Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

"You've forced my hand today, Leon. I had to play along, had to give him what he wanted—because you didn't think before you acted. I was almost swept up in your mistake."

Galen let the silence stretch between them, watching as the full weight of his words began to sink into Leon's thick skull. The boy's breathing was uneven, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. But that defiant spark still lingered in his eyes, the same reckless arrogance that had nearly dragged Galen down with him.

It was infuriating.

Galen exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, before delivering the final blow.

"You need to contact your father. Immediately."

Leon blinked, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

Galen's gaze hardened. "You heard me." His voice was even, almost deceptively calm. "If you have even the slightest shred of intelligence left, you'll inform him of what happened before Damien does."

Leon took half a step back, confusion and frustration warring on his face. "But I—"

"Shut. Up."

Leon flinched again, his mouth snapping shut under the sheer force of Galen's glare.

"Listen to me, you damn fool." Galen took a step closer, lowering his voice into something cold and absolute. "Damien Elford didn't throw a single punch today. Do you understand what that means?"

Leon hesitated. "It means—"

"It means this was one-sided aggression," Galen cut in sharply. "It means you were the only one who acted with violence. It means you are the only one at fault." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "And worst of all… it means Damien didn't need to fight back."

Leon's jaw tightened, but Galen could see it now—that flicker of doubt creeping into his expression, the slow, dawning realization of how badly he had screwed up.

"This isn't over," Galen continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Damien may have walked away, but don't fool yourself into thinking that means he's done. The fact that he didn't react? That he let himself get hit? That he let everyone see him bleed without so much as lifting a finger?"

Galen's eyes narrowed.

"It means he doesn't need to deal with you himself."

Leon sucked in a sharp breath.

"He's going to let his father do it for him."

For the first time since this conversation began, Galen saw it—true, unmistakable fear flashing in Leon's expression.

Good.

Finally, the idiot understood.

Galen straightened, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. "Now, if I were you, I'd find a way to explain this to your father before he hears it from someone else. Because when the Elford family gets involved… you're going to wish you'd handled this differently."

Leon's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked away, fists still clenched, but the fire in his eyes had been extinguished. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off, moving with a mixture of frustration and barely concealed panic.

Galen watched him go, his expression carefully neutral until the boy was finally out of sight.

Then, and only then, did he let out a long, slow sigh.

"Fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

His fingers twitched toward his temple, the first stirrings of an impending headache beginning to set in. Today was supposed to be simple. The start of the new term. A fresh beginning for the academy. But no—because of Leon's idiocy, he had spent the morning putting out a fire that should never have been lit in the first place.

And it wasn't even fully extinguished yet.

Rolling his shoulders, Galen reached for his communicator, quickly inputting a direct line to the infirmary. The call connected within seconds, and a crisp, professional voice answered.

"Infirmary. This is Nurse Elise speaking."

Galen exhaled sharply. "Elise, I need you to be at the medical wing immediately."

There was a brief pause before the woman's voice returned, cool and efficient. "Understood. Is it an emergency?"

"Not life-threatening, but serious enough," Galen replied. "A student, Damien Elford, took a hit to the face. He's already on his way there. Make sure he's treated properly."

"Elford?" Elise's voice carried the faintest trace of recognition. "Understood. I'll be there within the next three minutes."

"Good." Galen cut the line without another word, slipping the communicator back into his pocket.

That was one problem taken care of.

Now for the next.

Straightening his uniform, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the main assembly hall. The entrance ceremony would be starting soon, and today, he was the one delivering the opening speech.

It wasn't something he usually cared for—he preferred discipline over theatrics, structure over sentiment—but this was his first year as Vice-Head of the academy. His first time standing before the entire student body, making it clear that things would be different under his authority.

And if today was any indication…

It was going to be a long year.

****

The moment Instructor Galen Kross hauled Damien and Leon away, the courtyard fell into a strange, uneasy silence.

It wasn't just the usual aftermath of a fight—this was different.

It wasn't just the bruises, the blood, or the clash of fists that had left the gathered students speechless. It was Damien Elford himself.

The Damien they had known—the pathetic, lovesick fool who had spent years crawling after Celia like a starving dog—was gone.

And what had taken his place?

Something they didn't recognize.

Something cold.

Something wrong.

Victoria exchanged an uneasy glance with Cassandra, the disbelief still lingering in her emerald-green eyes. Lillian crossed her arms over her chest, exhaling sharply as if trying to shake off the bizarre sense of unease clinging to the air.

"I… I still don't get it," Cassandra muttered, her voice uncertain. "What the hell just happened?"

"No idea," Victoria admitted, shaking her head. "Damien Elford—that Damien Elford—just said all of that? Just did all of that?"

Lillian scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Disgusting. I don't know what kind of delusion he's living in, but he's lost his damn mind. He used to be pathetic, sure, but at least he knew his place."

"Yeah," Victoria agreed, a frown deepening on her face. "But now? What was that? The way he spoke—the way he just stood there like he didn't care?" She shuddered. "It didn't even feel like Damien anymore."

A soft, low chuckle broke through the tense atmosphere.

The girls turned.

Iris Blackwood stood just a few steps away, a knowing smirk curving her lips.

She hadn't spoken during the confrontation. Hadn't intervened. Hadn't even looked surprised.

And now?

Now, she was laughing.

Celia's emerald eyes narrowed dangerously. "What's so funny?"

Iris tilted her head slightly, brushing back a strand of emerald-green hair before flashing Celia an infuriatingly amused glance.

"Oh, nothing," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. "I just finally understand why those engagement rumors were so persistent."

Celia's breath hitched—so subtly that only someone as sharp as Iris would have caught it.

A beat of silence stretched between them before Celia let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Excuse me?"

Iris shrugged, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Come now, Celia," she mused. "After what we just witnessed? Tell me, are you still engaged, or did Damien Elford finally grow a spine and throw you away like yesterday's trash?"

A sharp tension filled the air.

Cassandra's face twisted with anger. "Iris!"

"That's enough," Victoria snapped, stepping forward. "Don't talk like this is some joke. You saw what he did. You heard what he said. He insulted Celia. He insulted all of us!"

Lillian nodded in agreement, folding her arms. "I don't care how much weight he's lost. That was vulgar. He's vulgar. He's still just a worthless, bitter bastard who—"

"A worthless, bitter bastard," Iris repeated lightly, her smirk widening, "who still had the audacity to walk away from Celia Everwyn like she was nothing."

Celia's fingers twitched against her skirt.

She was holding herself back.

Holding herself together.

Because Iris was toying with her—picking at the fresh wound that hadn't even begun to scab over yet.

Before anyone could snap back, a few of the nearby male students joined in.

"Tch. He really thought he was saying something back there," one of them muttered, rolling his eyes. "Acting all high and mighty like some misunderstood anti-hero. Pathetic."

"Right? He was always trash, but at least he used to be quiet trash," another guy scoffed. "Now he's just a loud, embarrassing joke. The way he talked—" He wrinkled his nose. "Like some low-life from the slums."

"Disgusting," another added. "If I were Leon, I wouldn't have stopped at one punch."

The courtyard buzzed with growing voices of distaste.

Because even though Damien Elford had changed, his past had not.

And no matter how much he pretended otherwise—

None of them were willing to forget.