Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 79: Knight in shining armor

The stunned silence lingered for only a second before it was shattered by a sharp, furious voice.

"DAMIEN!"

Heads whipped toward the source of the shout.

A figure strode forward, his expression a mixture of disbelief and barely restrained fury.

He stopped right in front of Damien, standing between him and Celia like a shield.

"You have gone too far!" the young man snapped, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Apologize. Right now."

Leon Ardent.

A student of Class 4-A—the same as Damien.

The stunned silence lingered for only a second before it was shattered by a sharp, furious voice.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and always composed, Leon was a well-respected figure at Vermillion Private School. Son of a high-ranking military general and an influential diplomat, he carried an air of nobility and discipline, a natural leader among his peers.

Unlike many of the arrogant rich kids who flaunted their wealth and power, Leon held himself with honor. He was known for his strong sense of justice, his unwavering principles, and—most importantly—his long-standing friendship with Celia Everwyn.

If there was anyone who would stand in her defense, it was him.

His golden-brown eyes burned with fury as he glared at Damien.

"I don't care what happened between you two," Leon continued, his voice sharp. "You've crossed the line. You're acting like a disgrace."

Behind him, Celia remained still.

Her expression had returned to one of perfect composure, but Damien could feel the tension radiating off of her. The barely contained rage simmering beneath the surface.

She wasn't speaking.

She didn't have to.

Leon was speaking for her.

And that only made Damien's smirk widen.

"Too far?" he echoed, his voice laced with amusement. "That's funny."

Leon's jaw tightened. "There's nothing funny about this, Damien. You insulted Celia in front of everyone—"

"And?" Damien cut him off, tilting his head.

Damien let out a short, sharp chuckle.

"I said whatever the fuck I wanted." His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Is there a problem with that?"

Leon's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "Yeah, there is," he snapped. "What you said was disrespectful and degrading."

His voice rang through the courtyard, strong and righteous—like a knight defending his lady's honor.

Damien scoffed. "Disrespectful? You act like I spat on something sacred." He tilted his head, glancing at Celia for a fraction of a second before looking back at Leon. "Degrading? Oh, my bad. I didn't realize Celia suddenly developed dignity."

A few scattered gasps rang out from the crowd. Even Celia's entourage flinched.

But Leon—

Leon steeled himself.

His body language shifted ever so slightly—his broad shoulders squared, his stance strong, his golden-brown eyes filled with fury.

And that's when Damien saw it.

This wasn't just about morality.

Leon Ardent—Vermillion's righteous, honorable, upstanding student—wasn't just defending Celia because it was right.

No.

He was defending her because he wanted to.

Because he cared.

Because he had always cared.

Damien's smirk deepened, sharp as a blade.

'Ah. So that's how it is, huh?'

"All this righteousness," Damien mused, crossing his arms. "Acting like you're some noble protector, standing up for justice." His gaze flickered, cold and knowing. "But we both know the truth, don't we, Leon?"

Leon's posture stiffened.

Damien's voice lowered, taunting, deliberate. "This isn't about honor. This isn't about respect. It's about her."

Leon's body tensed, his golden-brown eyes darkening with something far deeper than anger.

But Damien?

Damien only laughed.

Low. Amused. Mocking.

He could see it now. See it written all over Leon's face—the restraint, the carefully maintained image, the performance he was putting on for the crowd. But beneath that carefully curated righteousness was something raw.

Something desperate.

"You act all noble," Damien mused, crossing his arms lazily. "But tell me, Leon—what is it that you really want?"

He tilted his head, his icy-blue gaze sharp as a blade.

"Do you want to fuck her?"

The air around them froze.

A ripple of shocked gasps spread through the crowd.

Leon's face twisted into something unreadable. "You—!"

"Or are you the pure type?" Damien interrupted smoothly, smirk widening. "Taking her out on dates, giving her the best life she deserves—" He let out a short, mocking chuckle. "Hah. That's it, isn't it?"

His voice dripped with cruel amusement.

"You're that guy. The knight in shining armor." Damien's gaze flickered to Celia for a second, watching the way her fingers twitched at her sides, then back to Leon. "Let me guess, you've been waiting, huh? Hoping one day she'd finally look at you."

Leon's fists clenched tighter.

A nerve had been struck.

A deep, ugly truth had been exposed.

And Damien wasn't finished.

He stepped closer, his voice lowering, laced with venom.

"Suits you," he murmured, his smirk turning razor-sharp. "You might as well take her when she's railed by everyone and has no other choice."

A single beat of silence.

Then—

Leon moved.

A fist swung, fast and powerful, aimed straight for Damien's face.

CRACK!

The fist slammed into Damien's face with full force.

This wasn't like Celia's slaps—those had been sharp, humiliating, meant to degrade rather than hurt.

But this?

This was raw. This was brutal. This was rage.

The impact sent Damien stumbling backward, his body—still sluggish despite his weight loss—unable to react in time. His footing failed him, and in the next second—

THUD!

He hit the ground.

Pain exploded through his jaw, the taste of iron filling his mouth as his head spun for a moment.

The crowd gasped, some students instinctively stepping back.

This wasn't a playful scuffle.

This was real.

"YOU BASTARD!" Leon's voice thundered through the courtyard. His breathing was heavy, his fists still clenched, his entire body radiating fury. "You think you can just say shit like that and walk away?!"

His golden-brown eyes blazed with righteous fury as he stepped toward Damien, towering over him.

"You're disgusting," Leon spat. "You insult Celia, you insult everyone—acting like you're some victim when you're just a bitter piece of shit who couldn't handle being rejected!"

Damien didn't move at first.

Didn't react.

Didn't even breathe.

Then—

Slowly—

He lifted his head.

His icy-blue eyes locked onto Leon.

And something inside them had changed.

The casual amusement? Gone.

The arrogant smirk? Vanished.

What was left was something cold.

Something empty.

Something dangerous.

Leon faltered, just for a second.

A second too long.

Damien spit blood onto the ground beside him, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and exhaled slowly.

Then, in a quiet, unsettling voice, he murmured—

"...That all you got?"

Leon's body tensed, his muscles coiling as he prepared to swing again. His golden-brown eyes were burning, his breathing ragged, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled.

But before he could move—

A strong grip yanked him back.

"Let me go!" Leon snarled, twisting, but whoever held him wasn't letting up.

"L-Leon, stop!"

It was Victoria.

She had latched onto his arm, her expression tight with panic, using all her strength to hold him back. Cassandra and Lillian, eyes wide with shock, quickly moved in to help, their hands pressing against his chest, stopping him from lunging forward.

And Damien?

Damien slowly stood up.

He was still shaking—not from fear, not from weakness, but from something deeper. Something dark.

His body was sluggish, still heavy, still slow—but he moved with purpose. With certainty.

He wiped more blood from the corner of his mouth, tilting his jaw slightly, rolling out the pain. His blue eyes, once filled with arrogance and amusement, had turned into something glacial.

Something hollow.

And then—

He laughed.

A quiet, bitter chuckle, filled with disgust.

"You fucking losers," he muttered, his voice laced with venom. "This—" he gestured at the scene before him, at Leon being restrained, at the stunned faces around him, at Celia standing frozen behind it all, "—is why whores like her have power they don't fucking deserve."

Leon stiffened.

Damien's gaze was ruthless, piercing, filled with nothing but contempt.

"You're pathetic," he spat. "Ruined your life because of a random whore like this."

Leon's expression twisted into pure rage.

"You son of a—!"

This time, he broke free.

This time, his fist was inches away from Damien's face.

But before it could land—

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"ENOUGH!"

A thunderous voice rang through the courtyard.

It was sharp. Authoritative.

The kind of voice that shattered every last ounce of tension in an instant.

Every head turned.

A tall figure in a crisp black instructor's uniform stood at the edge of the courtyard, his expression thunderous, his presence demanding silence.

Instructor Galen Kross.

One of Vermillion Private School's most feared instructors.