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

Chapter 236: Another Challenge

Adeline’s smirk wavered.

Slightly.

It was subtle—so subtle most would miss it. A blink too long. A pause mid-step. Her pupils dilated just a fraction, and the smile she wore faltered beneath the veneer of control.

Because now that she was close—within five steps of her brother—she felt it.

That strange, subtle pressure.

Her body noticed it before her mind could frame it: her breath catching for a half-second, her shoulders bristling, something beneath her skin whispering a warning she couldn’t explain.

What the hell…

She masked it instantly, but not fast enough. Her eyes narrowed faintly—not in anger, but in quiet recalibration. She studied Damien again, but this time not as a nuisance or an amusing variable.

There was a shift.

He stood calmly, posture relaxed, hands at his sides—but there was a stillness about him that was too heavy. Too full. The kind of silence one only ever felt before a spell detonated, or when standing near a beast with its claws just barely hidden beneath its fur.

She didn’t know what it was.

But she knew it hadn’t been there last time.

Her voice, when it came again, was softer. Still cool. But dipped in curiosity now.

“…Did something happen to you?”

Damien met her eyes. Unflinching.

The ghost of a smile played at the edge of his lips.

“You tell me, Sister.”

Adeline’s brows furrowed, the flicker of curiosity rapidly giving way to something sharper—colder.

Annoyance.

Discomfort cloaked in familiarity.

Because when she didn’t understand something about Damien, her first instinct wasn’t wonder.

It was distrust.

“Tch,” she exhaled, stepping further into the room, arms folding across her chest. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

Dominic didn’t interrupt. He watched quietly, the firelight catching the edge of his cheekbone like a flicker of tension in still water.

Adeline turned her full attention on Damien now.

“You disappeared again this morning, didn’t you?” she asked, the accusation thinly veiled beneath the calm. “You were uncontactable this morning.”

Her voice sharpened just slightly.

“Let me guess. You ran off to do something reckless. Something idiotic. Again.”

Damien didn’t reply.

Not with words.

He just watched her, head slightly tilted, his expression unreadable—but maddeningly calm.

And that infuriated her more than if he’d snapped back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she hissed. “You might have lost the weight. You might have grown some backbone. But I remember who you were.”

Her tone dripped with sharp-edged memory now.

“The boy who locked himself in his room for a month because some second-rate noble mocked him in public. The brat who wasted ten thousand credits on a mana-forging set he never even unboxed. The one who used to cry because he couldn’t memorize glyph structures while everyone else advanced.”

Her arms tightened across her chest.

“You think I’m impressed just because you’re standing straighter now? Because Father called you in for one talk?”

Damien’s eyes didn’t flicker.

Not once.

He didn’t flinch at the venom in her voice. Didn’t blink at the memories she so clearly clung to like weapons.

He simply straightened.

Not in anger.

But in dominance.

And when he spoke, his voice was cool. Not raised. Not mocking.

Just laced with the kind of precision that left bruises long after the words faded.

“Are you still doing this, Adeline?” he said softly. “Still reaching back for a version of me that makes you feel taller?”

Her mouth opened—slightly—but he didn’t give her space to interrupt.

“You think reciting my past makes you sound in control, but all it really does is show that’s the only ground you still own.”

He stepped toward her.

Once.

No power flared. No aura surged. But even that single step twisted the air—just slightly. Like space itself wanted to move aside.

“You speak of who I was like it’s a shield for who you still are.”

His gaze locked on hers—sharp, unrelenting.

“In reality,” he said, voice like a blade slipped beneath armor, “you’re just a bitch who can’t think of anything outside the box you built for yourself. A world where you win, and I fail—because that’s the only version where you’re safe.”

Adeline’s eyes flared.

He stepped closer.

“Might as well not use your head at all,” Damien said, voice dipping. “If you’re not going to let it accept reality.”

The air shifted—taut, crackling.

And then—

“You arrogant little—!” Adeline snapped, her voice rising for the first time. The crack in her composure split clean down the center.

“Just because you lost some weight—just because you stopped crying in your bedroom—doesn’t mean you’re some shit now,” she spat. “You think you’ve changed because you can hold a conversation and stand upright without panting?”

She took a step toward him now, fists clenched at her sides.

“You’re still nothing. Still the family mistake we all had to tiptoe around. The only difference now is that you’ve found new ways to pretend.”

Damien didn’t flinch.

Not once.

He just tilted his head—slightly.

And smiled.

“You really need to grow up a little more,” Damien said, voice low, smooth, utterly undisturbed. “Who said I only lost weight?”

He let the words breathe, let them settle like dust in an empty hall.

“That was just the beginning.”

Adeline scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter.

“Oh, this and that,” she sneered. “You’ve been running your mouth for quite a while already. All these cryptic words, all this posture. If you’ve really changed so much…” She stepped closer, chin lifted. “Why not show some results?”

Her tone held challenge—but under it, Dominic heard something else.

Tension. Not fear. Not yet.

But pressure.

Dominic stood, finally. Not with force, but with presence. His movement was enough to command silence in lesser rooms.

“Enough,” he said, voice cutting through the tension like tempered steel. “Both of you.”

Damien didn’t move.

Adeline turned sharply toward their father, frustration bubbling up beneath the surface veneer she wore.

“What?” she snapped. “Am I wrong?”

Dominic’s eyes met hers—flat, unreadable.

Adeline’s jaw was tight, arms folded, her weight shifted onto one heel like she was preparing for a deeper blow. She didn’t want to back down. Wouldn’t.

The silence stretched—

—and then Damien’s voice cut through it. Calm. Crisp.

“No,” he said. “She’s not wrong.”

Adeline blinked once, thrown by the agreement. Dominic’s brow lifted slightly as well, but Damien didn’t turn to him.

Instead, he took a step forward—just one—and locked eyes with his sister.

“Why not show some results…?” he echoed, voice steady. “That would be better.”

Adeline opened her mouth, uncertain if it was to cut back or call his bluff—but Damien was already speaking again.

“I’ll grow my own business.”

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