Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 189: Exam

The week passed in a blur of ink, breath, and friction—not the carnal kind, though it wasn't for lack of temptation.

Damien sat at the villa's study table, elbows propped lazily, head tilted just enough to catch the early morning light that spilled in through the tinted windows. A week ago, textbooks had been foreign bricks. Now, the pages bore the creases of his thumb, margins scrawled with notes in sharp, angular script.

He wasn't perfect. Not even close. But he had clawed his way out of the abyss of ignorance, bit by bit. Maths, magical backgrounds, family history—he hadn't just skimmed; he had absorbed. The kind of progress that didn't look impressive on a report card, but would show when someone tried to talk down to him.

And the system had noticed.

[Hidden Quest: Study Consistently for 7 Days]

Achieved.

Reward: +75 SP | +1 Mental Fortitude Node

Not a flashy reward. But solid. Useful. And earned.

Elysia, for her part, was a shadow wrapped in silence. She moved like a storm in hiding—precise, measured, always present just out of reach. Ever since his warning—don't provoke what you're not ready to handle—she had pulled back.

But he felt her eyes. Felt her tension.

Especially at night.

He'd catch her standing just a little too long outside his door. Hear the extra shift in her footsteps as she passed by his room for the third time. The subtle bite in her voice when she asked, "Will you be needing anything else tonight, Master Damien?"

No warmth in it. No flirtation. Just restraint drawn so tight it could snap like a taut wire.

And yet, she obeyed.

That was the real test—not dominance through force, but the discipline to wait. To let her want him without caving to it.

By Friday morning, the house was saturated in a kind of electricity. Every room felt like it held its breath. Elysia had barely spoken that day, save for a clipped, "Your breakfast is ready," before retreating without another word. She was watching herself. Measuring her steps.

Damien leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, letting a low exhale trail out of him.

"She's really holding out," he muttered, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. "Good girl."

The villa was quiet.

******

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Elford estate's eastern dining hall, casting long, golden streaks across the white marble floors. The table was set simply by Elford standards—no guests, no staff hovering in attendance, just two porcelain cups, a carafe of black coffee, and a modest breakfast spread laid between them.

Dominic Elford sat at the head of the table, as always, his crisp white shirt buttoned to the collar, sleeves immaculately pressed. He stirred his coffee with practiced precision, watching the swirl settle into darkness. Across from him, Vivienne sipped delicately from her own cup, a silk robe draped over her shoulders, hair pinned up with effortless elegance. freēnovelkiss.com

They hadn't spoken yet this morning, but there was no tension.

Only thought.

Reflection.

"It's been a week," Vivienne finally said, setting her cup down with a soft clink. "Since that conversation."

Dominic gave a slow nod, eyes still fixed on the steam curling from his drink. "Mm."

"He's changed," she continued, gaze steady but distant. "And not just physically. The way he carries himself, the things he doesn't say... It's different."

"Yes," Dominic said. "The weight is gone, but the arrogance hasn't replaced it. That's rare."

Vivienne's lips curved faintly. "You were half-expecting him to swing in the other direction."

"I've seen it happen before. When someone clawing from the bottom finally stands upright, they often mistake height for dominance. But Damien…" Dominic paused, lifting his cup. "He's learning to walk without swagger. That's a better sign than any weight loss or duel won."

Vivienne leaned back, folding one leg over the other. "Still… the [Cradle of the Primordials] isn't something that can be approached with momentum alone."

"No," Dominic agreed. "And he knows it. That's why he hasn't rushed."

They both went quiet for a moment, the only sound the gentle tapping of silverware against china as Vivienne reached for a piece of buttered toast.

"He's still late," she murmured.

Dominic glanced at her.

"Late?"

"In awakening. In cultivation. Compared to his peers," she clarified. "Most highborn children are already solidifying their first cores, starting to align with attributes, even forming early combat styles. Damien…" She trailed off, not in criticism, but in concern.

Dominic took a sip of his coffee before replying.

"Yes. He is behind. But that gap might serve him."

Vivienne's brow arched faintly. "How so?"

"Because he knows it," Dominic said simply. "And more importantly—he resents it. That hunger to catch up… if tempered, refined… it can make him sharper than those who never had to struggle."

Vivienne looked at her husband for a long moment.

"And the Cradle?"

He exhaled, setting his cup down.

"It's still dangerous. It will always be dangerous. The sheer volatility of it… the fact that it forges the core directly from origin essence instead of guided elemental filtering—it's a gamble."

"But a gamble with high return," Vivienne said.

"If he survives."

Silence fell again.

Then Dominic leaned back in his chair slightly, voice quieter now. "He's preparing. Training. Researching. Building his foundation before stepping into something most wouldn't dare approach without elite tutelage and spiritual guardians."

Vivienne smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"He's doing everything right, for once," she said softly. "And still, I feel unease."

"That's natural," Dominic said. "He's still our son."

She looked out the window, to the estate's far-off garden where the camellias had begun to wither—the bloom Damien once plucked so casually.

"And when the time comes?" she asked. "When he says he's ready?"

Dominic met her eyes.

"Then we let him go," he said. "And pray he doesn't return as someone we no longer recognize."

Vivienne's smile faded.

Not abruptly—but slowly, like a flickering flame snuffed by an unseen breeze.

She reached again for her cup, but her fingers paused at the porcelain rim, her emerald eyes lingering on Dominic.

"'Someone we no longer recognize,'" she repeated quietly, echoing his words.

Dominic raised an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation.

"That already feels like who he is now," she admitted. "The way he talks. Moves. That sharpness in his voice, the way he looks at people…"

She trailed off, the thought hanging between them like an unwelcome truth.

"…It's like watching a son you never knew grow up inside the shell of the one you did."

Dominic didn't answer immediately. Instead, he picked up his tablet from the corner of the table, swiping through his morning messages. His eyes skimmed past line after line of status reports, financial statements, and logistical briefings—until one notification paused his thumb.

[Vermillion Academy – Administrative Bulletin: Monthly Examination Begins Today – 09:00]

He blinked once.

Then looked up.

"Today," he said aloud. "It's the monthly exam for the academy."

Vivienne tilted her head slightly. "Already?"

Dominic exhaled, setting the device down beside his plate. His expression turned pensive.

"I had forgotten. It's been… a long time since I had a reason to care about those."

Vivienne's gaze sharpened. "You mean Damien's exams."

He gave a short nod, glancing toward the window now. The sunlight had climbed slightly higher, casting sharper lines along the table.

"He was always at the bottom," Dominic said flatly. "Failing grades. Missed submissions. Skipped lectures."

Vivienne hummed softly. "I remember when his homeroom instructor called, concerned he didn't know the difference between a foundational technique and an attribute resonance."

"He didn't," Dominic replied. "He didn't care. Back then, it was all distractions. Games, gossip, rebellion. Anything but responsibility."

Vivienne's brows drew together slightly, the edge of her composure softening into something sharper.

"He didn't care," she echoed, setting her cup down a little harder than intended. "Or maybe he couldn't, because you pressed him too hard. Always comparing him to Adeline, always raising the bar higher when he couldn't even find where it started."

Dominic turned his head toward her, the lines at the corners of his mouth tightening. "I pressed him because no one else would. Because you were too busy coddling him with excuses and warm smiles, pretending that avoidance was protection."

Vivienne's voice cooled, but the warmth in her eyes had vanished. "You think I coddled him?"

"I know you did," Dominic said plainly. "You softened every blow, let him collapse into the illusion that there was no consequence to stagnation."

"And you carved that illusion into him by breaking him down before he ever stood a chance," she snapped back, no longer hiding the edge in her tone. "You told him what he wasn't, day after day. Never what he could be."

They sat in silence for a moment. Not out of surrender, but because they both knew this ground had been tread too many times already.

Eventually, Dominic sighed, picking up his cup again, his voice settling into something cooler. Resigned.

"…It doesn't matter now."

Vivienne glanced at him, but he wasn't looking her way anymore.

"A change is a change," Dominic continued. "I don't know what sparked it. I don't know how long it'll last. But I'm not going to rewrite the past just because he finally started standing."

Vivienne didn't reply. Her fingers rested gently atop her napkin, unmoving.

"I don't wish for too much," Dominic added. "That would be foolish. Expecting academic brilliance from him now… it's unreasonable."

"Indeed."

Yet, little did they know about results…