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

Damien exhaled through his nose, his smirk widening slightly as he leaned back in his chair.

"That whore, Celia?" he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. "She can go fuck herself. I stopped being a bitch and decided that this stupid fucking lifestyle didn't suit me. So, I changed it."

Silence.

For a moment, Kaine, Ezra, and Moren just stared at him.

It was one thing for Damien to have broken off the engagement. That had been shocking enough.

But this?

This casual, almost dismissive way he spoke about Celia Everwyn—the girl he had worshipped for years, the girl he had once bent over backward for?

This wasn't just a break-up.

This was something else entirely.

Ezra was the first to react. He let out a quiet whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Damn," he muttered. "You really are a different person."

Kaine chuckled, but it wasn't his usual careless laugh. There was something off about it—like he was still trying to process the situation. "Man," he muttered, rubbing his chin, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say someone swapped your brain in your sleep."

Damien ignored them.

He had better things to focus on.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his lunch—neatly packed in a sturdy black container.

Prepared exclusively by Elysia.

He could have just ordered her to bring it to him now, of course. A single command, and she would appear without hesitation, serving him as she always had.

But why bother his lovely maid over something this trivial?

Besides, he had always wanted to experience this—opening his own meal, prepared just for him, in a classroom filled with others.

With an easy motion, he flicked open the lid.

Instantly—

A wave of rich, heavy scent spread through the air.

Meat, eggs, and vegetables—all cooked to perfection. The seasoning was potent, the balance of spices just right.

But the meat—

Monster meat.

Unlike regular livestock, monster meat had a stronger scent. A more powerful aroma, one that wasn't entirely familiar to the average noble.

The moment the scent hit the air, Kaine wrinkled his nose. "The fuck is that?"

Ezra blinked. "That… definitely doesn't smell like anything from the cafeteria."

Damien twirled his fork between his fingers, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

The rich scent of the meal filled the air around him, lingering between the desks, stronger than anything the cafeteria could ever hope to serve. He was just about to take his first bite when—

"Alright, we're heading to the cafeteria," Kaine announced, pushing himself up from his chair.

Ezra followed suit, stretching his arms lazily. "Yeah, man. Let's go before all the good food is gone."

Moren hesitated for a second, glancing between Damien and the others before standing up as well. "You coming?"

Damien didn't even look up.

Instead, he waved a hand, his focus still on his meal. "No. You guys go on your own."

A brief pause.

Kaine and Ezra exchanged glances.

Something about that answer felt off.

In the past, Damien had always followed them. He had always gone along with whatever the group was doing, whether it was heading to the cafeteria, skipping class, or wasting time in some club.

But now?

Now, he dismissed them without hesitation.

Without even considering it.

Kaine narrowed his eyes slightly but didn't say anything. Ezra just let out a short exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Suit yourself," Kaine muttered.

And with that, they left.

No questions. No arguments.

Just silence.

Damien didn't watch them go.

Instead, he picked up his fork again, took a bite of his meal, and let the warmth of the food settle in his stomach.

This was better.

This was exactly how he wanted it.

****

The rest of the school day passed without much issue.

There were stares, whispers—as expected. Some from students still shocked by his transformation, others from those trying to piece together what exactly had changed.

But Damien didn't care.

He went through his lessons without distraction, without falling into old habits. No mindless conversations. No pointless interactions. His presence in the classroom was acknowledged, but only in passing. No one dared to approach him, no one tried to engage him in shallow discussions.

It was perfect.

By the time the final bell rang, Damien moved through the academy halls with the same unhurried pace, his mind already shifting toward what mattered.

Training. Planning. Progress.

And just as he stepped past the grand entrance of Vermillion Academy, his car was already waiting.

Elysia stood beside the vehicle, her silver hair neatly tied back, her emerald-green eyes cool and unreadable as she opened the door for him. The moment he stepped in, the scent of the car's leather interior mixed with the faintest trace of lavender—the subtle fragrance she always carried.

As soon as he settled into his seat, Elysia followed, slipping into the driver's seat with practiced grace. The door shut with a soft click, sealing them in from the outside world.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then—

"Young Master."

Damien turned his gaze toward her, watching as she glanced at him briefly through the rearview mirror.

"How was your day at school?"

His lips curled.

How interesting.

A week ago, she wouldn't have asked him that.

She had never once initiated such conversation—not when he had been the old Damien Elford, the pathetic, desperate fool who clung to people who barely tolerated him. Back then, she had only spoken when necessary, only acknowledged him when duty required it.

But now?

Now, she asked.

Not out of obligation. Not out of mere politeness.

But because she noticed the shift.

Because she could see that something was changing.

Damien's smirk widened ever so slightly as he leaned back against the seat.

"Quite good."

He let the words linger, his voice calm, controlled.

Elysia said nothing in response, simply nodding as she turned her attention back to the road.

But Damien saw it.

The way her fingers adjusted slightly on the steering wheel. The way her posture shifted just enough to indicate acknowledgment.

By the time Damien arrived at Blackthorne Villa, the sun was already beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the vast estate. The car rolled smoothly to a stop, and before the driver could even step out, Damien had already opened the door himself.

Elysia, ever composed, simply followed behind as he made his way through the grand entrance, his steps unhurried but filled with purpose.

He had rested all day.

Sitting in class, minimizing movement, letting his body recover passively—it had all been intentional.

Because now?

Now, he could train without holding back.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Heh… Not bad."

Stepping into the training hall, he wasted no time. The moment his foot touched the reinforced flooring, he reached for the mixture—the potion of destruction, the very thing that had fueled his transformation from the beginning.

Without hesitation, he uncorked the vial and drank.

A sharp burn ran down his throat, the alchemical energy igniting in his bloodstream almost immediately. The familiar rush of heat, the tingling cold, the creeping numbness from the poison—it all surged through him.

But something was different.

The pain was less.

His muscles weren't breaking apart as violently. The once unbearable agony that had shredded his body down to nothingness was now merely dull discomfort.

'Tch… So it's happening faster than I expected.'

His body had adapted.

Not just to the destruction, but to the elements within the mixture itself—the extreme heat, the venomous properties, the freezing cold. The very poisons that should have left him gasping for breath were now just… background noise.

His resistances had increased.

'Of course.'

This was good.

This was exactly what he wanted.

He clenched his fists, feeling the raw strength in his limbs as he stepped toward the resistance pool. The real training was about to begin.

Now that the mixture had less effect, he needed to find another one to push even harder.

This time, he wouldn't just destroy his body.

This time, he would forge it into something else entirely.

And he had already something in his mind.

****

Friday Morning.

The rhythmic clang of metal filled the training hall, echoing off the reinforced walls. The scent of sweat, steel, and alchemical residue lingered in the air—a testament to the relentless cycle Damien had subjected himself to over the past week.

Every single day, without fail.

Wake up. Drink the mixture. Push his body to the brink. Get to the school. Recover. Repeat.

Now, it was Friday, and his routine had evolved once again.

The resistance pool had built his endurance, forced his body to move against overwhelming pressure. The high-speed sprinting had sharpened his agility, refined his balance. And now, it was time for the final piece—pure, raw strength.

Damien stood before the barbell rack, the gleaming steel loaded with weights that would have crushed the old him. His body, now stripped of useless fat, pulsed with a new kind of power. His muscles, hardened by destruction and rebirth, had reached a point where they demanded something greater.

He gripped the bar.

The cool metal pressed against his palms, familiar, steady. His breathing was even, controlled.

Then—

He lifted.

The weight came up smoothly, his form rigid, precise. No wasted movement. No excess strain. His body had adapted far beyond what it should have in such a short time.

It wasn't enough.

Again, he lifted. Again, he pushed his muscles to the limit. His arms trembled slightly, not from failure, but from growth—the body recognizing that it needed to change again.

Ding!

A familiar chime rang in Damien's mind, cutting through the rhythmic strain of his training. His fingers remained clenched around the barbell, muscles flexed, tension coiled deep within his frame. But his attention flickered, drawn toward the notification panel that materialized before his eyes.

—----------------------------------

[Passive Skill Evolution Detected]

[Physique of Nature] has evolved.

—----------------------------------

Damien's smirk faltered for just a second.

Then—

A slow, deliberate grin stretched across his lips.

'Finally.'