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

Chapter 240: Awakening Approved (2)

Dominic’s gaze lingered on Damien for a few more seconds, then drifted outward, toward the ripples in the room.

Or rather—the absence of them.

Nothing stirred anymore.

No pulses.

No leaking tension.

No atmospheric warping around Damien’s presence.

The silence was just… silence now. Still, clean.

Controlled.

Dominic exhaled slowly, then gave a final nod, more to himself than anyone else.

“…It’s gone.”

Damien glanced over, brow raised.

“Your bloodlust,” Dominic clarified. “You’ve sealed it.”

He stepped once around Damien again, noting the faint shimmer in the ambient graph. Flat. Even. No anomaly spikes.

“No fluctuations. No leaks. No pressure drag.”

He turned fully toward his son.

“You’ve finished the first stage.”

Damien didn’t respond right away. Just rolled one shoulder back, relaxed. Like it was already natural.

Dominic reached out to the nearby console and deactivated the chamber’s pressure field. The low hum dissipated into silence, and the gravity calibration dropped to default.

“We’re done here.”

He stepped toward the far door, the lights along the walls dimming as the training module entered its cooldown cycle.

Damien followed, calm, precise.

Side by side now, their footsteps echoed evenly.

Dominic didn’t speak for a while—not until they reached the edge of the hall that led back toward the estate’s main levels. His voice came low, practical.

“You’re ready,” he said. “More than ready.”

Then he glanced over.

“I’ll put in the application for the Cradle tonight. We’ll have it assembled and stabilized within the week.”

Damien’s smirk returned—not sharp, not arrogant. Just a quiet, approving curl of his lips.

“I’ll leave it up to you.”

Dominic looked at him.

And for the first time in years, the nod he gave wasn’t one of command.

It was one of trust.

****

As Damien stepped through the outer hall, the air cooler now outside the pressurized chamber, his pace slowed. The corridor was quiet, save for the soft click of polished heels against marble behind one of the pillars.

He stopped.

And then—

“Damien.”

The voice came soft, but unmistakable. Smooth, warm, and wrapped in velvet steel.

Vivienne.

He turned—just in time to see her stepping from the far corridor, wrapped in a dusk-blue shawl draped over her shoulders, her emerald eyes gleaming with something caught between reproach and relief.

“You came all the way here,” she said, tone mild but clearly disapproving, “and didn’t even tell me?”

Damien’s brows lifted slightly, offering the faintest shrug. “It developed suddenly.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes.

“Convenient.”

Dominic, who had stepped up just behind Damien, cleared his throat subtly. “I called him.”

Vivienne’s gaze flicked between the two men. “Oh? Into the depths of the estate’s training fields? Without notice?”

Damien kept his expression steady, but Dominic smoothly interjected.

“I wanted to see if he was ready,” Dominic said simply, “for the Cradle.”

Vivienne paused.

“…Ah.”

There it was—that subtle shift in her face. Not suspicion, exactly. But curiosity restrained by trust. She looked at Damien again, more closely this time, as if searching for residual signs of whatever had happened down there.

“I see,” she murmured. “And?”

Dominic gave a short nod. “He passed.”

Vivienne’s lips pressed together—half a smile, half a line of concern. “Of course he did.”

She stepped closer, reaching up with one hand to brush a lock of Damien’s hair aside, letting her palm rest briefly against his cheek.

“You’ve grown too fast,” she whispered, more to herself than him. “But… perhaps that’s the only way left for you now.”

Vivienne’s hand lingered on Damien’s cheek a moment longer.

Her fingers were warm—gentle, but heavy with thought.

The quiet between them wasn’t empty. It was laced with something deeper, more reluctant.

The weight of inevitability.

“…If he’s ready,” she murmured again, her gaze shifting slightly toward Dominic, “then it means the Cradle is close.”

Dominic gave a subtle nod.

Vivienne didn’t argue.

Didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t plead.

She simply exhaled.

Long. Slow. Controlled.

As if she were folding all the fear she wasn’t allowed to show into that single sigh.

Then—abruptly, she balled her hand into a soft fist and gave Damien a light punch on the cheek.

Not hard.

Not playful, either.

Just enough to remind him that while she couldn’t stop him anymore… she was still his mother.

“Hmph,” she muttered, stepping back. “Stubborn like your father. Headstrong like me. A dangerous mix.”

Damien’s smile twitched.

She crossed her arms. “Did you eat?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Dinner,” she said firmly. “I was just about to sit down. You’ll join me.”

Damien hesitated, offering a small shrug. “I’d love to, but I… have some things to take care of.”

A mistake.

The moment the words left his mouth, her expression sharpened—just a little.

Not angry.

But… narrowed.

Like a hawk waiting to see which way the wind would shift.

Damien saw it.

Felt it.

And sighed.

“…Alright,” he relented. “Just for a bit.”

Vivienne’s eyes brightened, triumphant without ever cracking a grin.

“Good,” she said. “You can tell me about these things you need to take care of. While we eat.”

Dominic glanced sideways at his wife, watching the exchange with the smallest lift of his brow.

Vivienne caught the look and returned it with a perfectly arched one of her own.

Silent.

Smug.

Damien just sighed again, letting himself be gently steered back down the corridor by the only force he could never quite push against.

Maternal gravity.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

******

The dining room of the Elford estate was awash in soft golden light, the long table laid with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and a modest but elegant spread of roasted seabass, herb-glazed vegetables, and warm bread brushed with infused mana butter.

It was a quiet meal at first—almost too quiet.

Vivienne sat at the head of the table, fingers laced beneath her chin as she watched her children. Dominic, across from her, methodically sliced into his food. Damien, seated beside him, looked calm—calmer than he had any right to be. Adeline, opposite Damien, wore that particular expression she reserved only for moments she was deeply enjoying herself but wouldn’t admit it.

She didn’t hold the silence long.

“So,” Adeline said lightly, forking a bit of salmon. “When should we announce your new venture, brother? Or are you planning to reveal your billion-Draxen miracle on the final day?”

Vivienne’s hand paused above her wine glass.

Her gaze shifted—first to Adeline, then slowly, slowly to Damien.

“…I beg your pardon?”

Adeline didn’t even flinch. “Oh, didn’t he tell you?” she said sweetly. “Damien has decided to start his own business. With a hundred million in founding capital. And if he manages to grow it to a billion by this time next year… I acknowledge his success.”

Vivienne turned to Dominic. “You sanctioned this?”

Dominic didn’t stop cutting his fish. “It was either that or let them tear each other apart in my study.”

Vivienne turned back to Damien, slowly, and spoke with quiet disbelief.

“You made a bet… to grow your capital tenfold in one year?”

Damien looked up at her, completely unfazed.

“Yes.”

Silence followed—still, pressing.

Then—

Vivienne laughed once.

Dry. Short.

“This is absurd.”

She set her glass down with a faint click.

“Do you know how many companies would kill for a twenty percent return in a fiscal year? And you plan to grow your seed capital ten times in twelve months? That’s not ambition, Damien. That’s—”

“—nonsense?” Adeline offered, grinning into her wine.

Vivienne gave her a sharp look, then sighed again and faced Damien. Her tone softened, but only slightly.

“This isn’t some training arc in a storybook. This is real. Markets move slowly. Sectors collapse without warning. Even we can’t brute-force tenfold growth on new ventures, and we have an entire network.”

Damien didn’t argue.

He calmly took a sip of water, then looked up and said, “That’s true.”

Vivienne blinked. “Then why—?”

“You will see, mother, you will see.”

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