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

<Previous Sunday>

Celia sat down at her desk, inhaling slowly through her nose. She needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to her.

Her fingers moved swiftly, pulling up her contact list, scrolling down to his name.

Damien Elford.

She tapped the call button, bringing the phone to her ear, her posture still composed but her irritation simmering beneath the surface.

The line rang once.

Then twice.

Then—

A sharp, unfamiliar beep.

She pulled the phone away, frowning. What?

She tried again.

Beep.

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable."

A cold, creeping realization slid through her veins like ice.

No.

No, that wasn't right.

She moved to her messages, opening their previous conversations—only to find nothing. A blank screen.

No chat history. No last-seen status.

Nothing.

Like she had never existed in his contact list at all.

Her chest tightened as she quickly moved to check his profile on Stargram.

And then—

A notification appeared.

"This user is unavailable."

Celia's grip on her phone tightened, her nails pressing into the sleek glass screen.

Blocked.

He blocked her.

She stared at the words, as if by sheer force of will, she could make them disappear. As if this was some kind of mistake, some kind of joke—

But it wasn't.

It was real.

Damien Elford had—

Blocked. Her.

A rush of fury surged through her, so sudden and so vile that she had to physically stop herself from hurling the phone across the room.

"That filthy—"

Her breath hitched, her nails digging into her palm.

Disgusting. Disgusting.

A maggot like him. A spineless, pathetic parasite who had done nothing but exist beneath her feet—had dared to cut her off?

The same Damien who had always bent his head when she spoke? The same pathetic loser who never had the guts to talk back?

He thought he could do this?

He thought he had the right to block her?

Her jaw clenched, rage curling around her like a vice.

Celia's breathing was slow, controlled—but inside, a storm raged.

Her fingers curled so tightly around her phone that she almost felt it crack beneath her grip. She forced herself to release it, placing it gently on the desk, but the movement felt unnatural, restrained, as though she were a predator holding back from striking.

Blocked.

That pathetic coward had blocked her.

Damien.

The worthless, spineless, pitiful excuse of a man had actually cut her off?

Her jaw tightened, the muscles in her face twitching with barely contained rage.

'Who do you think you are?'

A parasite like him. A maggot that had survived this long only because she had allowed it.

For years, he had been nothing—less than nothing—a burden she had tolerated, a weight she had carried, a disgrace she had simply accepted because it was necessary.

And now?

Now he had the audacity to walk away first? To block her as if she was the problem?

A deep, sharp breath. Her nails dug into her palm, the sting grounding her, keeping her from letting her emotions swallow her whole.

She wasn't just angry.

She was infuriated.

And she would not let this go.

She could still hear her father's words ringing in her ears.

"Do whatever you can."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't a plea. It was an order.

The Everwyn name had suffered because of this. Her family's standing had been damaged because of this. And Celia Everwyn would not allow herself to be humiliated by the likes of Damien Elford.

'Fine, Damien. You think you can cut me off like this?'

A slow smirk curled at the edge of her lips, but there was no amusement behind it. Only venom.

'You forget who you're dealing with.'

She would find him.

She would face him.

And when she did—she would make sure that he regretted every second of this ridiculous act of rebellion.

Because there was nowhere in this world he could run where she would not catch him.

****

<Monday Morning>

The sun had barely begun to rise, casting long, golden streaks across the Everwyn estate. The light seeped through the grand windows of Celia's room, illuminating the polished floors, the immaculate decor, the meticulously arranged vanity.

She sat before it, staring at her own reflection, her hands calmly, precisely applying a final coat of deep emerald polish to her nails.

There was no trace of the storm that had raged inside her the night before.

But it was there.

Beneath the surface.

Beneath the poised, elegant exterior.

Her movements were steady, her face unreadable, her posture perfect. Every inch of her radiated control. But in her mind—

The car moved smoothly along the road, the engine's low hum blending with the quiet of the early morning. Celia sat in the back seat, legs crossed, her fingers drumming lightly against her lap. The world outside blurred past her—a city that was already awake, streets filled with people who had no idea who truly ruled it.

She barely paid attention.

Her thoughts were elsewhere.

As the Everwyn family's driver guided the car toward the Elford estate, Celia's gaze flickered to her reflection in the window. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—sharp, piercing, glinting like cut emeralds—betrayed the storm brewing beneath her skin.

The Elford family was one of the most powerful in the country. Possibly the most powerful.

And their mansion reflected that power.

As they approached, the landscape shifted. The towering steel and glass of the city gave way to the private, heavily secured territory that housed the Elford estate. Acres upon acres of pristine land, manicured gardens that stretched beyond sight, roads so perfectly maintained they looked untouched.

And then—

The mansion itself.

A vast, imposing structure of stone and glass, its sheer size enough to silence most people. It wasn't just a home. It was a statement.

This is who we are. This is what we control.

The Everwyn estate was grand in its own right, but the Elford mansion was on an entirely different scale.

And yet—

Celia was not impressed.

She had seen it before, attended their lifeless gatherings, suffered through their insufferable galas. The weight of the Elford name meant nothing to her.

Not when she was Celia Everwyn.

The car slowed as it approached the mansion's outer gate, where a set of armed guards stood stationed. Their suits were crisp, their posture straight, their presence unwavering. These were not ordinary security personnel—these were men trained to protect the most powerful family in the country.

The driver rolled down his window, handing over identification as protocol required. Celia remained seated, waiting, expecting the usual process to unfold.

Then—

The first sign that something was wrong.

The guard glanced at the identification, his expression unreadable. He exchanged a look with the other guard beside him, before turning his gaze to the car.

"State your business."

Celia's brows lowered slightly, but she did not let her irritation show. This was unnecessary. They knew exactly who she was.

She lowered the tinted window just slightly, her voice smooth and undeniable.

"I am here to see Damien Elford."

The guards didn't move.

A second passed.

Then another.

The air shifted—just barely, but Celia felt it.

One of the guards exhaled, straightening slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Everwyn. But you do not have permission to enter."

Silence.

Celia's fingers curled against the leather seat.

"Excuse me?"

Her voice was still calm, but there was a bite beneath it now.

The second guard spoke this time, his tone as professional as before. "We have been given strict orders. You are not allowed inside the estate."

The words landed like a slap.

Not allowed?

Not. Allowed?

Celia's nails pressed into her palm, but her face remained poised, unreadable.

"This is a mistake," she said coolly. "I am Damien Elford's fiancée."*

A momentary pause.

Then—

"No, ma'am. You are not."

The words sent a rush of fury through her, her breath hitching before she could stop it.

Celia inhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain composed. This was not a battle she would fight with emotion.

"Then at the very least," she said, her voice colder now, "grant me an audience with Dominic Elford."

The guards exchanged another glance. This time, the hesitation was longer.

One of them raised a hand to the small earpiece he was wearing, listening to an unheard voice.

Seconds passed.

Celia watched them, waiting.

Then—

The guard lowered his hand, his posture firm.

"I'm sorry, Miss Everwyn. But that will not be possible."

For the first time since she arrived—

Celia's fingers twitched.

They were shutting her out completely.

Not just Damien.

Not just the pathetic, cowardly worm who had the audacity to block her.

But the entire Elford family.

She wasn't just being turned away.

She was being discarded.

Like nothing.

Like she was not even worth acknowledging.

A low, sharp breath.

Celia Everwyn was not nothing.

And she would never accept this.

Her grip tightened on her bag, her nails biting into the leather.

Fine.

If they wouldn't let her through this way—

She would find another way.