Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 186: Utilizing advantages (3)

| 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?

Her breath caught.

The calm, casual cruelty of it made her blood run cold.

That wasn’t a joke.

It wasn’t a bluff.

It was a leash being tugged.

He was reminding her who held the thread.

And yet—that only made her angrier.

Because it was working.

Because he was right.

Her family couldn’t know. Celia couldn’t know.

Marek? Marek would explode the moment it got out. Her parents would crucify her. The balance she’d worked so hard to maintain—the power, the image, the prestige—it would all splinter.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

Then typed, slowly.

| Victoria [19:11]

| You think this is funny?

A beat passed.

| Damien [19:11]

| Hilarious.

He was enjoying this.

Of course he was.

And that—

That made her want to say no.

To burn everything just to spite him.

But she couldn’t afford that fire.

| Victoria [19:12]

| Fine.

| I’ll send you the notes.

Her fingers paused above the keyboard, the pressure behind her eyes simmering.

| Victoria [19:12]

| But you’re not to show them to anyone else.

| Is that clear? fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

She stared at the screen, every muscle in her face tight with fury. It wasn’t just the blackmail. It was the principle. Her notes were hers. They were crafted, curated, and controlled. Sending them to him was already humiliating enough—but the idea of anyone else laying eyes on them?

Unacceptable.

Damien’s reply came like a lazy breeze.

| Damien [19:13]

| Hm.

| And what if I do?

Her vision blurred for a split second. Something in her snapped.

She didn’t type.

She hit the call button.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then—

Click.

"...Oh?" came Damien’s voice, smooth and faintly amused. "Calling me now? I must really be special tonight."

"Don’t you dare," Victoria snapped, no preamble, no pleasantries. Her voice was taut with barely suppressed rage. "Don’t test me, Damien. I swear, if I see even one of my pages floating around this school—"

"You’ll what?" he asked, tone light, almost curious. "Take back the blackmail that keeps me fed?"

Her breath hitched. "You think this is funny. You really think this is funny."

"Oh, I know it is."

"Listen to me, you smug little—those notes are mine. They’re not favors. They’re not charity. And they’re definitely not your trading cards. If you want to use them, you use them for yourself. No one else. I won’t have idiots quoting my summaries like they’re gospel."

Damien was quiet for a second.

Then a small hum.

"...You’re really possessive over them," he said softly. "Kind of cute, honestly."

"Damien—"

"Relax." His voice dropped a notch, and the amusement, while still present, took on something slower. More deliberate. "Why would I share your notes?"

Damien’s voice remained calm, unhurried—velvet edged with steel.

"Why would I share your notes?" he repeated, slower this time. "Is there a reason? It’s not like that benefits me."

There was no mockery in his tone now. Just... fact. Matter-of-fact, maddening logic.

Victoria opened her mouth to retort—only to hesitate.

Because damn it—

He wasn’t wrong.

Why would he share them?

What would he even gain?

He clearly didn’t want attention. Didn’t want people crowding around him like they did Leon or Kaine. Hell, if anything, he seemed to avoid the spotlight unless it was useful. So spreading her notes, making a scene out of them—it didn’t align with his behavior at all.

So why had she—

’Ugh,’ she scowled internally. ’This guy... he’s messing with my head.’

As if reading her thoughts, Damien spoke again—so casual it was infuriating.

"You must be pretty flustered if that’s the first thing that comes to mind when you’re giving something," he said, light amusement curling around the words. "That’s a pretty unpleasant way to live, not gonna lie."

She narrowed her eyes at the phone, even though he couldn’t see her.

Then—his voice again.

"Do you have siblings or something? A little sister, maybe? Always taking your stuff? You seem like the type."

There was a beat. Then:

"Waaaah, Victoria’s notes again? Poor thing," he cooed with mock sympathy. "No wonder you’re this territorial. That’s kind of pitiful."

Victoria slammed her palm against the desk.

"You—!" she hissed, barely restraining herself. "You don’t know anything about my family!"

But the worst part?

The absolute worst part?

He was right.

Felicia.

The picture-perfect little angel with her doe-eyes and soft voice. Always borrowing things, always "accidentally" forgetting to return them, always smiling like innocence incarnate while she walked off with what was Victoria’s.

Dresses. Makeup. Compliments.

And now?

Now he had the audacity to guess that?

From this?

"How the hell—" she muttered, flustered, stunned, furious all at once.

"Hit a nerve?" Damien asked, oh so sweetly.

"I hate you," she spat.

"Mm," he replied. "You keep saying that."

And damn him—

He sounded so pleased.

Victoria scowled at the desk, fingers tightening around her phone as she hissed through her teeth.

"It’s not like that," she snapped. "You’re just making things up in your delusional little brain."

On the other end, Damien’s laughter came through—light, unhurried, maddeningly amused.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure," he drawled. "I totally made it up. Just took a wild guess and—wow—what do you know? Your reaction said everything I needed to hear."

"You were not right," she growled.

"Sure," he echoed, clearly smirking. "Not right. Of course."

"Bastard."

"You curse a lot," he said, almost teasingly.

"You’re the one to talk."

That earned a genuine laugh—low, warm, and a little too satisfied.

"Ahaha... yeah," Damien admitted, voice curling around the grin she could hear even if she couldn’t see it. "On the mark with that one. I fucking curse a lot."

Victoria rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt.

And yet...

For a single second—

She felt her anger curl into something else. Not quite ease. Not quite peace.

But familiarity.

And that made it worse.

Because how the hell was he still making her talk? Making her engage when all she wanted to do was shut him down?

The conversation had spiraled, and somehow she was still here—still on the line.

Still... giving him attention.

Dammit.

Damien’s voice curled through the speaker one last time, smug and perfectly unbearable.

"Well," he said with mock sincerity, "thanks for the call, Langley. It’s nice to hear your voice when it’s not shouting across a courtyard. So soft when you’re not busy pretending you hate me."

"You’re insufferable," Victoria snapped, her thumb already hovering over the screen.

"Mm. But at least I’m consistent."

Click.

She hung up.

The silence that followed felt like exhaling after a long-held breath.

She stared at her phone for a moment longer, jaw still slightly clenched... then let it go.

"Idiot," she muttered, tossing the device onto her bed and reaching for her tablet instead.

Her files were already organized—of course they were. Class by subject, week by week, each one cleanly scanned, high-res, and carefully annotated with color codes and cross-links. It was the work of someone who not only cared about studying—but excelled at it.

And now?

Now she was about to send it all to Damien Elford.

With a few sharp swipes, she selected the PDFs and dropped them into the message. Her fingers hesitated over the last command—just a second—before she hit send.

| Victoria [19:17] | Here. Everything. | Don’t lose them. And don’t ask again.

Send.

As the files transferred, she leaned back into her chair, staring at the screen with narrowed eyes.

Damien Elford.

Studying.

The thought almost made her laugh.

That guy? The one who slept through the first two weeks of lectures, who used to fail basic evaluations like they were written in a foreign language?

That guy was asking for her notes?

"What are you planning, you weirdo..." she murmured under her breath.

And then, without meaning to—

A smirk tugged at her lips.

"Pfft..."

She covered her mouth quickly, biting back the sound, but it was too late. She’d already laughed.

Damien Elford. Studying.

It was absurd.

Almost cute.

Almost.