Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

Victoria's eyes narrowed—not a squint, but that subtle tightening at the corners that came just before something sharp.

She stood her ground, arms crossed lightly over her chest, her weight shifted to one leg like she was trying very hard not to seem tense.

But she was.

Damien could read it. The controlled breath. The practiced stillness. The way her gaze dipped—not far, just a flicker—toward his chest before snapping back up.

'Saw it,' he thought, the grin blooming wider.

"Why, Victoria," he said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets as he took a casual step forward, "were you waiting for me here?"

Her brows twitched.

He tilted his head slightly, tone honeyed with mischief. "Don't tell me you missed me already."

Victoria exhaled through her nose, sharp and quiet, her voice low with irritation. "You know why."

Damien blinked once. "Do I?" he said, smile sharpening at the edges. "Funny, I don't remember asking you to meet me here at sunrise."

"You—" she caught herself, jaw setting tight before continuing, "—you know exactly why."

He let the silence stretch a beat longer, then shrugged, like the idea barely registered.

"Enlighten me," he said, feigning innocence. "Because as far as I recall, you messaged me. And if I remember correctly, you were the one throwing insults by the end of the night."

"Don't play dumb, Damien," she snapped, her voice low but cutting. "I'm not here to dance around your games."

He smiled again, slower this time. Not the smug kind. The dangerous kind—quiet, deliberate.

"Then why are you here?"

Victoria's lips pressed into a thin line.

"To talk," she said finally, each word clipped, like she was forcing them through a sieve of control.

Damien's brow arched slightly. "Oh… to talk?" he echoed, voice light, as if she'd said something hilariously quaint. "Now that's interesting."

He stepped a little closer—casual, unhurried—until the space between them thinned, just enough that she had to tilt her chin up slightly to keep her eyes on his.

"About what?" he asked, the grin never leaving his face. "Football? My diet? You finally coming to terms with how adorable I am when I'm smirking?"

Her glare darkened. "Damien—"

"No, no." He raised a finger, still smiling, his voice dipping to that smooth, deliberate rhythm that always made people second-guess if they were still in control. "You're the one who wanted to talk, Victoria. So talk."

Her jaw clenched again. He could see the flicker of hesitation—her pride caught between her tongue and her throat.

Then her eyes searched his.

Not with malice. Not entirely.

But with a frustrated, conflicted scrutiny. Like she was trying to solve a puzzle that wouldn't stay still.

"Do you…" she began, then stopped. Swallowed. "Do you really not know?"

Damien tilted his head the other way this time, watching her carefully.

The edge of his smirk curled again.

"I may know," he said softly, "or I may not know."

His gaze locked with hers, a quiet challenge simmering just beneath the surface.

"It all depends," he murmured, "on what it is you think you're talking about."

For a moment, there was only silence between them.

The breeze shifted, stirring strands of Victoria's blonde hair across her shoulder. Her emerald eyes hadn't looked away—but Damien wasn't looking at her eyes anymore.

Something pulsed.

Not in the air.

In him.

His pupils contracted slightly, gaze tightening with sharp precision.

A ripple of sensation brushed the inside of his skull—cool, clinical, automatic.

[Neural Predator]

Focus Point: Identified.

His vision sharpened.

Faint outlines ghosted over Victoria's frame—nothing visible to anyone else. Just a subtle luminescence, like heat caught beneath skin.

A single point flared to life.

Her sides. Just below her ribcage.

Not injury. Not mana flow.

Sensitivity.

A vulnerable spot. A reflex point.

Damien's breath left slow through his nose, the rest of the world narrowing in focus as the system's overlay faded back into nothing.

'…That wasn't manual,' he thought. 'I didn't call for it...Does it work like this? Interesting.'

His fingers flexed once in his pocket, subtle, testing.

The trait had activated on its own.

No threat. No fight.

Just proximity… and tension.

And it had still picked up on her.

His eyes flicked back to her face, and this time the smile that curled his lips was quieter. Leaner.

He understood now.

'So that's your weak point, Langley.'

Physically.

He didn't know if it was ticklishness, hypersensitivity, or a reflexive nerve cluster—but the system didn't highlight things by accident.

And now?

He knew it.

He smiled to himself, gaze calm, the glint behind his eyes unreadable.

'Good to know,' he thought. 'It can be useful.'

Just as Damien was cataloging the newfound information—her side, that point of sensitivity, the unexpected gift from the system—Victoria leaned in, her glare sharp enough to draw blood.

"You were the one who mentioned her boyfriend," she snapped, her voice pitched low but edged with heat.

Damien blinked, feigning innocence. "Did I?"

"You—" Her composure cracked, fists tightening at her sides. "Bastard! Don't play with me!"

The words came louder than she intended—sharp enough to carry across the courtyard.

And that was when the real fun began.

DING.

[Hidden Quest Progress: Irritating Perfection – 1/3]

Checkpoint Reached: Visible Emotional Disruption Achieved

The system's message flickered across Damien's vision, smooth and satisfying.

But what drew his attention next were the heads turning.

Students nearby slowed their pace. A few clustered around the archway leading into the garden path—mostly boys, well-dressed, polished, clearly waiting for someone. Admirers. Followers.

And now?

Now they were staring.

At her.

Victoria's eyes widened a fraction as she realized what had just happened.

Her voice.

Too loud.

Too public.

She whipped around slightly, cupping her mouth with both hands, eyes scanning the onlookers with mortified precision. Her cheeks, normally porcelain-perfect, bloomed with color.

And Damien?

He didn't waste the moment.

He leaned in.

Just close enough for only her to hear, his lips nearly brushing the edge of her ear.

"You're getting there," he whispered, voice warm, low, and laced with subtle satisfaction.

Then he stepped back.

No glance. No goodbye.

Just a calm turn of the shoulder and an unhurried walk down the path, hands back in his pockets.

He didn't need to look back.

Because he already knew—

She was watching.

Still flushed, still burning, still fuming in that elegant little shell of hers.

And she'd just given him exactly what he wanted.

*****

Victoria stood frozen, her body angled toward the path Damien had just strolled down, her heart pounding behind her ribs like it wanted out.

"You're getting there," he'd said.

The warmth of his breath still lingered at the shell of her ear—haunting. Mocking. A whisper with the weight of a hammer.

And with that single line, she knew.

Not suspected.

Not doubted.

Knew.

He knew about Marek.

He knew about the relationship. About the alley. About the lie beneath her smile and the threadbare privacy she clung to like a shield. It wasn't a guess. It wasn't a bluff.

It was confirmed.

Her fingers curled tightly into the sleeves of her jacket, nails biting faint crescents into her palms. Her throat burned with questions, but none had answers. Not the kind she could speak aloud.

What does he want?

Why hasn't he said anything?

Is he… waiting to spread it?

Or worse—waiting to leak it?

Damien Elford didn't move without purpose. He didn't wield his words like blades unless he planned to leave someone bleeding.

But this… this was worse than bleeding.

This was waiting for the blade to fall.

"Lady Langley!"

Voices rose to her left, soft at first, then quicker as feet scraped over stone and shoes clicked hastily across the courtyard.

She turned, snapping back into posture just in time to see three of her usual admirers closing in.

One of them, Julian Hart, held out a bottle of chilled mineral water. "Are you alright? That guy—Damien, right? Did he say something to you?"

"We saw you arguing," another added quickly, his eyes scanning her face. "Is he bothering you again?"

Victoria offered them a strained smile. "It's nothing," she said, her voice clipped but sweet. "Just a misunderstanding."

"But if he said something—"

"He didn't," she said, firmer now. "Don't worry about it."

She knew things like this wouldn't work on Damien Elford.