I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist-Chapter 178: [Flashback] [Isaac Crawford] [4]

"I don't like people who talk too much," he said as he channeled mana through his revolver once more. "Get on your knees. Now."

Nimue kept her amused smile, lifting her hands in surrender as she gracefully descended to the ground. Her movements were almost fluid and slow like a dancer putting on a performance rather than someone at the mercy of a loaded gun.

Isaac, however, wasn't entertained. His gaze locked onto her, his grip around his revolver. That smug little smile of hers was starting to get on his nerves.

"I said, get on your knees," he repeated, as he aimed the barrel at her.

Nimue tilted her head. "On my knees? Oh, but I'd rather not ruin my dress," she said with a playful giggle. "I did just surrender, didn't I? Shouldn't that be enough?"

Isaac wasn't buying it. There was no way someone like her would surrender this easily—not without a game in mind. It really looked like a trap than anything else. "Why did you attack Cateran?" He asked.

Nimue blinked at him as if surprised by his question. Then, as if answering a foolish question, she gestured lazily toward the city behind them. "Attacked? Tell me, Lord Crawford, does it look like I've attacked it?"

Isaac's gaze flickered to the city. Not a single sign of destruction except the one he had caused. No fires, no crumbling buildings—just silence.

"Where are the residents?" He asked. "How many did you kill? Or… did you slaughter them all?"

At that, Nimue's smile widened.

Isaac narrowed his eyes.

She was enjoying this.

"Lord Crawford," she said, raising her hands again in exaggerated surrender. "I must say, I find your perspective on Charentra adorable. You see us as villains, monsters to be wiped out."

Isaac didn't flinch. "I don't care what you are. Every last one of you should die."

Nimue pouted. "Not even a beautiful woman like me?"

His finger twitched against the trigger. If it weren't for the Emperor's orders to take her alive, he wouldn't have hesitated.

Just then, one of his knights approached and leaned in to whisper.

"Lord Crawford, we've surrounded the city."

Isaac gave a slight nod before shifting his gaze back to Nimue. "You're going to order your men to surrender. Now."

She tapped a finger against her chin, considering. "And if I do? Will you promise not to harm them?"

"They'll drop their weapons and keep their mouths shut," Isaac said coldly. "If they don't, I'll put a bullet in their heads."

Nimue chuckled. "My, how terrifying you are, Lord Crawford." Then, with a small shrug, she added, "Very well. I'll tell them to cooperate. We haven't so much as touched the people of Cateran—I do hope you'll return the courtesy."

"I will return the courtesy with a bullet in your head if you try anything funny," Isaac said, his voice devoid of warmth as he strode toward her.

As the Empire's Secretary, it was his duty to bring her in—she was too valuable to be left to her own devices. But that didn't mean he would hesitate to kill her if she became a threat. His loyalty was to the Empire, and nothing, not even a beautiful witch, would make him waver.

One of the knights stepped forward, handing Isaac a length of restraining rope. It wasn't just any rope—this one was imbued with mana-nullifying properties, designed specifically for subduing sorcerers. Taking it without a word, Isaac moved behind Nimue.

"Lord Crawford, I don't think that's necessary," Nimue said with a sigh, as if she were merely being inconvenienced rather than arrested.

"You don't get to decide that," Isaac replied.

He didn't trust anyone from Charentra. In truth, he hardly trusted anyone at all—not even his own men. Belief in others was a luxury he couldn't afford. And Nimue wasn't just anyone; she was a sorceress, a witch capable of weaving deception with nothing but a whispered incantation. It would be foolish to underestimate her.

"Your hands," he ordered, leveling his revolver at her back.

Nimue simply smiled and crossed her wrists behind her. There was an air of amusement in her movements, as if this was all a game. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Isaac stepped in to secure her bindings, wrapping the enchanted rope tightly around her wrists.

"I must say, Lord Crawford…." Nimue spoke up again, glancing over her shoulder at Isaac's face. "You are quite the handsome man. From a distance, you already looked devastatingly attractive, but up close?" She giggled. "Easily the most striking man I've ever seen."

Isaac ignored her flattery, tightening the knots with methodical precision. He had no interest in indulging her charms.

Nimue tilted her head, not bothered by his silence. "And what do you think of me, Lord Crawford?" She asked. "I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I'm fairly certain I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on." She let out a soft chuckle. "Men tend to lose their composure around me, even knowing what I am. Just look at your knights—they can't help but stare."

Isaac cast a glance at his men, and sure enough, they were all staring—blinking, mesmerized, utterly disarmed by Nimue's presence. Her beauty wasn't just striking; it was spellbinding. Every curve, every delicate feature seemed meticulously crafted to draw the eye, and clearly, his soldiers were struggling to keep their composure.

Yet, he felt nothing.

"Fascinating," Nimue muttered, tilting her head with genuine curiosity. "You didn't even flinch. I must admit, I'm quite surprised—and intrigued."

Isaac's gaze darkened. Without hesitation, he grasped her arm and pulled her closer, his cold eyes locking onto hers. "Are you using a charm spell?" He asked.

He had seen beautiful women before, but never had he witnessed his men unravel so quickly in the presence of one. Their dazed expressions, their lack of discipline—it was unsettling. The only explanation that made sense to him was that she had cast some sort of enchantment over them.

Nimue, however, merely blinked before bursting into laughter.

Isaac's stare remained still. But if he had intended to intimidate her, it had the opposite effect—she only smiled wider, as if his reactions were endlessly amusing to her.

"Oh, Lord Crawford," she chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I don't need magic to do this." Her voice dropped into a teasing whisper. "But if I were using a charm spell, you would have been my first target."

Before Isaac could respond, she leaned in ever so slightly, her warm breath ghosting against his ear.

A sharp jolt of something foreign shot through him.

His entire body tensed. His fingers momentarily stiffened around the rope, and for the first time in what felt like years, his composure cracked—just slightly, just enough for a flicker of something to cross his face.

"...!"

'What the hell was that?'

Isaac's expression twisted, his usual cold demeanor disturbed by the unexpected sensation. No one had ever done something like that to him before—no one.

His revolver was against her back in an instant.

"Do you have a death wish, Witch?"

Nimue didn't look the least bit threatened. Instead, she giggled, a playful lilt in her voice. "I apologize~ I just couldn't help myself."

Her teasing smile remained, utterly unbothered by the fact that a gun was pressed against her spine.

Isaac stared at her.

What was she playing at?

Was this woman truly one of Charentra's leaders? She acted more like a reckless child than someone who commanded fear and influence.

But before he could dwell on it further, Nimue suddenly spoke again—this time, her voice softer, more sincere.

"Lord Crawford…" She gazed up at him, her purple eyes catching the light. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Isaac didn't react.

For a moment, he simply stared back, caught in the strange sincerity of her words. Then, without another thought, he grasped her arm and forcefully turned her around.

"Walk," he ordered, dragging her forward toward Cateran.

Nimue only smiled.

"Anything you wish, Isaac Crawford."