"Hansim!!"
Viscount Gurman's voice boomed across the hall, sharp and filled with rage.
"Escort all these trash guests OUT! NOW!!"
The nobles flinched as if they'd been struck.
Hansim, as calm as ever, bowed slightly, then snapped his fingers once.
Immediately, dozens of house guards stepped forward.
Silent, precise, like a black wave—they formed a line at the edges of the hall.
"You heard the Viscount," Hansim said in a cold, flat voice.
"All of you—leave. Immediately."
"W-What!? This is a mistake—!" one merchant stammered, sweat glistening on his forehead like oil.
"Because of all of YOU!!" Gurman shouted, cutting him off.
"You arrogant bastards!! You just ruined my only chance to gain royal favor!!"
His hand swept through the air, nearly knocking over a decorative vase.
"If this gets to the princess' ears… UGH!! No title! No land! NOTHING!!"
A noble woman dressed in glittering red stepped forward, trying to reason.
"My lord, surely this can be discussed—"
