Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 185: Utilizing advantages (2)

| Victoria [18:51]

| Why are you doing this?

She stared at the blinking cursor for a moment longer, then added—

| Victoria [18:51]

| If this is about Celia, then go deal with her.

| I have nothing to do with your grudge.

Sent.

| Damien [18:54]

| Doing what?

Her lips parted, a breath caught halfway in her throat.

Doing what?

Really?

She scowled and quickly typed again, irritation bubbling in her throat.

| Victoria [18:55]

| Will you really keep playing that?

There was a pause.

Then—

| Damien [18:56]

| I’m not playing.

| It’s just... I find it hard to understand what you’re talking about.

Victoria’s teeth clenched.

That was it.

That was enough.

She wasn’t going to dance around this with him forever. Not when he was clearly enjoying twisting the knife with that smug tone and selective amnesia.

Her thumbs moved sharply, each keystroke clipped like a slap.

| Victoria [18:56]

| Of course you don’t understand.

| Because it’d take actual intelligence to follow anything more subtle than your own reflection.

Sent.

There was no immediate reply.

For a moment, Victoria thought she might’ve finally stung him. That maybe—just maybe—she’d gotten under that smug, unreadable surface of his.

Then—

| Damien [18:58]

| Harsh.

| You wound me, Langley.

| I was just trying to understand the situation... but if you’re offering compliments wrapped in insults, I’ll take it.

Her eyes narrowed.

| Damien [18:58]

| After all, you’re still texting me.

| That’s got to mean something, right?

The gall of him.

Completely unfazed. Laid-back, like he was lounging on a couch somewhere instead of digging into her nerves with that maddening calm.

| Damien [18:59]

| Or wait—

| Are you trying to get my attention?

| Again?

Victoria gritted her teeth, the heat rising behind her eyes.

He was mocking her. Blatantly. Shamelessly.

| Damien [19:00]

| And, well—

| Since I’m this unintelligent...

| Who knows what I might say if I’m not careful.

| Some words might just slip.

| Accidents happen, right?

Victoria’s fingers froze mid-air.

| Damien [19:00]

| ...Unless someone helps me understand what’s really going on.

| Maybe I need to hear it clearly?

Her jaw clenched. The back of her throat tightened.

There it was.

Not even thinly veiled anymore.

A direct line—taunting and deliberate. He was pushing her. Daring her. Waiting for her to say it aloud, just to see how far she’d go before snapping.

He wanted to hear it from her lips.

Wanted her to be the one to break.

Her hand tightened around the phone, the edge of her nail digging into the skin of her palm.

Bastard.

Fine.

She would say it.

But not the way he wanted.

| Victoria [19:01]

| You saw us, didn’t you?

| Me and Marek.

The moment she hit send, she stared at the screen, heart pounding not with fear—but with rage. Rage at herself. At him. At the whole mess this had become.

Then—

| Damien [19:02]

| Heh.

| Finally ready to admit it?

Victoria’s breath caught.

| Damien [19:02]

| Took you long enough.

She didn’t reply.

Not yet.

Because now—she wasn’t sure what came next.

| Damien [19:03]

| So you kept it bottled up all this time...

| Just so you could talk to me again?

| Wow.

| I didn’t know you were that desperate for my attention.

Victoria nearly threw her phone across the room.

| Victoria [19:03]

| Who the hell wants to talk to you?!

| Don’t flatter yourself, you insufferable bastard!

She didn’t even bother with punctuation on the last one. Her pride was spitting fire through every keypress.

The reply came instantly.

| Damien [19:04]

| Aww.

| That’s a lot of passion for someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.

| Are you a tsundere?

Victoria’s vision went red.

| Victoria [19:04]

| GO TO HELL.

| Damien [19:04]

| .....

She growled—actually growled—throwing her pillow at the headboard, the soft whump doing nothing to satisfy the urge to slap that smug smirk off his face.

He was impossible.

Infuriating.

And worst of all?

He had her dancing to his tempo.

Her fingers hovered over the screen again, but this time—she didn’t type. Not immediately.

Because somewhere in that fire... was the sharp flicker of realization.

He hadn’t threatened her.

He hadn’t exposed her.

He just toyed.

Which meant, maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t after destruction.

But that didn’t make him safe.

Victoria stared at the screen.

It buzzed again.

| Damien [19:05]

| ...

The pause taunted her, like he was leaning back in his chair with that maddening smirk, waiting for her next outburst.

But instead of screaming, she exhaled sharply and typed, trying to leash her fury with clarity.

| Victoria [19:05]

| Why are you doing this?

| For what actual reason?

There was a pause. Then the reply came, almost too quickly.

| Damien [19:06]

| For fun.

She blinked.

| Victoria [19:06]

| ...Fun?

| Damien [19:06]

| Yep.

| Victoria [19:06]

| So that’s it? You’re tormenting me because you’re bored?

| Damien [19:07]

| More or less.

| It’s entertaining watching you try to stay calm.

| You twitch when you’re mad. It’s cute.

She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw popped.

What the hell was this?

Was he really playing her like this—for amusement?

No. No, it couldn’t be that simple. He wasn’t aimless. That wasn’t the kind of game he played. There was always a second blade under the table. Always.

And then—

| Damien [19:08]

| Ah, actually—

| That reminds me.

Her stomach tightened.

What now?

| Damien [19:08]

| You’re a good student, right?

| I’ve heard your notes are top tier.

| Perfectly structured. Color-coded. Practically divine.

She stared at the screen, dreading the next line before it arrived.

| Damien [19:09]

| I want all of them.

| Every class. Every subject.

| Sent to me today.

Her mouth parted slightly. In disbelief. Rage. Something between the two.

He—

He was asking for her notes?

Victoria’s hands curled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms as she stared at the message. Her phone sat in her lap like a snake coiled and ready to strike.

He wanted her notes?

Her notes.

That was the one thing she held sacred.

She didn’t flaunt them, didn’t hand them out like favors or tokens to the highest bidder. Even Celia only occasionally asked to glance through them—and when she did, it was framed as an honor, not a right.

Victoria’s notes weren’t just summaries. They were the product of ruthless discipline. Everything about them was precise—color-coded tags, cross-referenced outlines, tabbed annotations. She recorded audio from every class, converted it to typed transcripts, and then distilled it into clean, review-ready study sheets.

She built entire systems around comprehension and recall. Efficiency.

Her notes were the reason she was top five in the school.

And now he—the same Damien Elford who used to nap through history, doodle in magical theory, and breeze past any actual effort—he wanted those?

The audacity.

The gall.

The unmitigated arrogance of it.

She could practically see him. Reclined on his bed. Half-smiling at the screen. Typing these demands with one hand while sipping water with the other.

A flash of memory hit her—of him asleep near the window during morning lectures, his hair messy, his notebooks untouched.

He was smart, sure—but effortless. Lazy. Undeserving.

And now he had the nerve to—

Her phone buzzed again.

| Damien [19:10]

| If you don’t want to... that’s fine.

| I can’t guarantee what might slip from my mouth, though.

| We wouldn’t want your family to hear about... certain things, would we?