Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 41: On another side

Celia smirked.

The memory of the slap was still fresh, still vivid. The way his head had snapped to the side, the way the air had cracked with the force of her palm against his cheek. The stunned silence that followed. The raw, unfiltered shame in his eyes.

'Good.'

That was exactly where he belonged. Beneath.

Her fingers brushed against her cheek absentmindedly as she leaned back in her chair. The sensation of striking him had been… satisfying. A reminder, perhaps, that despite all his pathetic indulgences, all his worthless attempts at playing the part of a man, she owned him.

'Maybe I should do this more often.'

After all, a single slap had done what words never could. It had put him in his place. It had silenced that weak little voice of his, crushed whatever misplaced confidence he had left.

And the best part? No one would question it.

No one would dare look at Celia Everwyn and think she was in the wrong. If anything, they would whisper among themselves—

"Did you see that?"

"Serves him right."

"Honestly, I respect her more for it."

She smiled.

'Yes… perhaps this is how it should always be.'

Her fingers reached for her phone, unlocking it with a lazy swipe. The screen lit up immediately, the familiar glow of Stargram filling her vision.

And, of course—her feed was flooded.

Messages, notifications, tagged posts.

A dozen different social circles vying for her attention. Invitations, gossip, desperate attempts to align themselves with her. As always.

She let out a soft hum, scrolling through the messages with idle amusement.

'Should I entertain myself today?'

Celia's eyes lazily skimmed through the sea of notifications, barely paying attention to most of them. Stargram was always like this—an endless flood of messages, people trying to weasel their way into her world, men vying for a moment of her attention.

But tonight?

Tonight, she was in the mood to indulge.

Her finger hovered over her DMs, tapping open the messages. Immediately, the screen filled with unread texts, names and profile pictures stacked one after another. Some were expected—social climbers, dull aristocrats, men who thought wealth alone made them desirable.

But a few?

A few were interesting.

Her gaze flickered over certain profiles, ones that fit her taste. Sharp jawlines, lean muscle, just the right amount of confidence in their pictures. She knew better than to trust images alone—filters, angles, perfect lighting all played their tricks—but still. The real test was in their words.

Her nails tapped idly against the screen as she scrolled. Most were the usual drivel.

"Celia, you looked stunning at the gala last week."

"If you ever need company, I'd drop everything for you."

"You deserve better than your fiancé, you know."

Pathetic.

She nearly closed out of the app entirely when one particular message caught her eye.

A short one. Simple. But—

Funny.

@NeroV: "If you're reading this, I've already won."

Celia blinked.

Then smirked.

'Oh? Confident, are we?'

Her finger hovered over his profile, tapping it open.

The pictures were promising—broad shoulders, toned build, a face that was undeniably handsome but not overly polished. The kind of man who probably looked better in motion than in still photos. There was something sharp in his gaze, a cocky edge that made it clear he knew he was attractive.

'Of course, that doesn't mean he is interesting.'

Most men tried too hard, thinking arrogance alone was enough to catch her attention. She usually found them tedious.

But…

Her eyes flicked back to his message.

That, at least, had been amusing.

And now? Now, she had an excuse.

Damien had done as he pleased, hadn't he? She could do the same. No one would say a word. No one would dare.

"Yeah…"

Her fingers wandered across the keyboard, typing out a reply. Nothing too eager, nothing too predictable. Just a little bite, just enough to see what he'd do with it.

@CeliaE: "Big words."

The reply came instantly.

@NeroV: "See."

Celia actually laughed. A short, amused sound as she tilted her head back slightly.

'Not bad.'

Quick wit. Confidence without desperation. Most men in her DMs would stumble, overthink, try too hard to impress her. But this one? He was smooth. Effortless.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

@CeliaE: "Fast. I like that."

@NeroV: "You haven't seen anything yet."

A smirk tugged at her lips. He was pushing, testing. She enjoyed that. A little back-and-forth, a little challenge—far more interesting than the usual simpering.

@CeliaE: "Is that so? Prove it."

A pause. Just long enough for anticipation to settle in. Then—

A new message. An image attachment.

Celia raised an eyebrow before tapping it open.

The picture loaded, and—

Oh.

Not bad at all.

A lean body, muscles toned but not excessive. Strong shoulders, defined abs, a natural, effortless physique—one that wasn't built just for show but for function. There was confidence in the way he stood, in the way he took the picture—not desperate, not overeager. Just a man who knew he looked good.

And she had to admit…

He did.

Her fingers lingered over the screen as she imagined it. The feeling of firm muscles beneath her touch. The way strength like that would feel under her fingertips.

'Tempting.'

For a brief moment, she considered sending something back. Not anything reckless, of course—nothing that could ever be used against her. But something playful. A tease.

But no.

She had an image to protect.

Instead, she let her mind wander, just for a moment, indulging in the thought. How nice it would be…

Her fingers moved again, crafting the perfect response.

@CeliaE: "Decent. I've seen better."

A lie.

But she wanted to see how he'd react. Would he falter? Would he push back?

The reply came immediately.

@NeroV: "Is that so? And here I thought you liked what you saw. ;)"

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

Celia chuckled, shaking her head.

'Cocky bastard.'

@CeliaE: "I suppose confidence is attractive."

@NeroV: "I knew you'd come around."

Celia smirked, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she leaned back in her chair. He wasn't backing down. Good. She hated men who folded too easily.

@CeliaE: "Oh? Who said I have?"

@NeroV: "You're still here, aren't you?"

Celia huffed a quiet laugh, biting down on her lower lip to suppress the amusement bubbling up. He was playing the game well, and she had to admit—it was entertaining.

@CeliaE: "I could leave at any moment."

@NeroV: "And yet, you don't."

The audacity.

She enjoyed it.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, carefully crafting her next move. It was always about control, about keeping the upper hand, even in something as trivial as this.

@CeliaE: "Perhaps I'm just curious to see how long you'll amuse me."

@NeroV: "Oh, I intend to."

Another image.

Celia's eyebrow arched as she tapped it open.

This time, it wasn't just a shot of his torso. It was him—fully visible, leaning back against a sleek leather couch, one arm lazily draped over the backrest. He wasn't trying too hard, and yet the confidence was unmistakable. Sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, a smirk that felt like a challenge.

'Tch. Dangerous.'

Not in the real sense, of course. But in the way that made a woman wonder—What if?

She clicked her tongue, exhaling softly.

'If only things were different.'

If she weren't Celia Everwyn, if she weren't bound to a future she didn't choose, if she could act on impulse without consequences…

But that wasn't her reality.

So instead, she played along.

@CeliaE: "Not bad. But tell me—do you always try this hard, or am I just special?"

@NeroV: "Do you want to be special?"

She smiled.

Just then….

KNOCK!

A sharp knock echoed through the room, abrupt and firm.

Celia's brows furrowed.

Who would dare disturb her at this hour?

She parted her lips to speak, to demand who it was, but before she could even utter a word—

The door slammed open.

Her father strode in.

Victor Everwyn.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"