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

Chapter 372: Welcome home

“Registered vehicle detected: Damien Elford.”

For a split second, everything stopped.

The faint hum of the villa’s systems. The clock’s quiet pulse. Even the steady rhythm of her own breath—halted.

Elysia’s hand froze midair, the motion to straighten her sleeve suspended like a statue caught between moments. Her thoughts emptied into static.

Then came the sound again.

Tires whispering against the smooth pavement. A door shutting.

Her heart gave one heavy, unmeasured thud.

She didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Not until her body decided for her.

One step. Then another.

The smooth shuffle of bare feet against polished marble.

She wasn’t walking—she was drawn.

It took her a moment to realize it. To notice that her posture, normally faultless and deliberate, had lost its balance. Her stride lacked that subtle precision she always maintained. Her movements felt… human.

Her mind lagged half a beat behind her body as she moved down the hall, every motion automatic. She adjusted her uniform absently—the collar, the hemline, the faint crease of her gloves—though she didn’t remember deciding to.

It was muscle memory, but deeper. Instinct, not discipline.

And through the fog of her composure, something small and startling began to bloom.

Warmth.

It spread under her ribs like light through glass, fragile and quiet and foreign. She didn’t welcome it. But she didn’t resist it either.

Her steps quickened.

Only when she reached the curve of the main foyer did her senses flare back to life—like her body suddenly remembered what it was.

Her perception swept the air in an instant, scanning mana currents, pressure shifts, temperature gradients.

Nothing escaped her.

Usually.

But this time—

She faltered.

There it was again: that blank space. That strange, inexplicable gap where a presence should have been.

He was close. She knew he was close. The AI had confirmed it. But until now—until that sound—she hadn’t felt him.

That had never happened before.

Even when he masked his aura, she could always detect the residual trace of his breath, the subtle warp of mana pressure that came with him. Damien Elford carried chaos wherever he went—it bent the air in ways even silence couldn’t hide.

And yet tonight, she hadn’t sensed him at all.

Not until now.

The realization hit her harder than it should have. Her breath caught again. Her hand pressed to her chest before she could stop it.

Something inside her had dulled. Or perhaps—something in him had changed.

She stood in front of the main door as it hissed open.

The first wave of his presence hit her—not visually, not even audibly. It was pressure.

Thick. Slow-moving. Like heat from an unseen fire.

Her lungs stilled.

She didn’t need to look. She knew.

The aura that entered the villa wasn’t the one he’d left with.

The Damien who’d walked out two days ago carried confidence like armor—sharp, precise, perfectly human in its arrogance.

The one who stood on the threshold now…

Felt other.

Alive in a way that distorted the air around him.

Mana. Raw, untempered, yet stable in a way it shouldn’t have been. The kind that twisted through reality like molten glass, settling where it wanted, not where it was told.

Her body recognized it before her mind did. Her instincts—the ones honed through years of combat, discipline, and obedience—flared all at once.

He was Awakened.

There was no mistaking it.

Every fiber of her being screamed it. The way the air shimmered faintly near him, the trace of resonance bleeding from his skin, the quiet distortion of the villa’s mana sensors trying—and failing—to normalize his presence.

He had changed. Fundamentally. Irreversibly.

And still—

he was him.

Damien stepped inside, slow and deliberate. His coat hung loose, the faint scent of burnt ozone clinging to him. His hair was slightly disheveled. There was dust at the edges of his sleeves, faint scars across his knuckles. But his eyes—

Those eyes.

Sharp. Clear.

Alive in a way they had never been before.

They caught hers across the foyer.

She didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, they simply stood there—the hum of the villa’s mana core flickering unevenly between them.

Her senses catalogued everything: his breathing pattern, the energy flow in his muscles, the faint hum of the core beneath his sternum where the Awakening’s residue still pulsed.

And beneath all of that—something else.

A weight.

A gravity that pulled at her nerves and refused to release them.

Elysia had faced Awakened before. Dozens. Hundreds. But never like this.

Not one whose mana moved like his.

Not one whose very presence bent her discipline enough that she forgot, for a heartbeat, how to breathe.

Her lips parted, though she didn’t intend to speak. Words felt unnecessary—too small for what filled the air between them.

Still, something escaped anyway. A whisper.

“…Master?”

Damien’s eyes softened—not much, just enough to draw the faintest, tired smirk to his lips.

“Yeah.” His voice was rougher than she remembered. Quieter. Older. “It’s me.”

Damien didn’t move.

He stood just inside the doorway, the faint glow from the corridor catching the edges of his face. The air between them felt alive—trembling with something too heavy to name. His blue eyes met hers, unblinking, quiet, but far from calm.

There was a new depth there. A stillness that didn’t belong to him.

Elysia could feel it before she understood it—something beneath the surface of his gaze, something vast and unspeakable. It wasn’t the arrogance that once laced his every word, nor the playful sharpness that often made her falter. This was colder. Older. Like he’d looked at something impossible and returned carrying its echo.

Her pulse quickened despite herself.

His tone when he spoke again—light, effortless—carried the same edge. It was still Damien. Still her master. And yet, every syllable seemed to hum with power he hadn’t possessed before, as though the air bent slightly to make room for his voice.

Elysia felt the difference instantly. Every trained instinct inside her, every reflex honed by years of discipline, whispered the same truth: he wasn’t the same man who had left this house.

Her breath hitched, just enough for her to feel it.

She stepped forward before she could think. One smooth, practiced motion—gloved hands rising to undo the clasp at his collar. The gesture should have been automatic, part of her nightly duties, but her fingers hesitated for a heartbeat before touching the fabric. The coat was warm. Too warm, as if it had absorbed the residue of the mana still thrumming through his veins.

Her voice came out quiet. Controlled. But softer than she intended.

“Congratulations, Master…” she murmured, lowering her gaze slightly as she slid the coat from his shoulders. “For your successful Awakening.”

The coat slipped free in her hands, weightless and heavy all at once. The faint scent of ozone clung to it. It was the smell of battlefields and storms and mana gone wild—something primal that didn’t belong in a home.

Damien’s eyes followed her movement.

And then he smiled. Not wide. Not even bright. Just a small, human thing—an acknowledgment that reached his eyes but didn’t quite soften them.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

But then….

SWOOSH!

Damien’s hand moved.

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