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

Elysia walked down the long corridors of the mansion, her footsteps silent against the polished floors, yet her mind was anything but quiet. The conversation she had just shared with Damien replayed in her head, turning over like a puzzle she had yet to solve.

The herbs he had requested.

'Starfire Root. Nightshade Thistle. Emberleaf. Frostcap Petals. Titan's Bark. Hollow Ivy.'

Every single one of them was difficult to acquire. Not just rare, but restricted—regulated due to their inherent properties, some even classified as hazardous materials. The general public had no access to them. Even merchants who dealt in medicinal ingredients wouldn't be able to supply such a collection without going through the proper channels.

And yet—

He had given her a location.

'Garrick's. Eastern district. Ashen Row.'

That meant he already knew where to get them.

That alone was… odd.

Damien Elford had never taken interest in anything that required effort. The idea that he would be aware of an apothecary tucked away in the eastern district—a place she herself had never been ordered to visit—was baffling.

'No. It's not impossible. There is an explanation for this.'

Her thoughts drifted back to his past habits, the vices that had ruled his life.

Could it be related to the drugs he had used?

It was a logical assumption. A man like Damien—one who had spent years indulging in whatever fleeting pleasure money could buy—could very well have connections to illicit suppliers. Perhaps this Garrick's was a place he had frequented before, a place where he had procured something far more illicit than medicinal herbs.

'That would explain how he knew. But it does not explain why.'

Starfire Root was known to raise body temperature drastically, commonly used in extreme detoxification treatments—mostly for those who had suffered from poison exposure or substance withdrawal.

Nightshade Thistle could enhance metabolic function, but only in dangerous doses. If consumed improperly, it could induce fever, hallucinations, or even organ failure.

Emberleaf worked as a stimulant, often mixed into elixirs that warriors used to push their bodies past normal physical limits.

Frostcap Petals were used in cryogenic treatments, usually to counteract heat-based illnesses.

Titan's Bark… A substance so dense and bitter that only the most experienced herbalists knew how to process it. It was said to fortify the body against external damage—but only if paired with the correct alchemical mixture.

And Hollow Ivy—

Elysia's fingers twitched slightly.

That one was the strangest of them all.

Hollow Ivy was not used in any conventional medicine. It was a parasitic plant, one that absorbed mana and neutralized magical properties in whatever it was mixed with. Mages despised it. Its only known use was in anti-magic solutions, meant to suppress those who wielded mana in battle.

'But Damien is not Awakened.'

That much, she knew.

For all his privilege, for all his power as an Elford by blood, he had never shown a single trace of mana sensitivity. He was no fighter. No mage. No cultivator of power.

And yet, he had requested all these things.

And—

Healing potions.

One hundred of them.

Elysia's lips pressed into a thin line.

That was the most absurd request of all.

Potions only worked on those who possessed mana. Their effects were tied directly to a person's natural flow of energy. To anyone else, they were nothing more than glorified bitter water.

So why would he want them?

'Is he planning to sell them?'

No, that made no sense. If he wanted to profit off rare goods, he could have easily ordered her to acquire something far more valuable—something actually worth smuggling.

Then…

'Does he believe they will work on him?'

Elysia exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as she continued walking.

She had spent years watching Damien destroy himself, watching him throw away everything he had been given, watching him succumb to his own weaknesses over and over again.

But this—this was different.

He was still reckless. Still arrogant.

Yet his recklessness had changed shape.

This was not the reckless indulgence of a man wasting his life away.

This was something else entirely.

He had a goal.

A clear, defined goal.

And for the first time since she had met him—

He had the eyes of a man willing to destroy himself to reach it.

'Fifty-five kilograms in one month. Is that why?'

She did not know what his end goal was. She did not know what he truly intended to do with the things he had asked for.

No matter how she looked at it, this was madness.

Fifty-five kilograms in a month? That wasn't a goal—it was self-destruction.

The human body wasn't meant to shed that much weight in such a short period, not without severe consequences. Even the most extreme warriors, those who underwent brutal conditioning from childhood, wouldn't attempt something so reckless.

The only way to achieve that would be through drastic surgical procedures—dangerous, invasive, life-threatening. And even then, the recovery would take months, not weeks.

Yet, Damien was speaking as if it were certain.

As if this was already set in motion.

'Has he lost his mind?'

That was the most logical answer.

Perhaps this was the final proof of his arrogance, the last desperate act of a man who had realized his own worthlessness.

Perhaps this wasn't determination but self-destruction.

She had seen it before, in different forms. The nobles who threw themselves into reckless vices, gambling away fortunes because they no longer saw a future worth preserving. The warriors who sought out impossible fights, not because they believed they could win, but because they no longer feared death.

Damien had already spent years destroying himself.

This could simply be another way to do it.

'Or maybe…'

Maybe this was just another layer of his arrogance.

Maybe he believed, in that twisted, self-important mind of his, that he could do the impossible simply because he willed it.

That because he had suddenly decided to change, the world would simply bend to accommodate him.

Yes. That was more like him.

The same arrogance that made him waste his wealth, waste his potential, waste the loyalty of those who still remained by his side.

That had to be it.

And yet—

Elysia's steps slowed slightly.

A part of her rejected that answer.

A part of her that had been watching him, reading every shift in his expression, every movement of his body, every change in the air around him.

And that part of her was telling her something she could not explain.

Just as his touch had felt different.

Just as his presence no longer carried the same stifling weight of excess and indulgence.

Just as his voice no longer slurred with laziness, no longer reeked of aimlessness.

This was different, too.

She could not explain it.

She did not want to acknowledge it.

But the thought lingered, stubborn, impossible to silence.

'If he truly changes…'

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

If he truly cast aside the weakness that had defined him for years. If he truly broke free of the gluttony, the indulgence, the pathetic excuses that made him unworthy of the Elford name.

If he truly achieved something impossible—

Then—

Then she would acknowledge him.

Not just in title. Not just in duty.

But completely.

She would acknowledge him as her master.

Not because she was ordered to.

Not because she had no other choice.

But because he would have earned it.

And that was something no Elford had ever done before.

Elysia exhaled slowly, regaining her focus.

'That is still a long way away.'

Right now, he was still the same arrogant fool.

Still the same reckless, impossible man.

But if—if—he truly reached what he sought, then she would have no reason to deny it.

She would witness it herself.

She would test it herself.

And if Damien Elford truly became worthy of standing above others—

Then Elysia Verdant would be the first to kneel.