Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate - Chapter 292: I drive

Chapter 292: I drive

Damien’s eyes flicked toward her, just briefly, but the weight of the glance landed like a quiet nudge. “What are you thinking about?”

Isabelle blinked, then turned to look out the window. “Nothing.”

“Really?” he said, drawing out the word, brow rising in mock skepticism. “That’s not the Rep I know.”

She didn’t answer.

But his smirk deepened.

And Isabelle, watching him from the corner of her eye, felt a twitch of irritation—not quite annoyance, not quite amusement. That smile of his… she didn’t know if she liked it. It was too relaxed. Too confident. Like he knew things she hadn’t told him yet.

Still, he let it slide.

“Since Rep seems a little tired,” he said, voice dipping just enough to sound almost teasing, “I’ll go easy on you today.”

He adjusted his grip on the wheel, leaned back slightly, and for once, didn’t accelerate like a daredevil testing fate.

The vehicle eased forward, smooth and steady.

And Isabelle, though she didn’t admit it aloud, felt the tension in her shoulders drop by degrees. The roads were clear. The car was warm. And Damien, for all his chaos, was—at least for tonight—driving like someone who knew she was watching.

******

Damien flicked his gaze sideways—just a glance—but enough to see her reflection in the window.

Isabelle sat with her arms loosely crossed, her head tilted slightly against the glass, eyes half-lidded in thought. Not tense. Not sulking. But… far away. Somewhere he couldn’t follow right now.

‘Not the time,’ Damien thought, drumming his fingers once against the wheel. ‘Not tonight.’

God, he wanted to. The road was open, the dash hummed with latent horsepower, and his leg practically itched to slam the throttle and feel the car surge beneath him. To let the vehicle cut through air like it didn’t answer to rules. Like he didn’t.

But—

One more glance at her, and the impulse bled away.

She wasn’t in the mood.

Not for games. Not for chaos. And definitely not for him acting like he was above the world she lived in every day.

‘She’s still processing,’ he thought. ‘What I said back there. About money. About choice.’

And he’d seen it—felt it, really—the way her posture stiffened the second he made that crack about the penalty. The way her eyes flicked downward like she was calculating the hit in her head, converting his joke into grocery lists and bus fare and all the unspoken math normal students had to do.

‘Different currencies,’ he thought. ‘Different rules.’

Damien’s knuckles flexed once around the steering wheel, the leather grip creaking softly under his fingers.

‘She wasn’t wrong to be pissed. Even if I was right.’

It wasn’t just pride for her. It was survival. Keeping her independence wasn’t a philosophy—it was a necessity. And as much as he wanted to bulldoze that logic, to yank her into his pace and say fuck the system, he knew better.

Not with her.

Not yet.

‘She needs time,’ he thought. ‘Time to decide if she can breathe in this world I come from. Time to decide if I can be someone she actually trusts in it.’

And so—for tonight—he drove slow.

Let the silence hold.

Let the hum of the road and the muted glow of the dash wrap around them like an unspoken agreement.

‘Take it slow,’ Damien thought. ‘Let her think. Let her breathe.’

He didn’t look at her again.

But he didn’t need to.

******

As the soft hum of the vehicle continued, Isabelle finally stirred, glancing up at the skyline slowly shifting from lavender to muted gray.

“You can drop me at the metro station,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “From there, I can get home.”

Damien arched a brow, glancing at her through the mirror. “I can drop you all the way back, you know.”

“I know,” she said simply, eyes still on the road ahead. “But I’m fine from the station.”

He didn’t press.

Didn’t argue.

Just took a breath and nodded once. Because he got it.

She didn’t want to owe him anything more today. Not a ride. Not more silence wrapped in luxury seats and reinforced glass. The metro was her territory. Her rules.

‘She wants to reset,’ Damien thought, easing the wheel to the right and adjusting their route. ‘Wants to step out on her own terms. Fair.’

It was 8 P.M.—not late, not early. The city was still awake. Streetlights flickered on, casting golden halos across polished steel intersections and clean pavement lines. Crowds still moved, voices still hummed. This wasn’t dangerous territory, not at this hour.

If it were later—if the skyline had bled into black and the stations started closing—he would’ve refused. No questions. No space for negotiation. But now?

Now he let her have it.

They didn’t speak for the last few minutes.

When he pulled up near the elevated platform, the station’s warm glow reflected across the hood of the car. Isabelle reached for her bag without hesitation.

“Thanks,” she said, already unbuckling.

Damien nodded once. “You’ll be okay?”

“Obviously,” she said, cracking the faintest dry smile.

And just like that, she stepped out.

Didn’t linger. Didn’t turn back.

She walked with that same posture she always had—like she was balancing a blade between her shoulder blades. Straight. Efficient. Quietly defensive.

Damien watched until she reached the entrance. Until the auto-gates registered her card and the silhouette of her form disappeared behind the glass and shifting crowds.

Then, and only then, did he exhale.

His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel.

Then—

Damien pressed the ignition. The engine purred, then growled—and when his foot nudged the throttle, the response was immediate. A sharp creak of mechanical tension followed, the chassis rocking slightly as the car surged forward with more power than finesse.

‘No gears. No clutch. Just torque on demand,’ Damien thought, eyes narrowing with approval. ‘Feels like a leash too short, but hell, it moves.’

The car peeled forward, smooth despite the aggressive launch, electric systems compensating where manual muscle would’ve once mattered.

Elysia, seated calmly beside him, didn’t blink. Her gaze remained forward, tablet dimmed now in her lap.

They cruised for half a block before Damien spoke—voice casual, but his eyes never leaving the road.

“Did anything happen while we were in there?”

Elysia tucked the tablet away neatly, sliding it into a compartment by her side without a sound.

“No,” she said evenly, her voice calm and precise. “Nothing happened while you were in there.”

Damien’s fingers tightened faintly on the steering wheel, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You sensed no one?”

“Yes, Master,” she confirmed without hesitation. “I didn’t sense anyone.”

“Hmm,” Damien murmured, gaze shifting momentarily from the road to the rearview mirror. He trusted her instincts completely. If Elysia didn’t sense a presence, it meant they had genuinely been alone—no watchers, no hidden threats.

Or at the very least, they were not showing any intents, and even someone like Elysia had her limits in any case.

Still…

His thoughts flickered to Isabelle’s subtle tension. Her independence. Her silent calculations. He didn’t entirely buy that their evening was truly free from external pressures, but maybe the pressures were all internal. Her own struggles.

Then Elysia’s voice interrupted his thoughts, carefully measured.

“However, Master Dominic has contacted you.”

Just then she dropped the words.

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