Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 83: Nurse

Blood dripped from Damien's split lip, staining the stone pathway beneath his feet. His body ached, jaw throbbing from Leon's punch, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened, stretching across his face like a predator baring its fangs.

'Two quests completed at the same time.'

He let out a slow, shaky exhale, wiping the blood off with the back of his hand. His tongue flicked against his teeth, tasting the metallic tang. The pain was real. The consequences were real. And yet, standing there, battered and bruised, Damien felt nothing but satisfaction.

'Celia Everwyn, humiliated in front of her little entourage. The perfect, untouchable queen, reduced to nothing but a liar scrambling for control.'

A sharp laugh clawed its way up his throat.

'Leon Ardent, the noble idiot, reduced to nothing more than an angry dog, lashing out without thinking. His so-called composure, shattered in front of everyone.'

He spat onto the ground again, ignoring the glances of passing students who had witnessed the entire spectacle. Some looked at him with shock. Others with curiosity. And a few—just a few—held something new in their eyes.

Recognition.

Respect.

'So that's how it is, huh?' He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. 'Kick a dog long enough, and no one even spares it a glance. But the moment it bares its teeth, everyone starts watching.'

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

The system's notifications still flickered at the edge of his vision.

[Quest Completed: Humiliate Celia Everwyn]

+200 SP

+5 Reputation Shift: Fear and Respect

[Quest Completed: Disgrace Leon Ardent]

+100 SP

+2 Reputation Shift: Controversial Figure

And then, one more.

[Bonus: Acted like a Scoundrel]

+50 SP

+1 Infamy

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

'Not bad.'

His body was screaming at him to rest, to ice his bruises, to ease the pulsing ache in his jaw. But Damien ignored it. Instead, he walked. Slowly, deliberately, through the school grounds, each step measured, savoring the moment.

For the first time in his miserable existence, he had turned the tables.

For the first time, Celia wasn't in control.

For the first time, Leon wasn't the righteous, untouchable hero.

And most importantly—

For the first time, Damien Elford wasn't the one on his knees.

His smirk widened, icy-blue eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

'This is just the beginning.'

Damien's smirk hadn't faded when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without missing a beat, he fished it out, glancing at the caller ID.

Elysia.

He exhaled through his nose, unsurprised. Of course, she would call.

Bringing the phone to his ear, he answered smoothly. "Yeah?"

A soft breath of relief came from the other end before a firm, familiar voice followed.

"Young master, are you okay?"

Damien's smirk widened slightly.

Of course she would ask that first. She knew exactly what he was planning today—after all, he had informed her that he would be causing a scene at school. What he hadn't been entirely sure about was who would take the bait.

But deep down, he had suspected.

And sure enough, Leon Ardent had appeared, acting just as predictably as Damien had expected.

'Now I also have a reason to skip this school. Not bad.'

"I'm okay," he replied casually, rolling his shoulders as he stepped off the main school pathway. The aching in his jaw was still there, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. "Did you record everything?"

"I did."

"Good." His voice was steady, calculating. "Cut the part where I spoke and send only the part where Leon punched me to my father."

A brief silence. Then—

"Understood."

Elysia's response was instant, but there was something else there. A flicker of hesitation. A tension in her voice that hadn't been there before.

Before Damien could say anything, she spoke again.

"Your injury… Is it serious?"

He could hear the strain in her tone—subtle, but there. Not quite worry, but close.

He smirked slightly. "It's fine."

Another pause. Then, a softer voice, laced with something colder.

"I nearly attacked him."

Damien's steps slowed slightly. He could picture it. Elysia standing just outside the crowd, her sharp eyes fixed on the moment Leon raised his fist. Her fingers twitching at her side. Ready to move.

Ready to strike.

"I was going to subjugate him."

Her voice was calm, composed. But beneath it, there was a quiet fury, a restrained force that hadn't been unleashed.

And why?

Because at that moment, when she had been seconds away from stepping forward—

Damien had turned.

He had locked eyes with her.

And without a single word, he had stopped her.

A silent command. A warning.

She had obeyed. But even now, he could tell—she hadn't wanted to.

Damien chuckled under his breath. "Good. Then my training isn't the only thing progressing."

Elysia remained silent for a moment. Then—

"What do you plan to do now?"

Damien exhaled, his smirk still lingering as he brought the phone back to his ear. "Get the driver ready," he said, voice smooth and unwavering. "I'll get this wound treated, and then I'm leaving the school."

There was no protest from Elysia. Just silence. A hesitation, brief but present, before she finally responded.

"Understood."

She didn't ask for details. She didn't question his decision. That was one of the things Damien appreciated about Elysia—she knew when to hold her tongue.

"Also," he added, adjusting his stance as he leaned slightly against the cold metal railing by the school gates, "if my father asks about my absence, don't give him an excuse. Just let him call me."

A pause. Then a soft breath of acknowledgment.

"Noted."

With that, Damien ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. His fingers flexed slightly, the lingering ache in his jaw serving as a dull reminder of the events that had just unfolded. The sharp sting had already begun to settle into a deep, throbbing pain, but it didn't matter. The damage had been done, and more importantly, the pieces had been set into motion.

Yet, as he stood there, his body still humming with adrenaline, his thoughts drifted back—not to Leon's fist, not to the stunned crowd, not even to Celia's expression when he spit at her feet. No, his mind kept replaying those first moments, right when she had spoken to him. The moment he ignored her. The moment his body nearly refused to move.

'It wasn't hesitation. It wasn't fear.'

His jaw clenched slightly. He knew exactly what it was.

[Simp]

The trait that had been shackled to him, the disgusting, wretched part of his very being that had clung to Celia like an inescapable curse. When she had first addressed him, his body didn't ignore her out of defiance—it had locked up against his will. His throat had tightened, his chest had felt constricted, and his muscles had fought against his commands. The instinct to look at her, to respond, to obey had surged through him like a disease. The weight of it had been unbearable, worse than anything he had ever felt before. Because this wasn't just any woman. This was Celia Everwyn.

And then, when he finally managed to force himself to move, when he confronted her in front of everyone, the same thing had happened. His body had started shaking. The unbearable, crawling sensation had spread through his limbs, making his skin itch as if thousands of invisible insects were burrowing beneath the surface. Every muscle had screamed at him to kneel, to submit, to take back every word before it was too late.

He hated it.

He hated this feeling.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, ignoring the dull sting. No matter how much weight he lost, no matter how much he changed his behavior, no matter how much he rejected his old self—this trait was still latched onto him like a parasite, waiting for the perfect moment to sink its claws in deeper. Even now, after everything, it had still tried to drag him back down into the mud.

His breathing slowed, controlled, measured. It was fine. This wasn't the end. It was just a reminder of what still needed to be done.

"Yeah."

Damien turned slightly, his gaze catching on the reflection in the window beside him. The glass was faintly smudged, distorted by the midday sunlight, but his own face stared back at him—bloated, heavy, still burdened by the remnants of the old him. His jaw was swollen from the punch, a bruise already forming beneath his cheekbone, but that wasn't what made his lips curl in disgust. It was the chubbiness that still clung stubbornly to his features, the traces of his past self that refused to vanish completely.

'Old Damien Elford. I will erase everything about you from this world.'