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

Chapter 373: Are you ready ~ ?

SWOOSH!

Damien’s hand moved.

Not abruptly—just smoothly enough that her mind noticed before her body did.

Elysia saw it coming. She should have reacted. Every fiber of her conditioning, every trained reflex, told her to shift, to step back, to deflect. Her senses caught the faint displacement of air as his arm lifted, the subtle shift in pressure that always came a breath before contact.

And yet—

she didn’t move.

Because she couldn’t.

Her thoughts lagged behind the motion. She registered the blur, the weight of his presence flickering across her perception like a ripple in still water. The distance between them vanished faster than her eyes could process.

‘…Faster…..’

Her pupils dilated. The word echoed through her head before she even realized she’d thought it.

‘Way faster…’

This wasn’t A-rank speed. It wasn’t even the heightened flow of an ordinary Awakened. This was something else—sharper, cleaner…..

In one fluid motion, his fingers brushed against her wrist. Then closed.

Not roughly. Just enough to command.

Her body obeyed instantly, not from weakness, but because the act itself—being touched by him like that—was disarming in ways no battle had ever been.

Her breath caught. The coat in her hands slipped.

The soft whuff of fabric hitting the marble floor filled the silence. Neither of them looked down.

Damien guided her with that same impossible precision, his grip firm but measured. A pull, a shift—barely any force behind it, but irresistible all the same.

And Elysia—Elysia allowed it.

She didn’t resist, didn’t counter, didn’t even think to. Her training screamed against the stillness, but her body didn’t listen.

In a blink, she found herself turned—her back now to him, his hand still resting against her wrist, their proximity close enough that the faint hum of his mana brushed against her skin like static.

The warmth of it wasn’t oppressive. It was alive.

She could feel it. The resonance, the unrefined pulse that rolled off him in subtle, rhythmic waves. It wasn’t controlled yet—not fully—but it was contained. That, more than anything, unsettled her.

Because no newly Awakened should’ve been this composed.

No one should’ve been this stable.

Her body knew before her mind did.

No freshly Awakened should’ve had access like that—not to their speed, not to that kind of mana articulation. It should’ve taken cycles. Refinement. Time. There were stages, calibrations, moments of imbalance between raw power and bodily tolerance, but Damien… Damien moved like he’d always had it. Like the Cradle hadn’t awakened him—it had remembered him.

And just as her breath caught in that thought—he looked at her.

“Did you miss me?”

The words landed softly. No dramatics. No teasing lilt. But the look that came with them—those eyes—stripped her clean. Not the cold blue they used to be, arrogant and boyish. These burned hotter. Steadier. Desire, plain and unmasked, rippled through their gaze. It didn’t demand an answer.

But it saw one.

Elysia froze. She felt it, viscerally, the way her chest tightened, how her tongue felt thick behind her teeth. There were words in her throat—too many—but none of them knew how to become sound. Her mind rebelled, trained for silence. For restraint. And now it collapsed into static.

She should answer. Should kneel. Should reset the boundary that had always been there.

But her eyes—

Her eyes stayed locked on his.

“…”

And that was all.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Her body betrayed her first—just a slight shift forward, like gravity had changed its direction. Like she was no longer the center of her own balance.

Damien saw it.

And his lips curved.

“Because I did,” he said, voice low. And then he closed the distance.

The kiss wasn’t a question.

It was a claim.

Heat exploded the moment his mouth touched hers—no hesitation, no ceremony. His hand still held her wrist, but it was his mouth that shattered her. It wasn’t the technique. It was the weight. The hunger beneath it. His lips crushed hers with a purpose she hadn’t prepared for, and yet she met it—unthinking, automatic—her own mouth parting on instinct.

“Nnh…”

The sound spilled from her throat the second his tongue traced hers. Her knees softened. Her breath left her in stuttering bursts as he deepened the kiss, hot and all-consuming. One hand still at her wrist. The other slid—slow and possessive—up the curve of her side, gloved fingers trailing fire along her waist, grazing the bare skin just beneath the hem of her uniform top.

She gasped.

He didn’t stop.

His mouth moved with practiced hunger—rougher now, like he couldn’t hold himself back. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth, tongue pressing deep, coaxing hers into motion. And when she finally responded—truly responded—he groaned.

Not loudly.

But low. Deep.

His body shifted, pressing closer—his chest flush against hers, the hum of his mana now a pulse radiating through their joined forms. It wrapped around her like a second skin, thick and volatile, but stable—too stable.

And still—his kiss dominated her.

“Ahh…!” Her voice slipped out, breathless, almost soundless, between lips that could barely stay parted long enough to speak.

He drank it.

Like it was what he’d come home for.

Elysia’s hands had long since stopped obeying orders. One lifted to his shoulder—soft at first, then gripping, clutching at the fabric like she was falling. The other hung limp between them until he moved again—his hand sliding down to catch it, guiding her palm flat against his chest.

She felt it.

His heartbeat.

Hard. Fast.

And utterly in control.

He was pressing her backward now—slowly, but firmly—until her spine touched the cool edge of the wall behind her. Her breath hitched. He didn’t stop. His mouth claimed hers again, slanted deeper, tongue pushing past any semblance of restraint. She tasted the storm in him—electric, ozone-tinged, bitter with mana and rich with something feral underneath.

And when he pulled back—

Just an inch.

Just long enough for air.

His lips brushed hers once more, softer now, letting her breathe before stealing it again with a whisper.

“I really missed this…”

Damien’s voice came low against her lips, rough with restraint, thick with something darker—something he’d kept locked behind those calm eyes for far too long.

His hand slid lower.

Not rushed. Not fumbling. Just down. Past the slope of her ribs, over the tight curve of her waist, until his palm flattened possessively at the top of her hip, warm even through the fabric.

And then—

His mouth left hers.

Not fully. Just a drift. A kiss to the edge. Then lower. His tongue traced the line of her cheekbone, slow and deliberate, humid and unrelenting, like he wanted to mark every inch of her. The wet trail shimmered in the low light, a contrast to her flushed skin.

Elysia twitched. The sensation was unbearable. Not because it hurt—because it didn’t. It burned.

“…You see, my dear maid…” Damien murmured into her skin.

And then—he bit.

Her ear.

Sharp teeth grazed the edge before closing—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to claim. Enough to jolt her straight through the spine.

“Ah—!”

It slipped out, reflexive. Shameful. Real.

She tried to suppress it. Failed. Her whole body flinched—hips jerking subtly forward into his grip as her shoulder hit the wall harder than she intended.

And he laughed.

Not mockingly. But like her reaction pleased him deeply.

“I’m going to vent on you tonight,” Damien whispered, breath curling into her neck. “Pour everything.”

The words hit like a spell.

No gentleness. No negotiation. Just truth.

Raw.

“Are you ready?”

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