Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate - Chapter 365: Thoughts

Chapter 365: Thoughts

‘I guess I was right…’

Damien’s fingers stilled around the stem of his cup, the faintest vibration running through the glass before he released it. The smirk lingered—but behind it, the bitterness was starting to pool.

‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.’

He hadn’t wanted to play this card. Not now. Not like this. Especially not in front of them.

He had planned everything else—Cradle, the Academy, the small calculated displays of competence—but not this. The “future” lie had been a last resort, something to hold in his back pocket for the day he truly needed it. And yet, when Erin Valeheart—the Black Seer herself—had stared into his soul with those eyes, cornering him, he hadn’t had a choice.

If he had stayed silent, she would have kept digging.

And if she had kept digging…

He exhaled slowly, the thought heavy.

‘She would’ve found it. The fracture.’

That tiny seam in his existence. The point where he ended and Damien Elford began. The wound that marked him as something that shouldn’t exist.

The only reason she hadn’t seen it—the only reason he was still sitting here now instead of being sealed in some soul-bind chamber under Council custody—was because she couldn’t.

Her Mystery couldn’t pierce him.

It was a quirk of his arrival here. A strange, almost paradoxical blessing that even the system couldn’t fully explain. The fragments of its diagnostic logs had called it a “dimensional anomaly”—a rare interference caused by overlapping soul signatures. Whatever it was, it shielded him. Made him unreadable, untraceable to powers that operated on the spiritual layer.

That was the reason Erin Valeheart, who could unravel kings with a look, had hesitated.

That was the reason she’d doubted instead of judged.

It was his one advantage.

A privilege born from the very wrongness of his existence.

‘If not for that,’ Damien thought, eyes flicking toward Erin, ‘I’d be a corpse right now—or worse, a lab subject under her precious Council’s seal.’

And that was the truth. The partial truth.

Enough to make him clench his jaw, to hide the tiny flare of frustration that bubbled under the calm.

Because this lie—the “I saw a future” lie—wasn’t supposed to see daylight.

It was too convenient. Too dangerous. It would haunt every achievement from here on. Every success he earned, every victory he fought for, would be dismissed as the product of prophecy. Not will.

And yet…

He couldn’t deny it had worked.

The edge of his lip twitched upward again.

Now, Erin Valeheart—the Black Seer herself—had accepted his words. Tentatively, perhaps, but accepted. That single moment of recognition, of her mana easing, of her smile returning—that was worth more than any argument he could make.

And with that, the rest of the board had fallen neatly into place.

Vivienne’s doubts would vanish first. She was his mother before she was a politician; her faith would cling to Erin’s acknowledgment like a drowning woman to driftwood.

Dominic, pragmatic and proud, would follow. Not because of belief—but because Erin’s word was a voucher stronger than any evidence he could provide.

If the Black Seer said he was still her grandson, then the rest of the Dominion would have to agree.

Damien leaned back in his chair slightly, the faintest chuckle slipping past his lips.

‘Complicated,’ he thought. ‘But useful.’

His life just became both harder and easier at once. Harder, because he would now have to live under the illusion of “the boy who saw the future.” Every word he said would be weighed, every silence interpreted. But easier, because no one would dare question him again—not after this.

Not after she vouched for him.

He watched his grandmother lift her glass across the table, speaking softly to Vivienne as the conversation around them finally began to flow again.

‘A future-seer, huh…’ he mused, his smirk fading into something closer to a grin.

That wasn’t a complete lie.

Damien could live with lying—it came easy to him now—but this one sat differently. It was partly true.

After all, he did know the future.

At least, pieces of it. Enough to predict, to plan, to tilt the board before anyone else even saw the pieces move.

He had seen the outlines of what was coming—wars, betrayals, awakenings, the rise and fall of names that hadn’t yet been spoken in this world. It wasn’t omniscience. Not prophecy. But it was enough. Enough to fake a glimpse of fate and make even the Black Seer pause.

That was why this lie worked so well. Because it wasn’t entirely false.

Still, he knew better than to think Erin Valeheart would just accept it. Her smile, her calm, her decision to end the confrontation—they weren’t surrender. They were the silence of a woman who had decided to watch.

‘She’s not done,’ Damien thought, his eyes shifting subtly toward her. ‘She just pulled back to see what I’ll do next.’

And that made sense. If their positions were reversed, he’d do the same. Because someone claiming to have seen the future was not just something to easily believe in, dangerous to kill outright and too valuable to ignore.

Which meant—for now—he’d have to prove himself.

He didn’t need to convince her completely, just enough. Enough to make the idea of him seeing a future plausible. Enough to make her hesitate again before she ever tried peering into his soul.

If he didn’t have that sliver of protection—if he didn’t have the “prophecy” narrative—eventually, her suspicion would return. And the next time she looked too deeply, she might find something that would make him meet his end.

That would be the end.

He leaned slightly back in his chair, schooling his expression as another servant refilled his glass.

‘For now, I have time,’ he thought. ‘I just need to prove what she already wants to believe. That I saw something.’

And luckily, he did know a few things worth proving.

Because this world would follow the game’s path eventually—at least for a while. And that meant its future was written, even if no one else could read it.

He could turn that knowledge into miracles. Prophecies. Warnings. Whatever suited the narrative best.

It was a dangerous game, but one he could play better than anyone.

He was still turning those thoughts over when Erin’s voice cut softly through the low murmur of the table.

“It must have been hard,” she said, setting her glass down with care. “Being within the Cradle like that.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a deduction—measured, careful, deliberate. The sort of statement that extended an olive branch without losing authority.

Damien met her eyes for a heartbeat, reading what sat behind them. There was no hostility now, no testing glare. Only analysis. Curiosity wrapped in warmth. A rare mix, for her.

He nodded once. “It was… difficult,” he said, his tone neutral, a weight behind the simplicity that made the table fall quiet again.

Vivienne leaned forward slightly, her eyes soft, hopeful. “Tell us, then,” she said. “What was it like inside?”

————A/N————

I was initially not planning to do this, but then, looking at how Damien had received some how his abilities, like Neural Predator, which was related to his eyes and senses, I felt like there should be something in his bloodline that was related to this power.

That is why I went with Vivienne’s bloodline, the Valeheart family, to have such power. But at the same time, it would be inconsistent with the setting and how Damien was acting.

To preserve it, this was the only way that I could think of.

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