Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate - Chapter 369: Parental feelings

Chapter 369: Parental feelings

The final course had long gone cold, but Vivienne’s voice still lingered—soft, persistent, trying to peel layers off her son that he had no intention of shedding.

“So many changes,” she murmured, cradling her wine glass without drinking from it. “Even your eyes… they’re different now.”

Damien gave a noncommittal hum, more focused on swirling the remnants of his drink than unpacking her implications. She wanted answers—wanted to make sense of what Erin had done, what he had become, and more than that, what he had seen. But Damien had learned early that some truths only grew more dangerous when spoken aloud.

Vivienne’s expression dimmed as the silence stretched, but she didn’t push further. Eventually, she leaned back in her seat and exhaled.

“Well,” she said, as if trying to convince herself, “at least you’re eating again.”

The dinner ended not with ceremony, but with a quiet settling of plates and an exchange of glances that said everything and nothing at once.

As they rose from the table, Vivienne turned to him once more.

“Damien,” she said, brushing a hand against his sleeve. “You should stay here tonight.”

He paused at the foot of the stairs, one hand resting against the polished banister. The quiet thrum of the artifact in his pocket still echoed faintly against his chest.

“I’m returning to Blackthorne Villa,” he said simply.

Her brows lifted. “Already?”

“I’ve missed my maid,” he replied with a flicker of that dry, irreverent smile.

Vivienne blinked. “Your maid? Elysia?”

“Yep.”

There was a silence—short, heavy. Then Vivienne simply shook her head and gave a weary, knowing sigh.

“I see.”

But she didn’t press further.

After all, it is clear that Damien has already riled up quite a lot.

The way he carried himself now, the way silence hung heavier when he was in the room, like the very air waited for his cue to move… it was enough.

Her son needed a release of some sort. That much was clear. And while she could guess at the nature of his attachment to that cold, distant maid, she didn’t ask.

She simply stepped back, lips curving with the faintest ghost of a smile. “At least take an umbrella,” she murmured, not quite able to keep the worry from her voice.

Damien gave a light nod, already pulling on his coat as he descended the steps.

Outside, the evening chill had deepened into something sharper—wind laced with that damp scent of distant rain. The sleek black car waited at the base of the drive, engine humming low like a predator at rest.

Dominic stood beside the vehicle, posture straight as ever, arms folded behind his back. A sentinel. A father. A man with too many expectations and not enough confessions.

The moment Damien approached, Dominic moved, stepping in stride beside him.

“You’ve unsettled her,” he said plainly, eyes forward.

Damien shrugged. “She worries by nature.”

“She worries when there’s reason to.”

A pause followed. The kind of pause that wasn’t quite silence—just a hesitation filled with unspoken calculations.

“I was planning,” Dominic said after a beat, “to teach you the Elford family’s method tomorrow.”

Damien kept walking, his steps slow, measured. “I figured.”

“I’d already prepared the scrolls. Even had Owen assemble a condensed version of the visualization codex.”

That made Damien glance sideways, one brow quirking with faint amusement. “Let me guess—illustrations and all?”

Dominic didn’t smile. But his next words came quieter.

“It was meant to be a rite of passage.”

They reached the car. The door was already open, but neither entered.

Dominic turned fully now, regarding Damien not just as a son, but as a phenomenon. A disruption to everything predictable.

“But it seems you’ve already developed your own method,” he said slowly. “One that… works.”

Damien didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t wait for permission,” he said. “Didn’t need a family crest or some dead ancestor’s approval to get started.”

Dominic’s gaze flicked toward his chest—the place where that obsidian charm still pulsed faintly beneath his shirt. His expression didn’t shift, but something in his stance changed.

“You’ve already filled your core,” he said. “Circulated your mana. On your own.”

“That’s right.”

A long breath escaped Dominic’s mouth. He looked down at the gravel, as if the stones there might give him clarity. Then, with that same measured cadence he always used when stating uncomfortable truths:

“That kind of instinct doesn’t come from training. Or cleverness. Or willpower alone.”

He looked up again, eyes steely.

“It’s in your blood.”

Damien didn’t answer right away. He just stared at his father—expression cool, unreadable.

Then he stepped past him, hand on the edge of the car door.

“Maybe,” he said.

Dominic didn’t respond. But the silence he left behind said enough.

Damien ducked into the car, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. Rain started tapping at the windshield almost immediately—soft at first, then faster, like a drumroll held just for him.

The car pulled away from the Elford estate, cutting through the darkened roads that led toward the villa.

‘…It is my first time craving some warmth like this.’

Or maybe it was not the first time….

Though Damien would never admit it.

****

The door clicked shut behind Damien, the echo of it traveling like a final punctuation through the grand foyer.

The sound of the car pulling away faded into the soft murmur of the rain outside. And in its wake—silence. Heavy, expectant.

Vivienne stood still for several seconds, her gaze fixed on the entryway long after the taillights vanished down the drive. The quiet stretched until even the house seemed to hold its breath.

Then, finally, she turned.

Dominic was standing a few paces away, hands folded behind his back, expression carved in that familiar mask of restraint. The faintest flicker of lamplight traced the sharp lines of his face, making his stoicism look almost like guilt.

For a long while, neither spoke.

Vivienne broke the silence first.

“You were going to tell me everything when you returned, weren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really. The calm in her voice was too deliberate, the kind that came only when she was trying very hard not to raise it.

Dominic’s eyes shifted toward her. “That was the intention.”

She exhaled—a slow, measured sound that might’ve been a laugh in another life. “The intention.” Her heels clicked as she approached him, each step deliberate. “Dominic, when you left for the Cradle, I thought I’d gotten used to your definitions of ‘intention.’ But this?” Her tone sharpened. “No letters. No updates. No signals for days. Nothing until Mother decided to appear unannounced and nearly tear our son’s soul apart.”

His jaw tightened. “You are…”

“I am…”

“You are right. It was my fault.”

“…..Sigh…”

For a heartbeat, her eyes blazed—not with rage, but with fear resurfacing as anger. The fear she had buried for days while waiting for news that never came. To be frank, she really was about to beat Dominic up tonight, and make him sleep on the couch.

Also make him prepare breakfast for her, and some other things….

But not after what she have heard.

She drew a breath. Forced it steady. “I was going to hit you, you know,” she said after a moment, the faintest tremor of dry humor in her voice. “When you walked through those doors, I was ready to break decorum for the first time in years.”

Dominic blinked once. “And now?”

Vivienne’s expression shifted—still fierce, but quieter. More pensive. “Now…” she murmured, crossing her arms, gaze lowering to the floor for a moment. “Now I don’t know what to think.”

He said nothing. She continued.

“Damien said he saw a future,” she whispered. “Not a dream. Not a vision. A future. You heard him.”

Dominic gave a slight nod. “I did.”

Her fingers tightened against her sleeve. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?” she said softly. “The change.”

He hesitated. Then—”Yes.”

Vivienne’s eyes flicked up. “So did I. And that’s what frightens me.”

The faint hum of the storm filled the silence that followed.

She took another step closer, lowering her voice. “At first, I thought it was just growth. A boy finally taking responsibility. But it wasn’t just that. It was refinement. Discipline. A focus that shouldn’t have appeared overnight.”

Dominic’s gaze darkened, distant. “You also thought it’s unnatural.”

“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted, shaking her head. “Mother couldn’t read him. That alone is… unprecedented.”

Dominic’s lips pressed into a line. “And yet, I sensed no malice from him. No deception.”

“Neither did I.” Her tone softened then, touched with something warmer, sadder. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Whatever this is—it feels like him. Like Damien. Just… sharpened. Distilled.”

She looked up at him again, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Tell me, Dominic. When you looked at him—did you feel like you were standing in front of your son?”

Dominic’s reply came quietly, but without hesitation. “Yes.”

Vivienne closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Then isn’t that enough?”

“It is.”

For a few heartbeats, the only sound was the rain against the windows.

Then Dominic added, almost to himself, “He’s walking a path I don’t recognize.”

“Isn’t that what parenting is?”

“I guess we were lucky with Adeline.”

“We are lucky with both.”

“….Haha…that’s right.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com