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

Vivienne sat back, arms now crossed, brows drawn in, the corner of her mouth tugged down in a faint, uncharacteristic pout.

She didn't speak for a moment. Just narrowed her eyes at the space between the two men, as if trying to decide which of them she was more annoyed at.

"You both kept this from me," she muttered. "You planned this—this ridiculous wager—and thought I didn't deserve to know?"

Damien offered a faint smile, quiet but warm.

"It was my decision," he said gently. "I didn't want you to worry."

Vivienne's gaze flicked toward him, sharp and wounded. "And that's supposed to make it better?"

"No," he admitted. "But it's the truth."

She didn't respond. Her fingers tapped once against her arm. Then again. A quiet, slow rhythm of restrained emotion. Finally, her voice returned, soft but pointed:

"But why did you make such a bet, Damien? Why now? For what reason?"

Damien didn't answer immediately. His smile lingered—but it changed.

Grew sharper. Quieter. And then he turned his head.

Toward Dominic.

The message was clear.

Dominic exhaled like a man settling a scale that had long been off-balance. He leaned forward slightly, voice even.

"Cradle of the Primordials," he said. "That was the price."

Vivienne blinked. "What?"

"In exchange for winning the bet," Dominic continued, "I agreed to grant Damien access to the [Cradle of the Primordials]."

Silence.

Then—

Vivienne stood. So suddenly the hem of her dress snapped against her ankles.

"Are you crazy?"

Her voice echoed through the room—not shrill, not uncontrolled, but full of fury and disbelief. The kind of fury that didn't break things—it broke people.

"You let him gamble his life for that?" Vivienne hissed.

Dominic didn't flinch. His eyes remained steady, his voice level.

"I thought the same," he said. "At the start."

Vivienne's jaw tightened.

"That's why I agreed," Dominic continued. "Because I thought it was impossible."

He leaned back, his expression unreadable—but his words cut like steel drawn slow.

"I believed he was being impulsive. Delusional. Chasing some romanticized notion of effort and reward. I assumed—brutally, yes—that he'd seen one too many viral posts. Some 'transform your life in thirty days' nonsense meant to sell supplements or clicks. And I thought, Fine. Let him try. Let him fail. Let him see the consequences."

Vivienne's brows knit together, the fury in her gaze beginning to burn cold. "So you humored him."

"I gave him a wall he couldn't climb," Dominic said. "Because I believed that by the end of the month, he would see it for what it was—a fantasy. That he'd come back bruised but intact, maybe even humbled. That he'd realize the world doesn't bend for desperation, and he'd finally gather himself together."

He paused.

"But… well."

His hand turned over in a simple gesture. As if Damien, sitting tall and silent before them, was the undeniable answer to an equation no one had expected to solve.

Vivienne turned, slowly, to her son.

And for a moment, her expression was unreadable. Something between awe and dread.

Then she spoke—firm. Final.

"I won't allow it."

Damien's gaze flicked up. "What?"

"You heard me." Her jaw was clenched, voice trembling beneath the weight of restraint. "I don't care how much you've changed. I don't care how far you've come. I will not allow you to step into that death trap."

Damien sighed. Long. Low.

Then—he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Mother," he said, voice low and cold. "Do you really think I'd make a decision like this without thinking it through?"

She flinched—but held her ground. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter—"

"I don't care." Her voice cracked, eyes burning now. "I am your mother. And I am not going to watch you throw your life away just because you think this will prove something."

Damien's jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in resolve. In something deeper. Something forged in isolation, in pain, in the quiet defiance of becoming more.

He turned to his father.

Dominic nodded once.

"This room is sealed," he said. "Soundproofed. Layered with eight formation barriers. No one hears what happens here."

Damien's gaze returned to Vivienne.

And this time, he stood.

"Then tell me, Mother," he said, slowly. "How do you think I managed to lose this much weight in just one month?"

Vivienne's expression shifted.

The weight of his words struck like ice through her spine.

"What are you talking about—"

But he was already moving.

Toward the scale.

It stood in the corner of the room, precisely arranged, already calibrated—Dominic had made sure of that. The servants had prepared it earlier that day. It was time.

Damien stepped onto it, exhaling quietly.

The screen flickered to life.

91.7 kg

Clothed. No tricks. No posturing.

Still far below the 95 kilograms required.

The number glowed in quiet triumph.

And all Vivienne could do was stare.

Her breath hitched once.

Even Dominic's usually impenetrable expression cracked.

Not much—just the faintest crease in his brow, a shallow draw of breath—but for a man like him, that was the equivalent of stunned silence.

He hadn't expected this.

Not numbers like these. Not clothed. Not clean.

Damien stood tall on the scale, arms relaxed at his sides, chest bare beneath his buttonless overshirt, sweat still clinging to his skin from the final morning training run. No tricks. No dehydration tactics. No carefully timed weigh-in ritual.

91.7 kg.

It was undeniable.

Vivienne's lips parted as if to speak—but no words came.

Only silence.

Dominic, to his credit, recovered first, hands folding behind his back. But even he didn't interrupt when Damien stepped down from the scale with quiet precision.

He turned to them both.

His parents.

The Elford powerhouses. The rulers of two halves of his world.

And now—he stood in front of them, not as a shadow, not as an afterthought, but as something new.

Something becoming.

"I've already talked to Father about this," Damien said, voice steady, no bravado in it—only weight, "but Mother…"

He turned his gaze to her fully now, and for the first time, she saw him without the blur of disappointment and bias.

He wasn't just thinner.

He was sharper.

Cleaner.

Awake.

"There's a reason I've been able to do this," he continued. "Why I was able to train like I have, cut this much weight, and keep going without breaking down."

Vivienne's green eyes narrowed slightly, confusion mingling with something warier. "What are you implying?"

Damien didn't blink.

"Partial-Awakening."

The words hit like a dropped blade on marble.

Vivienne stilled.

Dominic, even now, tensed slightly at her side.

Damien pressed on. "My body started responding to stimuli far beyond what a normal, non-Awakened human should be capable of. Neural output, cellular regeneration, biochemical optimization—everything has been accelerating. Faster than it should. Cleaner than it should."

He took a step forward.

"This isn't the result of some starvation tactic or a quick-fix alchemy routine. It's a bloodline reaction. One that started weeks ago, and hasn't stopped since."

Damien's gaze didn't falter.

"That's why," he said, quieter now—but not weaker. "That's why I know I can take the Cradle."

His eyes stayed locked with hers.

"And that's why you wanted to hide it."

Vivienne didn't answer at first.

But something in her face shifted.

A slow breath. A flicker of pain behind her eyes. The kind that came from recognition, not confusion.

After a moment, her voice returned, low and laced with reluctant truth.

"Partial-Awakening…" she murmured. "It's rare. Dangerous. And… an advantage."

She lifted her gaze to meet Damien's fully, her expression harder now—but not cold. Just scared.

"You're right. Those who've survived the Cradle—what few have—almost all of them shared that trait. Their bodies were already changing before they entered. The process didn't destroy them because it was already starting."

She paused.

"Which is exactly why it has to be hidden."

Her voice sharpened—just slightly.

"Because if the wrong people find out, Damien—if they realize what's happening in your body before it stabilizes…."

Damien said nothing.

Because he already knew.