Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 37: Family (3)

Vivienne exhaled softly, shaking her head as she turned her gaze back to Damien. There was no anger in her expression, only disappointment.

"You went too far," she said, her voice carrying the same gentle authority as before. "You should apologize to your sister."

Damien barely blinked.

"For what?"

His tone was even, unwavering.

"I came here to have a meal with my family," he continued, voice smooth but firm. "Not to sit here and listen to insults being thrown at me. I wasn't the one who started it."

Vivienne's lips pressed together, a faint crease forming between her brows. "I can see that," she admitted, "but that doesn't justify what you said. You had no reason to use such vulgar words. It is unbefitting of an Elford."

Damien chuckled under his breath. "Oh? And what about Adeline? Her words were fitting for an Elford?"

Vivienne sighed again but didn't immediately answer.

It was Dominic who spoke next.

"She's right."

Damien turned his head slightly, meeting his father's gaze.

Dominic's steel-gray eyes were cold, filled with silent disapproval. He hadn't spoken much throughout the exchange, but now that he did, his voice carried an undeniable weight.

"You were provoked, yes. But your response was excessive," Dominic said, his words clipped, measured. "Your behavior tonight has been disgraceful."

His gaze sharpened. "You will apologize."

Damien held his father's stare.

And then—

A slow smirk curled at his lips.

"I refuse."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier.

Damien watched his father's expression carefully, his smirk still lingering, but his mind was already dissecting every reaction.

'Ah. That irritated exhale. That sharp stare. That quiet tension in his jaw.'

Dominic Elford wasn't an impulsive man. He didn't lash out in anger, didn't shout, didn't waste energy on obvious displays of dominance.

No, his father's power had always been in control. Cold, precise, suffocating control.

And right now?

Damien had chipped at it.

'I wonder when the last time was that someone outright refused you, Father.'

Dominic's fingers drummed once against the table, slow, methodical. Then he leaned back in his chair, exhaling as if the conversation no longer interested him.

A practiced move.

A calculated retreat.

Damien almost laughed.

'You think ignoring me makes me lose? That acting disinterested puts you back in control?'

No.

Because this time, he was the one dictating the conversation.

His father had given an order.

And Damien had refused it.

And despite his attempts to act unaffected, despite the way he tried to bury his irritation beneath indifference—

Damien had won.

Not just against Adeline. Not just against his father.

But against the Damien Elford that once existed in this house.

The one who would have backed down. The one who would have flinched. The one who would have swallowed his pride and bent to their expectations.

'I am not that man anymore.'

A slow, satisfied breath filled his lungs, though his expression didn't change.

Vivienne was still looking at him, watching him, her own thoughts hidden behind those ever-gentle emerald eyes.

"I won't force him to apologize," she had said.

The words had landed like a declaration.

Dominic hadn't liked them. That much was obvious. But Damien had expected that.

The real question was—

Why did Mother do it?

It wasn't as if Vivienne enjoyed conflict. She never had. She was always the peacemaker, the gentle presence in the midst of all the family's cold ambition.

And yet—

She had taken his side.

Not outright. Not aggressively.

But enough.

'Is it love, Mother? Or is it pity?'

Did she still see him as the child who needed her protection? The weak, struggling son who couldn't defend himself against Dominic and Adeline?

If so, then she was wrong.

He didn't need protection.

Not anymore.

"...Very well," Dominic finally said, his voice smooth but clipped, his eyes settling on Damien once more.

Not with acknowledgment.

Damien settled into his seat, his movements unhurried, deliberate. The tension still lingered in the air like the fading echo of a battle, but he no longer paid it any mind.

The servants entered the room with practiced efficiency, their white-gloved hands carrying silver trays of food—exquisite, refined, prepared with the precision expected of the Elford household. Aromas of seared steak, rich sauces, and delicate side dishes filled the space as the meal was placed before them.

He picked up his utensils with ease, taking a moment to slice through the tender meat, noting how quiet the table had become now that Adeline had left. The absence of her presence was almost amusing—she had always been the loudest voice next to their father.

But just as Damien took his first bite, Dominic spoke.

"Your school semester starts next week, correct?"

A statement, not a question.

Damien swallowed his food leisurely before offering a small nod. "That would be correct."

Dominic took a sip of his wine, his expression unreadable. But the moment he placed the glass back onto the table, his next words were spoken with that same quiet authority.

"Your results so far have been disgraceful to this family. Make sure to correct your grades from now on."

Damien continued chewing, unaffected by the remark.

Ah. So that was the next thing on the agenda.

Of course, his father wouldn't ignore it.

The old Damien—the one from Shackles of Fate—had been a waste. Lazy. Indulgent. An entitled fool who had taken his family's wealth for granted. He had coasted through school, never once putting in effort, never caring about expectations, convinced that as the son of Dominic Elford, everything would simply fall into place.

He had let himself rot in mediocrity, drowning in vices—luxury, drugs, clubs, fleeting pleasures—to escape the emptiness of being the unwanted son.

And his father had despised him for it.

So when his grades had slipped, when he had proven time and time again that he was unworthy of the Elford name, Dominic had stopped seeing him as a successor.

Stopped acknowledging him entirely.

That was why, in Shackles of Fate, when his downfall came—when he was abandoned, humiliated, thrown aside—there had been no hesitation.

No resistance from Dominic.

Because in his father's eyes, he had been lost long before then.

But now?

Now, things were different.

Damien set his fork down and dabbed his lips with his napkin, his expression cool as he met his father's gaze.

"I see," he said simply.

Not defensive. Not whiny.

Just acknowledgment.

And yet, that response alone seemed to bother Dominic. His father's eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching for the usual excuses, the empty promises of improvement, the pitiful attempts to justify failure.

But there were none.

Just a quiet, unwavering acceptance.

Before Dominic could say more, Vivienne sighed and turned to her husband, her green eyes sharp with disapproval.

"Don't pressure him," she said, her voice firm but still carrying that soft, motherly concern. "He's already been through enough."

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Dominic exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression hardening. "This cannot go on," he said, his tone clipped, brokering no argument. He placed his wine glass down with quiet precision, his fingers steepling in front of him as his gaze bore into Damien.

"We've had this conversation before," he continued, his voice smooth but edged with lingering frustration. "Too many times, in fact. Do you even understand what is at stake? Or do you intend to waste another year in mediocrity?"

Damien remained silent, letting his father's words settle over the table like an oppressive weight.

It was a familiar script.

One that had played out countless times throughout his life.

The talk.

Where Dominic would sit across from him, the perfect image of control, listing off Damien's failures one by one. His lack of discipline. His squandered potential. The sheer embarrassment of being associated with someone who had the Elford name but none of the ambition that came with it.

Once, Damien had endured these conversations with clenched fists beneath the table, holding back frustration, knowing there was no use in fighting against it.

Now?

Now, he simply observed.

'Father, you're making a mistake,' he mused inwardly, watching as Dominic continued. 'You think this is the same as before. That I'm the same as before.'

But he wasn't.

And that would soon become clear.

Before Damien could speak, Vivienne let out another sigh, shaking her head.

"He will change," she said, her voice carrying a quiet insistence. "You're too harsh on him."

Dominic's eyes flickered toward her, his expression unreadable. "Am I?"

"Yes," she said simply, her gaze unwavering. "You act as though he is incapable of growth, but I know that's not true."

A brief silence.

Then Dominic leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose again.

"I've heard that before," he said, his tone unreadable. "I've been hearing it for years, Vivienne. And yet, nothing changes."

He turned his gaze back to Damien.

"This is not about coddling," he continued, his voice sharp. "You are my son. That alone means expectations. The Elford name is not something you can afford to drag through the mud."