I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 158: Bribe

Ashok held Hamiel's gaze for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, before raising his hand, fingers gently tapping his spectacles twice.

The motion was deliberate—small, yet enough to catch the blacksmith's attention.

"How about it?"

Hamiel squinted, his trained eyes studying the spectacles with newfound focus.

At first glance, they had seemed completely ordinary—simple eyewear.

And yet—now that he was truly looking, he recognized it for what it was.

An accessory-type artifact, its presence so subtle that even a Grade 6 Blacksmith like himself had overlooked it at first.

There was barely any flow inside it, almost as if it had been designed to mask its own existence—a rarity among enchanted objects.

Hamiel leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued.

"Hoh! You've got quite the hidden artifact there. Now, let's see…"

For a moment, his eyes gleamed, an intense brightness flickering across his gaze before returning to normal—a sign of his deep, expert analysis taking place in an instant.

Then, with certainty, he spoke—

"So, a presence suppression type… and with a condition as well. That explains why it barely has any kind of flow."

His tone carried satisfaction—he had figured it out, identified its core nature within moments.

But then—Hamiel paused, his lips curving into a knowing smile, eyes filled with amusement.

"I'm sure you must be curious about the flow I'm speaking about."

His voice carried an edge of temptation, a subtle challenge woven into his words.

Then—his tone shifted, casual yet clearly laced with intent.

"Though… if you want to know more, you'll have to join the Blacksm—"

Ashok's voice was calm, steady, cutting through Hamiel's lingering attempt at changing the subject—

"The different properties of Mana—elemental or non-elemental, attributed or non-attributed—contained within the artifact during the time of its crafting cannot normally be sensed. They also show signs of change over time."

His explanation was precise, direct—a clear dismissal of Hamiel's bait to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Hamiel's reaction, however, was far from disappointment.

Instead of fading, his smile widened, his amusement only growing.

"Haha! You have some idea about the flow—impressive. But that's not all there is to it. In specific terms, flow refers—"

Ashok cut him off, shutting down the detour completely.

"It seems we're getting off-topic, so why don't we return to enchantment?"

There was no hesitation in his tone, no room left for further diversion.

Hamiel let out a sharp cough, a rough attempt to compose himself before nodding slightly.

"Though the grade of that artifact is pretty low, its presence suppression is already top-notch. And not just top-notch—the effect itself is one of the best I've seen in my life."

His gaze flickered toward the spectacles once more, as if reevaluating them entirely.

"I don't know where you found such a masterpiece."

Hamiel leaned back, arms crossed, his tone carrying the weight of expertise and expectation.

"Coming to the enchantment—there's no point strengthening an already perfect effect. So, an additional enchantment—what kind of magical enhancement-"

Ashok cut him off without hesitation,

"Runal Enchantment."

The words immediately halted Hamiel's casual demeanor.

His expression shifted, skepticism settling into his gaze as he studied Ashok more carefully.

"Runal Enchantment, huh?" Hamiel said, clicking his tongue.

His voice was firm, a slight edge of disbelief lingering beneath it.

"Even the most basic runes cost 10,000 credits. And let me be clear—the Gold Pass discount won't apply to this one. Do you even have that kind of amount? I'd recommend sticking to standard magical enchantments."

His words carried both practicality and caution, an expectation that Ashok would back down from such a costly request.

But Ashok's response was calm, undeterred—

"I will not pay with credits."

Hamiel let out a sharp, abrupt burst of laughter—

"HAHAHA!"

Yet—just as suddenly as the laughter came, his expression twisted entirely.

His amusement vanished, replaced by visible irritation, his tone shifting into outright frustration.

"So, after everything, you came here just to waste my time?"

The air around them grew heavy, a clear sign of Hamiel's growing impatience.

Ashok remained composed, his words carrying the weight of calm defiance—

"I don't know why experienced old folks like you lose patience over the smallest conversations and jump to the most idiotic conclusions."

And then—without another word, he reached into his Storage Ring.

A moment later, a glass bottle emerged.

With a quiet, firm motion, Ashok placed the bottle directly onto the table between them.

Hamiel's anger rose with each word, his frustration mounting until—the word 'idiotic' left Ashok's lips.

In that instant, his hands twitched, his patience snapping—ready to throw Ashok out of the office entirely.

But then—a glint of glass caught his eye.

The moment Ashok withdrew the bottle, Hamiel's rage halted, his emotions shifting rapidly from disbelief to shock.

His eyes widened, the tension leaving his body with every second that passed, his mouth—previously open to shout in anger—now stuck agape, forming an unmistakable 'O'.

For a man who had spent his life in the forge, who had mastered the art of craftsmanship and enchantment, there were few things capable of stunning him into silence.

But this—this was one of them.

Slowly, as if his body had forgotten how to move, Hamiel raised a shaky finger, pointing directly at the bottle.

His voice came in quivering syllables, carrying the weight of utter disbelief—

"T-That… That bottle—is it… S-Spirit Wine?"

Ashok, watching the shock unravel across Hamiel's face, allowed a smirk to form, leaning back slightly.

"I thought I'd have to leave empty-handed if you didn't recognize it."

Yet—the moment those words left his lips, Hamiel moved.

Not in a way Ashok could track, not in a way that was even perceptible—

But in an instant, the bottle that had rested on the table was gone.

Snatched at a speed beyond comprehension, now cradled in Hamiel's hands like a newborn baby.

Hamiel's fingers traced the smooth, cold glass, his motions slow—almost reverent—as he turned the bottle over in his hands.

Though it bore only the emblem of the Southern Duchy, it was more than enough to confirm its authenticity.

And yet—he kept staring, his gaze locked onto the bottle as if it contained the very essence of life itself.

Every few seconds, his hands would shift, moving across its surface, feeling the firmness of the glass, the lingering chill that clung to it.

Not a single drop had been tasted, yet already—Hamiel was lost in its allure.

Watching the absurd display, Ashok exhaled before breaking the silence, his tone laced with dry amusement—

"Stop feeling the bottle up like it's your wife."

The words were blunt, almost crude, but they hit their mark.

Hamiel flinched, his trance momentarily shattered, though his grip on the bottle remained firm.

Even though the insult was heavy, even though it would normally warrant a sharp reaction—Hamiel didn't even seem to care.

His mind was too preoccupied, too enthralled by what lay within the glass in his hands.

Ashok observed the dwarf closely, his expression unreadable as he mused—

'Another weakness of dwarves—they love alcohol, especially rare and expensive ones like these.'

Even now, Hamiel still struggled to lift his gaze from the bottle, his obsession clearly visible, his thoughts wholly consumed by it.

For someone of his stature—a Grade Six Blacksmith capable of crafting a Divine Blade, treasures considered national relics—

A mere 1000 gold should have meant nothing.

And yet—despite all his wealth, despite all his power, Hamiel had never once tasted Spirit Wine.

The first obstacle was the Duke, the sole authority over Spirit Wine, controlling everything—from its production to its distribution.

He ensured that it was released in limited quantities, accessible only to the upper echelons, tightening its exclusivity.

Worse still—resale was strictly prohibited, enforced with severe consequences, increasing its rarity to near-mythical status.

The second obstacle was Hamiel himself.

In the past hundred years, he had never once taken a day off from the Academy, his dedication bordering on obsession.

Which meant—he had heard whispers about the best wine in the Empire, but never once tasted it.

Ashok exhaled dramatically, his voice laced with dry mockery—

"Is a Senior Teacher of the Academy going to snatch a student's property? Just how far has the Academy fallen?"

The words struck like a hammer against metal, snapping Hamiel out of his trance.

His grip faltered, his fingers trembling as he finally placed the bottle back on the table—though his hands still shook faintly, as if reluctant to part with it.

Crossing his arms, he scoffed, attempting to reclaim some dignity.

"There is no way I would do something like that."

But Ashok could tell—the temptation had already taken root.

Hamiel's sharp gaze locked onto Ashok, and Ashok could see a strange kind of fire in Hamiel's gaze.

"But do you even know what you are doing?" asked Hamiel.

Ashok responded —his voice calm, decisive.

"Deal."

The simplicity of the answer only deepened Hamiel's skepticism, his brows furrowing slightly as he exhaled.

"This is no deal. No matter how you look at it, it's a bribe."

His tone carried firmness, yet Ashok remained unfazed, his words carrying an air of complete indifference.

"Then consider it a bribe. I just want my enchantment—I don't care about the meaning behind the words."

There was no moral hesitation, no need for justifications—just a straightforward objective.

"Do you think I—a highly reputed teacher of the Academy—would stoop so low as to break the rules and accept a bribe from a student?" asked Hamiel's as his stance shifting as he raised his head tilting it slightly toward the ceiling showcasing how high his pride was.

Hamiel's words carried the weight of his principles that he was not going to forsake no matter the scenario.