Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 98: Class, but with Damien (2)

Damien turned his head lazily, his sharp blue eyes settling on Victoria as if she were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Unbothered. Unimpressed.

And that was what made it worse.

She wanted a reaction—some flash of irritation, some sign that her words had landed. But all she got was that same smirk, that same detached amusement that made her feel as if she were the one being mocked.

He exhaled softly, tilting his head.

"Victoria," he drawled, as if only just now acknowledging her existence. "You’re still talking?"

A quiet snicker rippled through the class.

Victoria’s eyes twitched, but Damien continued before she could lash out.

"Your concern for my capabilities is touching, really," he said, his voice smooth with an edge of mockery. "But tell me—" He leaned slightly forward, his smirk widening. "Do you actually care about my academic performance, or are you just looking for an excuse to say my name?"

The class erupted in low laughter, a few students covering their mouths, exchanging amused glances.

Victoria’s face darkened instantly, her lips parting in disbelief. "What—"

Damien waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t get me wrong. It’s flattering, really. But if you’re still bitter about last time, just say so."

Victoria clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her arms as she fought for a comeback.

Damien’s smirk deepened, his amusement growing as he watched Victoria struggle to contain her irritation.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised a finger—pointing directly at her face.

"See…" he mused, his voice rich with amusement. "That’s exactly why I called you that."

Victoria’s brow twitched. "Called me what?"

He tilted his head slightly, letting the moment stretch before finally answering.

"Your face," he said, his smirk widening. "It’s fucking funny."

A collective gasp rippled through the room, followed by a fresh wave of poorly contained laughter. Some students turned away, hiding their grins behind their hands. Others simply stared, watching in morbid fascination as the scene unfolded.

Victoria’s face twisted in pure outrage. "What did you just say?!"

Damien chuckled. "Come on, don’t act surprised. I already said it once before, didn’t I?" His fingers tapped lazily against the desk as he leaned back. "How can I not make a remark about it?"

Victoria’s hands curled into fists, her body practically trembling with fury.

This was exactly what she had hated about him the most. Not just the insults—anyone could throw words at her.

It was the way he said them.

Like she wasn’t even worth taking seriously. Like she was some spectacle put on display solely for his entertainment.

It burned.

"Why you—!"

Before she could snap, Ms. Everstead’s voice cut through the rising tension.

"Enough, both of you."

Though her tone was composed, there was no room for argument. The amusement in the class died down instantly, replaced by silence.

Victoria, seething, looked like she wanted to argue, but she knew better than to test their teacher’s patience. With a sharp exhale, she whipped her head away, fixing her gaze firmly on her desk.

Damien, however, simply chuckled under his breath.

Unbothered.

Victoria’s reaction had been far too satisfying to regret.

Ms. Everstead exhaled softly, clearly unimpressed with the distraction Victoria and Damien had caused. But she was a professional, and she wasn’t about to let childish arguments derail her class.

"Now that we’ve wasted enough time," she said, her voice regaining its usual crispness, "let’s begin the lesson."

The sound of pages turning filled the room as students pulled out their textbooks. The tension from earlier hadn’t fully faded, but with the teacher moving forward, most of the class reluctantly followed suit.

Most of them.

Damien had just leaned back in his chair when he felt a sharp gaze burning into the side of his face.

"Damien…"

His smirk barely wavered as he lazily turned his head.

"Hmm?"

Moren was glaring at him. His usual half-lidded, uninterested expression was gone, replaced with something tighter. Irritated.

Damien, of course, knew what was coming.

And that was exactly why he acted like he didn’t.

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Moren’s fingers curled slightly against the desk, his voice low. "You went too far."

Damien’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it widened.

’Ah… Look at this fool.’

A simp was nothing more than a dog.

A creature that waved its tail in front of its master, eager for approval, desperate for acknowledgment.

And who was this fucker’s master?

Victoria.

Of course, he wouldn’t stay silent. Not after watching his precious master get insulted.

But that was exactly the point.

Damien exhaled softly, tilting his head slightly as he stared at Moren, his smirk sharp.

"I did what I fucking wanted." His voice was low, steady. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Moren’s glare intensified. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond immediately.

Because what could he say?

Contrary to real dogs—beasts with strength, with drive, with the necessary ferocity to protect their master—fuckers like this were nothing but weak, sniveling lapdogs.

Barking only when they thought they had permission.

And right now?

Moren was nothing more than an obedient little pet, desperately trying to defend a master who wouldn’t even spare him a glance.

Damien leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly.

’How pathetic.’

Moren’s glare remained locked onto Damien, his frustration evident in the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

But he hesitated.

Because even in his irritation, he knew they weren’t alone.

Ms. Everstead’s sharp eyes flickered toward them, a silent warning in her gaze.

Moren clicked his tongue, exhaling sharply through his nose before reluctantly turning back to face the front.

Pathetic.

Damien chuckled under his breath, watching as Moren swallowed his anger and obediently resumed pretending to be a student.

Just like that, the class moved on.

Ms. Everstead, ever the professional, resumed her lecture, her voice filling the room as she began writing equations on the board.

Numbers. Variables. Concepts.

Damien barely listened.

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk, his sharp eyes drifting lazily over the notes forming on the board.

And then, just as smoothly as ever—

He lowered his head onto the desk.

And slept.

Because that’s what the old Damien always did, wasn’t it?

And mostly, he was really tired.

After all, he had trained until late night yesterday, and he only slept for 3 hours.

******

Damien drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, the soft hum of the classroom fading into the background like white noise.

Distantly, he heard something.

A voice.

"—ien…"

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t stir.

Then came the touch.

Slender, but firm.

Not a gentle shake. Not hesitant.

There was force behind it.

"Damien Elford."

His eyes cracked open, the world slowly coming back into focus.

The first thing he saw—

Brown eyes.

Locked onto his.

Cool. Unwavering.

Isabelle Moreau stood before him, her gaze sharp as ever, her presence somehow both composed and pressing.

"Come with me."

Damien blinked, his mind catching up to the situation.

The classroom was still active, though apparently the students are standing.

"Hmm…"

Damien blinked again, his mind finally piecing things together.

The classroom was no longer seated. The students were standing, stretching, some already moving toward the door.

’Ah… break time, huh?’

His eyes flicked toward Ms. Everstead, who was calmly gathering her materials at the front of the class. The clock on the wall confirmed it—he hadn’t just slept through one lecture.

But two.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

’Well, that’s impressive, even for me.’

Miss Everstead, now finished packing her books, gave him the briefest glance before walking out without a word.

Unbothered.

It wasn’t surprising—she had seen him sleep through class countless times before. There was no point in reprimanding a student who had already been written off as a lost cause.

But Isabelle?

She was not so indifferent.

Her gaze remained locked onto him, her posture straight, her presence unwavering.

"Come with me," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Damien stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders before finally pushing himself up from his seat.

He could already feel the stares from a few curious students lingering on them.

But really, that only made this more amusing.

With an easy smirk, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, stepping forward. "Let’s see what’s so important that you had to drag me out of my nap."

And with that, he followed her out.