Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate - Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Number
They had shifted topics now, their lunch containers nearly empty, the conversation winding into something quieter—less confrontational.

Damien leaned back, about to respond—when he paused.

His gaze drifted to the far side of the window. A sudden shift in expression. That lazy smirk softened into something smaller, quieter. Real.

A smile.

Isabelle caught it immediately. Her brows knit slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, still staring out the window.

“You smiled.”

“I do that sometimes.”

She tilted her head, following his gaze—just rooftops and tree branches swaying in the wind. No students. No birds. Nothing unusual.

“…What did you see?”

“Something nice.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

Damien turned back to her with a faint grin. “Just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

Isabelle held his gaze for a moment longer, then huffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “here I am. Still invited to lunch.”

She opened her mouth to retort—then shut it.

Because she couldn’t deny that part.

******

Damien leaned back in his chair, one hand cradling his jaw, the other loosely drumming against the edge of his desk. The last traces of lunch still lingered on his tongue—warm spices, quiet comfort—but that wasn’t why he was smiling.

It was faint. Almost invisible. The kind of smile that didn’t need an audience.

‘Blonde hair… swaying just beyond the door…’

He wasn’t hallucinating. He knew what he’d seen.

Victoria.

Just a flicker of her in the breeze outside the building—far too subtle for most, but his eyes caught it. Her presence felt like tension pressed into silk. She must’ve passed by without knowing they were still in the classroom.

‘Isn’t it a bit quick, though?’

A small chuckle escaped his throat. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he was imagining how fast the unease in her heart would bloom. But either way… the seed was planted.

He shifted, stretching his arms slightly behind his head.

That was when the classroom door opened again.

Their physics teacher, a stiff, tired-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses and a notoriously poor sense of timing, stepped in with a stack of thin papers under one arm.

“Pop quiz,” he said flatly, like announcing the weather. “Fifteen minutes. Five questions.”

A collective groan rippled through the room.

Damien’s smile instantly vanished.

‘Tch… Just my luck.’

He reached for his pen, fingers closing around the familiar weight, and shook his head with a soft sigh.

‘After winning this bet, I really need to study a lot more.’

No more excuses. No more relying on instinct and last-minute recoveries.

He would hold himself to the standard he set.

******

The car of the Langley estate rolled silently down the tree-lined drive, its tinted windows shielding Victoria from the fading evening light. The ride home from Vermillion was always long enough to think—but tonight, her thoughts were spiraling.

Her cheek rested against her curled knuckles as she gazed out the window, barely noticing the world slipping past. The seats around her were empty. The air was cool. Silent.

“Why are you dozing off?”

Just then, the voice came from her phone.

“Ah…” she breathed, sitting up straighter, brushing her hair back as if he could see her through the call. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” Marek scoffed, his voice thick with amusement. “That’s dangerous. You planning world domination again?”

Victoria smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“Hah. Still sharp-tongued. You must be feeling better.”

There was a pause between them.

The silence of familiarity.

She considered it.

For just a moment, she considered telling him.

About Damien. About Isabelle. About the possibility that he knew everything.

But just as the thought found form, Marek spoke again.

“By the way,” his tone shifted—irritated now, sharper. “That bastard Damien bumped into me today. On purpose.”

Victoria blinked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Marek muttered. “Shoulder-checked me in the hallway like it was some prison yard. Didn’t even look at me. Just kept walking like I didn’t exist.”

He let out a dry laugh. “I wanted to put him through a locker right there. But that fucker—he’s an Elford. If I touch him now, it’s a problem. A real one.”

Victoria’s lips pressed together. She remained quiet.

“And guess what? Ezra and Kaine? Those idiots he used to hang around with?” Marek continued. “They’re all turning on him now. You should’ve heard them. ‘That arrogant freak’, ‘who does he think he is now’—blah blah. They’re done with him.”

Victoria stayed silent.

The threads tightened in her mind.

Marek’s voice was full of anger. Loathing. He wanted Damien gone. And yet… he had no idea the boy he hated had enough in his pocket to ruin both of them.

No.

She couldn’t tell him.

Not yet.

Marek’s temper was too short, his pride too fragile. If she told him that Damien might know about them, that he might have leverage—they’d be exposed in a heartbeat.

She couldn’t afford that.

Not now. Not with Damien still unpredictable. And not with Isabelle watching.

So she said nothing.

Instead, she leaned back into her seat and let her voice curl into something soft, something practiced.

“…Then maybe we should just let the others handle him,” she murmured. “If everyone’s turning on him, there’s no need to rush, right?”

Marek huffed. “Tch. I still want to flatten his smug face.”

She smiled faintly.

Marek was still venting, voice low and bitter on the other end of the call. “He walks like he owns the damn place now. Like all those years of being a joke never happened. As if we’re just supposed to forget who he was.”

Victoria let the silence stretch for a moment, then exhaled softly.

“Let the dogs bark, Marek,” she said, her voice honeyed but tired. “If everyone already wants a piece of him, we don’t need to get our hands dirty. Not yet.”

He was quiet for a beat.

Then, with a sudden shift in tone—smooth, teasing—he added, “You know, you sound even sexier when you talk like that.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against the window, hiding a small smile. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he replied, voice a little lower now. “God, I wish I could sneak into your room right now.”

“You’d get tackled by the estate hounds before you reached the garden wall,” she murmured, amused.

“Worth it.”

That made her laugh—soft, real—but it faded quickly as her thoughts slipped back to Damien’s voice, to the venom laced in his smile that morning. “How would they react if they knew you had a secret boyfriend?”

She blinked back the thought and shifted upright.

“I should go,” she said, voice carefully neutral. “We’re nearly home.”

“Alright,” Marek sighed. “But next time I see you, no dodging. I want you.”

“I know,” she said, and ended the call before he could say more.

The second the screen went black, her smile faded.

She sat still, the low hum of the car’s engine washing over her as her gaze drifted down to her phone again. Her fingers hovered for a moment—hesitant—before moving deliberately through her contacts.

Then, she opened a new message window and tapped out a short text.

Victoria:

Celia. Do you happen to have Damien Elford’s number?

The typing bubble didn’t appear right away. It took almost a full minute before the reply came in.

Celia:

Why?

Victoria paused. She could already feel the skepticism through the screen. But she didn’t flinch.

Victoria:

I’ve been thinking. I might have an angle. Something that could be useful.

Let’s just call it a long game.

There was another pause. Then—

Celia:

Hmph. If it’s part of something useful, fine.

Sending it now. Use it wisely.

A few seconds later, a new message arrived.

Celia:

8X-XXXX-XXXX — Damien Elford

Victoria stared at the number for a long moment. Her screen reflected dimly in her eyes, but her thoughts were already moving faster than her pulse.

A contact.

Victoria’s thumb hovered just above the screen, the contact saved now—plain and quiet against the dim backdrop of her phone.

Damien Elford.

A name she’d once barely acknowledged. A number she never bothered to ask for. Not because she couldn’t get it—but because, back then, she wasn’t supposed to.

Celia had made it clear.

He was hers to deal with.

Unspoken rules had long governed the balance of their circle. Everyone knew the invisible lines—where you could move freely, and where trespass meant war. And Damien? For the longest time, he had been under Celia’s shadow. Her project. Her embarrassment. Her failure.

None of them had stepped in.

Because none of them wanted to interfere.

But now?

Now those lines were broken. Shattered, really.

Celia no longer spoke of him with disdain. She didn’t speak of him much at all.

And that silence?

That told Victoria everything she needed to know.

She leaned back against her headboard, legs tucked beneath her, gaze still fixed on the numbers that now existed in her phone like a newly acquired weapon.

‘Should I really do it?’