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

Isabelle met his gaze head-on.

She should have felt irritated. Disgusted. Even intimidated.

But for some reason—she didn't.

Damien towered over her, his smirk lazy, his sharp blue eyes glinting with something unreadable. Most girls in this school would have already taken a step back, flustered or uncomfortable. Yet, she remained where she was, glaring right into his gaze.

And that was when she noticed something strange.

Something that made her pause.

His eyes—they held desire, yes. There was a spark of interest in them, a lingering amusement that told her he was enjoying this confrontation far more than he should. But it wasn't the kind of desire that set off alarms in her mind.

It wasn't the lecherous hunger she had come to despise.

It wasn't the kind that crawled against her skin, that made her feel like she needed to step away, to create distance, to protect herself.

She knew that kind of gaze all too well.

She had trained herself to recognize it.

The first time she had come to the capital, she had been naïve—too trusting, too eager to prove herself. She had nearly been tricked by a group of university students, their intentions masked behind charming smiles and false kindness.

She had been lucky that night. She had escaped.

But from that day on, she had learned.

She had honed her instincts, sharpened her awareness. She had trained herself to recognize the weight of a man's gaze before he even spoke. She had learned to feel the difference between admiration and objectification. Between respect and possession.

And now?

As she looked into Damien Elford's eyes—

Her instincts remained silent.

No disgust. No unease.

Just… something else.

Something different.

She could see the desire in his gaze—burning and undeniable. And yet, her body didn't react the way it should have.

It wasn't lust.

It wasn't that filthy, possessive greed she had endured from others.

It was interest. Amusement. A hunger for something more.

That realization unsettled her.

Because she shouldn't care.

And yet, for a brief, fleeting moment—

It felt kind of nice.

Her brows furrowed.

No. No.

She wasn't going to let herself get caught up in something ridiculous.

Her glare hardened as she straightened her posture, tilting her chin up slightly.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused, her voice cool and steady.

Damien chuckled softly. "Oh, very much so."

She narrowed her eyes.

He was playing with her. That much was obvious. But for the first time, she wasn't sure if he was doing it because he actually wanted to win the bet—

Or because he wanted her reaction.

And that annoyed her.

More than it should have.

She exhaled through her nose, willing herself to focus. "Fine," she said at last, her voice sharp. "You want a bet? You have one."

Isabelle exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she fixed Damien with an unimpressed glare.

"I'm not agreeing to those conditions," she stated firmly.

Damien raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Oh? Why not? Afraid you'll lose?"

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I simply don't have time to be someone's girlfriend—especially over a bet. In the first place, I hate casual flings and pointless games like these."

Damien hummed, tilting his head slightly, as if considering her words.

Isabelle pressed on. "If I were to be someone's girlfriend, I'd need to actually know them first. There's no way I'd agree to something as shallow as this."

For a moment, silence settled between them.

Then—

Damien let out a low chuckle.

Amused.

Almost… satisfied.

Slowly, he retracted his hand from the wall, stepping back just enough to give her space. But his sharp blue eyes never left hers.

"I know that," he said smoothly.

Isabelle blinked, her brows furrowing. "…You knew?"

"Yep." Damien shrugged. "Class Rep, you've never had a boyfriend before, have you?"

Her eyes narrowed at the assumption. "That's none of your business."

Damien only smirked. "It's obvious." He glanced at her, his gaze briefly flickering over her form before meeting her eyes again. "With a figure like yours, you could have had one if you wanted."

Isabelle's lips pressed into a thin line.

She had been complimented before—backhandedly, indirectly, sometimes lecherously.

But this?

This was different.

There was no slimy undertone to his words, no underlying attempt to fluster her or make her uncomfortable. It was a simple, confident statement. Like he was just acknowledging an obvious fact.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Then why say it in the first place?" she asked, her voice clipped.

Damien smirked, and then—

"I just wanted to make my intentions clear," he said simply.

He lifted a hand, pressing his thumb and index finger against his lips in a thoughtful pose, as if mulling something over.

"Let's say…"

His smirk deepened.

"Instead of being my girlfriend, how about this?" He met her gaze, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "If I manage to place in the top twenty-five, you'll agree to be my study partner."

Isabelle's brows furrowed slightly. "…Study partner?"

"Yep." Damien leaned back slightly, his smirk lazy. "You're the smartest student in this school, Class Rep. If I'm really wasting my potential, then who better to keep me in check than you?"

She eyed him carefully, trying to read between the lines.

This was… different.

Less of a game. Less of a ridiculous challenge meant to throw her off.

And more—

More like a test.

She exhaled slowly, folding her arms as she considered it.

It was still a waste of her time.

And yet—

Her instincts told her this was the right answer.

And for reasons she didn't quite understand—

She didn't want to say no.

Isabelle exhaled slowly, crossing her arms as she watched Damien carefully.

"Fine," she said at last. "If you really manage to place in the top twenty-five, then I'll agree to be your study partner."

Damien's smirk widened slightly, but before he could speak, she continued.

"But," she added, tilting her chin up slightly, "if you don't—then you will never sleep in class again. You will attend every single meeting, every lecture, and your attendance will be perfect from now on."

Damien raised an eyebrow.

"And," Isabelle pressed on, "when we're in school, you'll listen to me. No more slacking off, no more skipping responsibilities, no more being a distraction in class."

A silence stretched between them.

She had purposefully made the conditions unfair, expecting to see some flicker of irritation on his face. Some hint that he would push back, try to negotiate.

But instead—

Damien chuckled.

Low. Amused.

His sharp blue eyes gleamed as he waved a hand dismissively.

"Since I won't lose, it doesn't matter, does it?" he said smoothly.

Isabelle's eyes narrowed.

"You're that confident?"

He shrugged. "It's only the top twenty-five, Class Rep. Not like you told me to place first or anything."

She frowned slightly. The way he said that—so casual, so unbothered—was more irritating than if he had argued back.

"You do realize that placing in the top twenty-five is no small feat," she said coolly. "You've spent years at the bottom of the academic rankings. There's no way you can just—"

Damien grinned. "Then you shouldn't be worried, right?"

Isabelle clenched her jaw.

Something about the sheer ease in his expression made her feel unsettled.

Like she had just walked into a trap without realizing it.

But it was too late to back out now.

She extended her hand. "Then it's a deal."

Damien glanced down at her hand before smirking again.

Without hesitation, he grasped it.

His grip was firm, steady, warm.

"Deal."

And just like that—

Something told Isabelle that she had severely underestimated him.

****

Isabelle exhaled sharply, retracting her hand the moment the deal was sealed. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her posture crisp, her movements sharp with finality.

Damien watched her go, amusement glinting in his sharp blue eyes.

She was irritated.

Not just by the bet itself, but by him.

And that was exactly what made this so much fun.

The moment she stepped out of the study room, he followed, his pace unhurried, his smirk ever-present.

Then—

DING!

A familiar chime echoed in his mind, and just as expected, a translucent blue window materialized before his eyes.

—----------------------------------

[New Quest: Win the Bet]

You have started another bet with someone. And as a scoundrel, you should never lose your pride.

Objective: Place in the top twenty-five of the upcoming exams.

Reward: +250 SP

Failure Penalty: -50 SP, Loss of Isabelle's Study Partner Condition

—----------------------------------

Damien chuckled under his breath.

'The system really does love making things official, doesn't it?'

But he wasn't complaining.

This wasn't just about the bet anymore.

This was about proving something.

Not just to Isabelle. Not just to the class.

But to himself.

Because no matter how amusing this game was—

No matter how much fun he had teasing her, riling her up, pushing her buttons—

One simple fact remained:

Damien Elford did not intend to lose.