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

Capítulo 342: Buddies

“You were lucky you survived.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “You say that like you had it easier.”

Kael barked a short laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. “Me? Hell no. My old man ran me through the Crucible Trials before I was twelve. You know how many failed that year?”

“All of them,” Dominic said, deadpan.

“Exactly. Which made it worse.” Kael drained the rest of his glass. “He said it would ‘build contrast.’ So I’d learn to spot strength by knowing the exact sound of its absence.”

Dominic raised a brow. “That’s poetic.”

“It’s trauma.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward—it was layered. Shared.

They both came from dynasties that forged monsters instead of sons. And yet, here they were—holding drinks instead of weapons, talking not about power, but about a kid who might just surpass them both.

Kael leaned forward again, resting both arms on his knees, gaze now fixed.

Kael’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“So,” he said, swirling the glass slowly in his hand, “does the old man know?”

Dominic didn’t answer at first.

Then, without looking up, he replied, “He’s still in seclusion.”

Kael blinked. “Still?”

Dominic gave a small nod. “Hasn’t stepped out in over a year.”

“Huh.” Kael leaned back. “That long?”

“Yeah.”

A brief silence passed.

Kael tilted his head. “Then he’s cooking something.”

Dominic’s fingers drummed once against the side of the glass. “Probably.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

“So,” Kael said, turning toward him again, “he doesn’t know?”

“No,” Dominic confirmed. “Not yet.”

Kael exhaled, shaking his head faintly. “That’s wild. Damien Awakens through the Cradle, comes out breathing like a Second Tier veteran, and the family seat’s just… off meditating in a sealed vault.”

Dominic didn’t respond.

Kael lifted the glass halfway to his lips, then paused.

“His grandmother?”

That got a reaction.

Dominic nodded once. Not slow. Not reluctant.

Decided.

“If not for her,” he said, “this wouldn’t have been allowed.”

Kael’s brow rose slightly. “She pushed for it?”

“She didn’t need to push,” Dominic said. “She just said what she saw. And Vivienne listened.”

Kael’s mouth ticked. “Of course she did.”

He leaned back into the cushions, watching the refracted light play across the window like waves.

“So she already knew.”

“Yes.”

“I guess that was to be expected.”

Dominic didn’t argue.

Some truths didn’t need repeating.

Because if she had spoken… then this wasn’t just potential.

It was inevitability.

Kael’s gaze didn’t leave the mana-curved twilight on the window. It shimmered, distorted faintly by their presence—but couldn’t quite decide what mood it wanted to reflect. A metaphor, maybe.

He took another sip, slower this time. Let it sit.

Then:

“So what’s he planning now?”

Dominic didn’t answer immediately. His silence didn’t read as hesitation—just calculation. The kind of pause that came from thinking ten steps ahead while still holding the weight of the first.

Kael spoke again. “The kid’s awakened. Survived the Cradle. That alone’s a statement. One way or another, that secret’s going to bleed into the open.”

Dominic’s jaw flexed.

Kael continued. “You and I both know how many eyes are watching your family. The Elford name alone carries a shadow thick enough to choke the curious. But this?” He lifted his glass and gestured vaguely. “This is different. This is leverage. For you. For the Council. For your enemies.”

Dominic downed the last of his drink, then set the glass on the side table with finality.

“He’s not ready yet.”

Kael’s brow twitched. “Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s the problem.”

They went quiet again. But this time it was a different kind of silence. The kind that braced for something.

Kael shifted his weight slightly. “You think the old man will make a move when he comes out?”

“I don’t know.”

Kael gave a low, short exhale. “Bullshit.”

Dominic’s eyes met his, firm. “I don’t.”

“…He let Damien go into the Cradle.”

“No,” Dominic corrected. “He let her send him.”

Kael clicked his tongue against his teeth. “And she always plays for the long game.”

“She doesn’t play.”

There was something sharper in Dominic’s voice now. Not defensiveness. Not reverence.

Just fact.

Kael leaned back, expression unreadable. “Right.”

A long breath passed between them.

Then Kael chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

“Damn it. So the kid survives the Cradle, and high likely is able to feel the Origin Pulse like it’s filtered air, awakens with a core type neither of us can read, and now you’ve got a Council faction just waiting to pounce the second this gets out.” His voice thinned. “How messy do you think this’ll get?”

Dominic let the silence stretch, shoulders squared, fingers drumming lightly against the table. Then, finally, he said,

“As long as Damien is careful enough…”

He glanced sideways, locking eyes with Kael.

“…and as long as you’re careful enough too, not many people will learn the truth.”

Kael gave him a look—flat, but not offended. “I am careful.”

Dominic didn’t flinch. “You’re loud.”

“I’m deliberate.”

“You’re still loud.”

Kael gave a dry smirk and swirled the bottom of his empty glass. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do. And with that woman on your side,” Dominic added, “things will stay quiet. For a while.”

Kael’s brow twitched. “You mean Sael?”

Dominic didn’t confirm, but he didn’t need to.

“I can see that,” he continued. “But you also said it yourself. There are already eyes watching the family. Elford blood carries attention whether it wants it or not.”

Kael gave a slow nod. “Mm. And too many shadows ready to call it prophecy the second something interesting stirs.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s no use worrying about it now,” Kael said, relaxing back against the cushion again. “Not unless you’re planning to lock him in a vault.”

“There’s no vault that would hold him anymore,” Dominic said plainly.

“Right.” Kael grinned faintly. “And no cage that wouldn’t offend him.”

Another silence. This one calmer. Resigned.

And then—without warning—Kael leaned over to the side table, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a small, matte-black sphere. His grin sharpened.

Dominic’s brows furrowed. “What’s that?”

Kael didn’t answer. He just pressed his thumb to the top and rotated it once.

The room dimmed instantly. A low hum resonated from the floor. Then—

Beep.

Bloop.

Chime.

The unmistakable sounds of an old game interface flickered to life as a curved projection snapped up above the sphere—faintly glowing, filled with neon lines, blinking characters, and the slow, familiar warble of menu music from a system two decades obsolete.

Kael smirked. “Now that we’ve got some time… how about reminiscing?”

Dominic’s face didn’t move. “You’re not serious.”

“Deadly.” Kael leaned forward and dragged one of the chairs closer with his foot. “System’s been updated with hard mods. And I still remember your weak points.”

Dominic looked at the interface. Then at the sphere. Then at Kael.

“…You still haven’t had enough of getting beaten.”

Kael let out a short laugh. “Your memory must be fuzzy. You’re the one who cried when I wiped your full save data.”

“That was sabotage.”

“That was strategy.”

“You unplugged the core crystal while I was mid-boss.”

Kael shrugged, unapologetic. “A win’s a win.”

Dominic gave a long exhale, stood up, and walked over. “Fine.”

Kael passed him one of the old-model interface gloves. “But no whining this time.”

“No cheating.”

“No promises.”

The game menu lit fully, and the room filled with the low hum of a battlefield loading screen.

For just a moment—just the width of a breath—it felt like nothing had changed.

Just two monsters, trained by bigger monsters, pretending they’d ever been normal.