I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"These bastards from the Royal Navy really don't have anything better to do," a rough voice rang out inside the lively tavern.

The place was bustling—large, noisy, and filled with the scent of rum and sea salt. Laughter and shouting echoed through the air as pirates drank to their heart's content. Women weaved through the crowd, some entertaining drunken sailors, others sharing in the revelry—some of them were pirates themselves.

But in a slightly secluded corner, a group of six sat around a table, drinking lazily. Unlike the rest, they weren't lost in the chaos. Their presence alone attracted attention, drawing lingering stares from the crowd.

James took a long swig from his bottle before turning to a man with dark hair and a thick black beard. "Why the hell are you bringing up those Royal Navy fuckers while we're supposed to be resting, Thatch?"

Thatch shifted his dark eyes toward James, his usual scowl in place. Instead of answering, he turned his gaze toward another man at the table—one who stood out from the rest. Unlike the rugged, sea-worn look of most pirates, this man had neatly slicked-back brown hair, a neat coat, and a well-kept hat. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a nobleman's parlor rather than a pirate's den.

"Tell him, Kidd," Thatch muttered.

Kidd let out a sigh. "The British Empire has started offering a handsome sum of gold to any pirate willing to abandon their ways and serve the British Crown instead. They want them to hunt down their own kind. They're calling them Pirate Hunters."

"Pirate Hunters, huh?" Jack Rackham scoffed, slouching further into his chair. He was already drunker than most in the tavern, a lazy smirk on his lips. "The cowards who join the British won't be a problem for us, right, Bonny?"

Anne Bonny, the redhead beauty perched on his lap, smirked before leaning in to kiss him. "Any pirate willing to sell their soul to the Crown is just a spineless coward," she said. "They won't be a threat to us."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Kidd said, swirling the drink in his hand. "Most pirates are in this life for gold. If the British Crown starts throwing enough of it around, plenty of them will forget why they became pirates in the first place and switch sides. They will lose their raison d'être."

"Raison d'être," James mocked with a smirk, kicking his feet up onto the table. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs. "You really sound like some delicate little bitch from the royal court, Kidd."

"Kahaha!" Rackham let out a loud laugh, raising his bottle in agreement.

Kidd grimaced but held his tongue.

"Can't help it," Anne Bonny said with a teasing smile. "Kidd used to be a noble before he decided to join us."

"He'd better have," Rackham chuckled, turning toward the silent woman sitting among them. She had jet-black hair, striking red eyes, and an air of coldness. Unlike the rest, she wasn't drinking—just listening. "Otherwise, Mary would've killed him."

"I didn't become a pirate out of fear," Kidd snapped. "I chose this life. Hell, I even turned down the British Empire's offer myself." His glare swept across the table.

James smirked. "I bet you did."

Kidd groaned, narrowing his eyes at him. "Since you're so obsessed with gold, I'm surprised you didn't take the British up on their royal pardon, Captain Grayling."

He had a point.

Everyone at the table knew James' reputation—his insatiable hunger for gold. Out of all of them, he was the greediest. It was, in fact, strange that he had refused the Crown's offer.

"We all know why," Rackham said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "Right, Grayling?"

Anne Bonny immediately slid off Rackham's lap, sensing where this was going.

James kept his easy smile. "Oh? And what reason could that be, Rackham?"

"You're really asking?" Rackham let out a drunken chuckle. "Everyone knows you fucked the British Empress, but you got dumped—"

-BAM!

Before he could finish, James sent him flying. Rackham crashed through the tavern wall, landing sprawled out on the ground outside.

Groaning, he lifted his bottle for one last sip before grinning and closing his eyes, passing out cold.

James raised his bottle high and began emptying it in long, slow gulps.

Around him, the others kept drinking as if nothing had happened. Rackham getting knocked through a wall by James wasn't exactly unusual. If anything, the real surprise was that James hadn't killed him yet. Then again, everyone at the table knew—whether they admitted it or not—that James considered Rackham one of the few people he could actually call a friend. In fact, every person sitting around this table fell into that rare category.

"Hornigold accepted their offer," Thatch said, exhaling smoke from his pipe. Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire

"Who gives a damn?" James muttered, his expression darkening. "I always knew that bastard never had any balls. Just like Drake."

Mary, who had been quietly watching, smirked. "Are you planning to string Hornigold's guts up like you did with Drake?"

James toyed with the ruby pendant around his neck, grinning. "If I see that traitor, yeah."

"If I see him first, I'll cut his balls off and make him eat them," Anne snorted as she slid into Rackham's now-empty seat.

"..." Kidd grimaced but said nothing, clearly not sharing the taste of his fellow captains' unique methods of execution.

Thatch took another slow drag from his pipe. "Where are you heading next, Grayling?"

James tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if contemplating. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Asturias."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Asturias?"

"It's in the north of the Spanish Empire…" Kidd answered, but his brows furrowed as he glanced at James. "What exactly are you planning to do there?"

James smirked. "Kidnap the Spanish princess."

****

"Mr. Grayling!"

"Huh?"

James blinked awake, his eyes snapping open. He found himself staring at the ceiling of a lecture hall, the dull hum of the room settling in around him. He let out a lazy yawn, completely unbothered by the silence that had followed his name being called.

His first instinct was to glance at the person next to him. Angel sat there, her expression unreadable, before she coolly turned her gaze away.

James stretched, casually shifting his legs off the desk where he had been lounging. As he did, he was met with the sight of Professor Norman Columbus glaring at him. The man, usually the picture of composure and elegance, was visibly struggling to keep his temper in check.

James had only been attending this history class for a few weeks, and yet in that short time, he had managed to test the professor's patience more times than anyone thought possible. Columbus was known for his impeccable self-control, but James seemed to be an exception to the rule.

"What's up?" James asked, blinking at him innocently.

The room was filled mostly with fourth-year students, and they were all staring at him like he was some kind of anomaly. And in a way, he was. He had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be a new student, and had taken the empty seat next to Angel Elysphira—the one girl no one dared to approach. And yet, here he was, chatting with her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, Professor Columbus had assumed James was just another transfer student. But that illusion didn't last long. It quickly became clear that James wasn't. He was a first year student who was skipping his classes for his classes.

It had literally no senses.

The logical course of action would have been to kick him out.

But he didn't.

Why?

Because James was close to Angel—closer than anyone had ever seen. They talked like old friends, and the mere thought of upsetting her was enough to make the professor hesitate. And so, against all reason, James remained.

Still, one question lingered—why was he even here?

He clearly had no interest in history. The only plausible explanation was that he was sticking around for Angel.

"You're bothering the class, peasant! Don't you understand?"

One of the noble students finally mustered the courage to speak. Though, notably, he avoided looking directly at Angel as he did so.

James arched a brow, his gaze shifting to the young man who had just spoken. He sized him up lazily before his lips curled in mild amusement.

"Damn…" He muttered, tilting his head. "Who the hell gave you that haircut? You actually paid for that? Didn't have enough money? If I had any, I'd lend you some out of pity. But, hey, if you want, I can fix it with my saber."

"..."

The nobleman's mouth hung open in shock. He had paid 200 Lux for this haircut—by one of the best stylist in the city.

The quiet lasted only a moment before it was shattered by uproarious laughter echoing through the lecture hall.

The young noble's face turned crimson with anger as he clenched his fists. But despite his fury, he didn't dare make a move. He could only glare at James, who was smirking at him with that same irritatingly smug expression.

"Mr. Grayling. You're disrupting the class. Out."

Professor Norman Columbus finally made his move. It was the tenth time this had happened, and by now, everyone was used to it.

In fact, most of the students—especially the women—almost felt disappointed. As annoying as he was, James brought some much-needed entertainment to their otherwise dull history lectures. If it weren't for Angel being around and looking suspiciously like his girlfriend, more than a few of them would have already tried asking him out.

James sighed, frowning slightly. "Again?"

Stretching his arms, he finally swung his legs off the desk and stood up. Then, without hesitation, he reached over and took Angel's hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Let's go, Miss Angel."

Angel, as always, followed without a word.

History was the only class Angel never skipped—normally. At first, she had refused to leave whenever James got kicked out, staying behind to finish the lesson. But James had been persistent, and before long, she started walking out with him every time.

Because truthfully, she was having a lot more fun with James than she ever did sitting through class.