stares of the royal tax auditors. The smug faces of rival nobles whispering behind fans. The dreaded letter bearing the royal seal.

’Due to your house’s disgraceful conduct toward a royal-linked guest, tribute from the Gurman household shall be doubled effective immediately...’

"No, no no no no no—!!"

He nearly kicked open the door to the drawing room.

Inside, Hansim stood by the fireplace, calmly pouring himself a glass of wine from the estate’s best stock. One leg casually crossed over the other. A small stack of sealed scrolls and one fine piece of parchment sat on the polished table beside him.

"Hansim!!" Gurman barked, half-panicked, half-hopeful.

Hansim turned slowly, glass in hand, expression composed as ever.

"My lord," he said smoothly, offering a bow. "I bring good news."

Gurman’s eyes went wide.

"Y-you mean—?"

Hansim took a sip of his wine, then set the glass down with deliberate elegance.

"The human—Hazuki—has accepted peace between himself and your house. I obtained written proof of your mutual understanding, complete with his signature."

He picked up the parchment and held it out.

Gurman rushed over and snatched it like a starving man finding bread. His eyes scanned the document, lips trembling as he read.

"...He even added a note: ’Don’t blame the mustache guy too much.’"

Hansim smirked faintly.

Gurman fell back into a chair, relief.

"I’m saved! I’m saved!!"

"By the way, my lord."

"Yes?"

"The human adventurer... well, he’s asking for a small favor. Very small."

"...A small favor?" Gurman asked cautiously.

Hansim calmly brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve.

"Yes. He simply asked that the orphanage be kept under watch. Nothing grand. Just a promise that the place will be protected in his absence."

Gurman blinked.

"...That’s it?"

Hansim nodded. "That’s it."

The viscount slumped in his seat, relief washing over him.

"Oh, thank the ancestors. I thought he was going to ask for land. Or my daughter."

He wiped his forehead theatrically.

"Protection? I’ll triple the patrol routes near the orphanage. I’ll assign it its own guard post," Gurman said, voice somewhat boastful.

Hansim smiled with satisfaction. "Very wise, my lord."

...But then Gurman’s expression froze, stiffening as suspicion crept in.

"...Wait," he said, suddenly tense. "He doesn’t have any noble documents proving ownership over that place, does he? Like a deed? That kind of thing could get messy..."

Hansim waved a hand dismissively. "No, no. It remains under town jurisdiction. The favor was requested not as a noble—just a man looking out for the children."

Gurman slumped even further, his body practically oozing down the chair like melted butter.

"...I love that human," he whispered to himself.

Hansim raised a brow. "My lord?"

"Nothing!" Gurman snapped, quickly composing himself.

( End Of Chapter )