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

Chapter 279: Board

DING!

A crisp chime echoed in Damien’s mind, overlaying his thoughts with a familiar, low-toned prompt.

—

[New Quest Complete]

Title: Irritating Perfection

Target: Victoria Langley

Objective: Subtly provoke, unnerve, or undermine Victoria Langley across three separate instances.

Progress: 3/3

Result: Success.

Visible Emotional Disruptions Logged: ✔✔✔

Public Reaction Bonus: Achieved

—

Rewards Unlocked:

+200 SP

+1 Mystery Reward

—

Damien raised an eyebrow, barely breaking stride as the details scrolled neatly across his vision.

‘Well, would you look at that.’

He’d only meant to toy with her—poke the edge, twist the knife just a little—but apparently the system found it impressive enough to throw a party over it.

Then the next prompt faded in, smoother, slower, wrapped in that faint glow that always meant something extra.

—

[Mystery Reward Unlocked]

Trait Enhancement: [Neural Predator] – Updated.

• Passive Scan Speed: Increased

• Activation Condition: Relaxed (no longer requires combat tension)

• New Capability Unlocked: Identification of Special Zones on non-hostile targets

—

Damien’s step paused—just for a fraction of a second.

Then resumed.

His smile, previously mild, curved a little sharper.

‘Special zones, huh?’

He flicked a thought across the system.

Define: Special zones.

The reply came back instantly, clinical as always.

[Special Zones (Subtype: Erogenous Zones) refer to biologically heightened sensitivity areas capable of eliciting intensified physiological or emotional reactions when stimulated.]

‘But, I was already able to identify them, in any case?’

[You are correct host, however this time…They are detected via neural micro-responses and surface tension analysis. Now differentiated from Combat Weak Points.]

The system’s clean, ever-neutral voice continued its explanation in the back of Damien’s mind as he moved toward his desk, the soft rustle of uniform fabric and faint tap of footsteps behind him mostly drowned out.

A new clarity lined the edge of his trait’s enhancement—something more refined than brute instinct.

[Neural Predator will now distinctly categorize two types of zones:

→ Combat Weak Points: Areas of strategic vulnerability.

→ Erogenous Zones: Areas of heightened physiological sensitivity.]

[Each category now possesses an independent scan layer and detection algorithm.]

[Refinement of both will improve with experience over time.]

Damien settled into his seat, his grin curling like a blade left in the sun.

‘Experience, huh?’

He flicked the thought forward, lazy, dry.

‘Each act, you said?’

[Each act contributes experience toward refining detection sensitivity within its corresponding category.]

[Combat Weak Points improve through sparring, battle, or observation under stress.]

[Erogenous Zones improve through close proximity, contact, and… escalation.]

A pause.

Then—

[Host knows what is meant.]

Damien let out a quiet exhale, the corner of his lip ticking upward as his gaze drifted idly to the front of the classroom.

‘I sure do.’

The chalk hadn’t even touched the board yet, and already this lesson was turning out to be far more educational than anything scheduled today.

******

The chalk-light symbols on the enchanted board slid effortlessly from one equation to the next—transformations, ,some convergence proofs.

To most of the class, it was a slow mental grind.

But not for Damien.

He sat at the back, body relaxed, chin resting against his palm as the lecturer continued scribbling across the animated board. The flow of numbers didn’t blur this time. No noise. No lag. Just clean understanding slotting into place the moment each symbol formed.

‘It really is interesting when you know what the symbols mean, isn’t it?’ he mused, watching a logarithmic identity resolve into a curve shift across the projection.

Every loop of notation felt like a solved puzzle now—once cryptic, now transparent.

The instructor moved to a new example, speaking calmly, “Now, for the next proof, we’re integrating a parametric boundary around a rotational surface—”

Damien’s mind was already ahead of it.

He knew what was coming.

He could almost see the shape of the answer forming before the chalk even hit the enchanted board.

The way everything in his life had sharpened recently—his body under pressure, his reflexes through combat, his thoughts during lectures—it was all folding together now.

‘Not bad.’

Damien shifted his gaze sideways, casual, almost lazy in the way his eyes slid across the rows—until they landed on a familiar figure.

Leon Ardent.

Sitting three desks ahead, posture straight, face calm, eyes focused on the board like he was born to interpret mathematical scripture.

No twitch. No fidget. Just a quiet, collected presence.

But Damien saw the tension anyway.

It wasn’t in his hands or his shoulders—it was in the stillness. The too-controlled stillness. The kind that said I’m holding back something, and you’re not worth letting it out for.

‘This guy’s getting humble now, eh…’ Damien thought, his lips curving just faintly. ‘Or maybe just biding time.’

He hadn’t forgotten the heat behind Leon’s eyes during that last P.E. encounter. That pressure just shy of flaring. But now?

Now Leon looked… tempered.

Not defanged. Just reined in.

As if he’d chosen patience over pride for once.

And Celia?

Damien didn’t look her way yet, but he could feel it—the quiet hostility still simmering whenever he was within a few meters. A colder burn. Less personal, maybe. But present.

‘So much for the righteous duo,’ he mused. ‘I expected fireworks. Got smoke.’

Damien’s gaze didn’t drift to Celia.

Not yet.

But he could feel her.

The way one feels a blade in the room—not by sound or sight, but by instinct. Tension carried in presence alone.

She sat near the center of the class, posture perfect, eyes fixed on the projection. Blue hair tied back in a sleek twist, a few strands framing her face as if sculpted for composure. Not a muscle twitched. Not a glance strayed.

And that—more than anything—made him suspicious.

‘There’s no way you’re just letting it go.’

Not after what he’d said to her. Not after the public shaming. The collapse of their engagement terms. The cracks he’d deliberately carved into her reputation—clean, deep, strategic.

He’d aimed for the pride, not the face. The legacy, not the status.

And Celia Everwyn was not the kind of woman who forgot that kind of wound.

So why was she sitting there, calm as snowfall?

‘Is it because you don’t want to… or because you can’t?’

His fingers tapped the side of his desk once, absent. Thoughtful. Not because he was worried—but because the silence itself was… too clean.

He’d expected her to come back with something. A public maneuver, a clever deflection. A counterstrike that would restore the Everwyn image and cost him leverage in the social field.

But nothing came.

Just stillness. Silence. Grace.

Which was the most unnatural thing of all.

‘After all….you are not mature enough to view the gains and losses.’

Damien didn’t believe someone could change in heart in short time….

‘Well, mine is a bit different, since I am a different guy, aren’t I?’

That is why, to Damien the fact that Celia was staying silent meant….

‘You’re busy then, Celia?’ he wondered, letting his gaze flick—just once, quick as a whisper—toward her seated figure.

The light caught the edge of her expression. Not a smile. Not a frown. Just… restraint.

‘Not retaliating doesn’t mean you’ve given up. It just means you’re planning something bigger. Or you’re already bleeding.’

The latter possibility drew a small hum in his throat.

He’d always known severing the engagement would ripple into the Everwyn business. Contracts, shares, alliance optics—wealth wrapped around marriage, tied into legacy holdings. And without the Elford name bolstering her side?

It would hurt.

‘That was the point,’ he thought.

‘I am going to swallow your business after all.’

Still…

He’d expected her to bite back.

Schemes, plots, whispered sabotage.

‘So where is it?’

The silence only made the game more interesting.

Because if Celia Everwyn wasn’t retaliating—then either she was waiting for the perfect moment…

…or she no longer had the board to play.

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