Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 74: School (2)

Celia walked through the grand hallways of Vermillion Private School, her steps poised, calculated. The hushed whispers of students lingered behind her like an aftershock, but she paid them no mind. She had always drawn attention. That was nothing new.

What mattered now was him.

Damien.

Her emerald-green eyes flickered with cold determination. She had waited long enough. Vivienne may have barred her from the Elford estate, but here? In this school? There were no walls, no guards, no one to keep her away.

Celia would find him. And when she did—he would answer to her.

Her heels clicked against the polished marble floors as she approached the 4-A classroom, the designated location for their homeroom. The corridors were flooded with students exchanging greetings, slipping into their classrooms, discussing upcoming coursework.

None of them mattered.

She arrived at the large wooden doors of Class 4-A and stopped.

He wasn't here yet.

Of course, that fool had always been slow to arrive in the mornings. She would wait.

But before she could even lean against the doorway—

"What a surprise."

A smooth, rich voice filled the space.

Celia didn't even need to turn to know who it belonged to.

Iris Blackwood.

She forced a smile as she turned, already feeling the familiar disdain curling in her chest.

There she stood. Iris Blackwood.

Everything about her was effortless—her long emerald-green hair cascading over her shoulders, her crimson eyes gleaming with thinly veiled amusement. Her uniform, tailored to perfection, looked almost like it had been made for her alone. And, of course, she carried herself with the unshakable presence of someone who had never once tasted inferiority.

Celia hated her.

Despised her.

Not simply because of her arrogance. Not because of her ever-present, infuriatingly composed smile.

But because she could afford to be like this.

Iris' family—the Blackwoods—were beyond powerful. Beyond untouchable. While Celia's own family fought and negotiated for their place among the elite, the Blackwoods simply were.

No struggle. No compromises. Absolute authority.

And Iris?

She had never needed to fight for anything in her life.

Yet here she stood, smiling at Celia as if they were old friends.

Celia returned the smile, just as polished, just as insincere.

"Iris," she greeted smoothly. "How unexpected."

Iris let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer with that effortless grace that Celia loathed. "Unexpected? Really?" Her red eyes gleamed with something playful, something deliberately provoking. "I would say it's expected, actually. After all, you and I… we always seem to find each other, don't we?"

Celia's fingers twitched slightly against her skirt, but her expression remained perfectly serene.

'This bitch.'

It was true.

She and Iris had always been rivals. Not openly, not in direct confrontations—but in everything that mattered.

Social influence. Status. Respect.

And most importantly—who shined the brightest.

"Yes," Celia replied with a soft laugh, her voice smooth as silk. "I suppose we do."

They smiled at each other.

Neither of them meant it.

Beneath the surface, a silent battle raged.

The air between them remained deceptively light, a veil of civility carefully maintained, but beneath the polished words and polite smiles, Celia could feel the undercurrent of tension—the unspoken challenge.

Iris tilted her head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming as she let out a soft, almost musical chuckle. "It's been quite the eventful summer, hasn't it?" she mused, folding her arms elegantly. "Especially for the Everwyns."

Celia's smile didn't falter, but inside, her irritation flared.

She knew where this was going.

"Oh?" she responded smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you referring to?"

Iris exhaled, as if indulging a casual conversation. "Your father's company, of course," she said, her voice carrying the silken edge of amusement. "The Everwyn Research Center has been making some interesting moves lately."

Celia remained still, her expression perfectly poised.

She would not react.

Iris continued, her words deliberate. "I heard about the recent investments—rather ambitious, aren't they?" A knowing glint flickered in her crimson eyes. "Of course, when compared to what my family does, it's… well, I suppose you could call it child's play."

Celia's nails pressed against her palm, but her smile remained in place.

'Iris, you condescending bitch.'

The way she said it—so effortless, so casual, so utterly dismissive—it made Celia want to wipe that look off her face.

But she wouldn't give Iris the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

Instead, Celia let out a light, amused breath. "I see," she murmured. "Well, I wouldn't expect the Blackwoods to understand the struggles of building something with effort. When everything is simply handed to you, I suppose ambition seems unnecessary."

Iris's eyes flashed ever so slightly, but her smile didn't break.

A hit.

A minor one, but a hit nonetheless.

Celia watched, waiting for the retaliation, knowing that Iris would never let a jab go unanswered.

And sure enough—

Iris leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to feign a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, Celia, I do admire your persistence," she said, her lips curling at the edges. "After all, it must be exhausting constantly chasing after crumbs."

Celia's fingers twitched.

'Crumbs?'

Her father's business, their entire legacy—reduced to crumbs in Iris' eyes?

It took everything in Celia to keep her expression composed.

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The urge to snap back was burning inside her, but she swallowed it down. This was how Iris played.

Elegant. Subtle. Deadly.

Every word a needle, threading into place just beneath the surface, designed to sting without drawing blood.

Celia inhaled slowly, exhaling just as elegantly, as if nothing had touched her.

"How kind of you to be concerned, Iris," she said smoothly, tilting her head ever so slightly. "But I assure you, we don't need charity."

Celia could feel it.

She was losing.

She had played these verbal battles with Iris before, countless times, but today, she felt off balance. Normally, she would have been able to twist the conversation back, pull the strings her way, land sharper hits that would have Iris laughing on the surface but irritated underneath.

But not today.

Not after the week she had.

Not after the humiliation at the Elford estate.

Her mind was too raw, her patience too frayed, and Iris knew it.

Celia exhaled lightly, her smile unwavering, her posture untouched, but she could feel the weight of each word sinking into her skin. If she stayed on this topic, she would only be forced to endure more of Iris' carefully veiled mockery.

Time to shift.

"And yet," Celia said smoothly, as if the previous exchange had barely registered, "despite my supposed struggles, it seems the Blackwoods have been rather busy themselves."

Iris lifted an eyebrow, but there was no surprise in her gaze.

Iris lifted an eyebrow, crimson eyes gleaming with mild amusement. "Oh?" she mused, tilting her head slightly. "How very informed of you, Celia."

Celia ignored the condescension laced in her tone. She had no patience for it today. "I heard that the Blackwoods recently tried to secure a rather lucrative deal with the Rousseau family," she continued smoothly, watching Iris carefully. "Only for the Von Auster Guild to step in at the last moment and snatch it away."

For the first time, Iris's smile paused, just for a fraction of a second—barely noticeable, but there.

Celia pressed forward. "That must have been unfortunate," she murmured, tilting her head ever so slightly. "It's not often the Blackwoods… lose."

A jab. A small, calculated one.

If she couldn't win this exchange, she could at least land a wound deep enough to be remembered.

But Iris simply chuckled, as if Celia had just said something childishly amusing.

"One opportunity leaves, another comes," she replied effortlessly, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. "You don't think we're fragile enough for one deal to matter, do you?" Her crimson gaze flickered, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "That would be such a shame."

Celia's fingers twitched slightly, but she didn't let her expression waver.

Iris had countered her move effortlessly—as expected.

And then, just as Celia had predicted, she struck back.

"But speaking of losing…" Iris mused, tapping a delicate finger against her chin, as if something had just come to mind. "I imagine you've had quite the eventful week yourself, haven't you?"

Celia's breath caught—so subtly that no one else would have noticed.

But Iris did.

She felt the shift immediately.

"Oh?" Celia asked, keeping her voice light, but she already knew where this was going.

Iris' crimson gaze glittered as she smiled. "Come now, Celia. No need to pretend. It's no secret that the Elford engagement has been called off."

A direct hit.

Celia's nails pressed into her palm.

She had known this topic would come up eventually, but not so soon. Not so directly.

Iris was waiting for a reaction. A crack in Celia's perfect, impenetrable exterior.

But Celia Everwyn did not break.

Instead, she let out a soft, amused chuckle. "Ah," she sighed lightly, shaking her head as if the topic were barely worth her time. "So that's what this is about. You're interested in gossip now, Iris? How unlike you."

A smooth deflection.

But Iris wasn't done.

"Not gossip," Iris corrected, her voice honeyed with mock sympathy. "Just… curious. After all, it's quite a rare sight, isn't it?"