Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 106: What?

The heavy click of dress shoes against polished floors signaled the arrival of Professor Reynard, the academy's esteemed chemistry instructor.

Tall, lean, and perpetually sharp-eyed, Professor Reynard had a reputation for being one of the more demanding teachers at Vermillion. He wasn't the type to tolerate laziness, nor was he one to let students coast by on status alone. He valued intelligence, effort, and above all else, the ability to think under pressure.

"Good morning, class," he began, setting his materials on the podium with practiced ease. "I trust you've all come prepared."

A faint ripple of tension passed through the room.

Professor Reynard had a habit of calling on students without warning.

And just as expected, he wasted no time.

"Let's begin with a fundamental concept," he said, pacing slowly. His sharp gaze swept across the classroom, lingering just long enough on certain students to make them straighten in their seats. "Chemical equilibrium. Can anyone explain, in their own words, Le Chatelier's principle?"

A brief silence settled over the class, students exchanging wary glances.

Victoria, however, wasn't paying attention to them.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of him.

Damien Elford.

Head resting against his palm, eyes shut, completely unbothered.

Sleeping.

Her fingers curled slightly around her pen.

'Heh…'

Her irritation deepened.

How could he be this indifferent? After everything?

First, he humiliated Celia in front of everyone. Then, he humiliated her.

And he hadn't even cared.

She still remembered that moment with agonizing clarity. The way the class had laughed under their breaths. The way her face had burned. The way Damien had looked at her—mocking, amused, like she wasn't even worth taking seriously.

That memory still festered inside her, an unresolved wound.

And here he was. Sleeping.

As if none of it mattered.

As if she didn't matter.

Her irritation sharpened into something colder.

Professor Reynard scanned the room, his gaze settling on her. "Victoria."

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She smiled, sitting up straighter, confidence lacing her voice. "Professor, may I propose something?"

Professor Reynard raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Instead of answering, she turned her gaze toward Damien, her lips curving into something deceptively sweet.

"Why don't we ask Damien?"

A few murmurs rippled through the classroom. Some students turned, amused, others intrigued.

Victoria kept her gaze on Professor Reynard, her expression perfectly composed.

"He must have a fascinating insight, considering how relaxed he is," she added smoothly.

Professor Reynard followed her line of sight, his gaze landing on Damien's slouched figure. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Damien Elford," he called.

No reaction.

A flicker of satisfaction danced in Victoria's eyes.

"Damien," the professor's voice was sharper now.

****

Damien was drifting in that familiar haze between sleep and wakefulness when he felt it—

A touch on his shoulder.

Firm, hesitant.

"Damien…"

His brows furrowed slightly as the voice reached him. It wasn't sharp, nor was it filled with irritation. It was… Moren.

And then—

A strange stillness settled over the room.

A moment later, Damien finally opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Moren's face, slightly tense, his expression caught between amusement and unease.

Then, beyond him—

The gazes.

Everyone was looking at him.

Some were stifling smirks, others simply watching in anticipation. A few, like Isabelle, held unreadable expressions. But then there was Victoria, her lips curled in a triumphant little smirk.

And finally—

Professor Reynard.

Damien barely needed to look at the man to know what was coming.

"Sleeping in my class now, are we?"

The professor's voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence like a blade.

Damien sighed internally.

Ah… I really am tired today.

His sleep had been terrible. His body still ached slightly from last night's training session, and even with his increased endurance, exhaustion wasn't something he could completely escape.

But none of that mattered now.

Slowly, he stretched, rubbing his temple before turning his gaze toward the professor with the laziest, most uninterested expression he could muster.

"My apologies, Professor," he drawled, his voice still carrying the edge of drowsiness. "I must have drifted off."

A ripple of muffled chuckles ran through the class.

Professor Reynard, however, was not amused.

Professor Reynard's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident.

"Drifted off," he repeated, his tone flat. "I see. Then perhaps you wouldn't mind answering a question for the class, since you're clearly so well-rested."

Damien exhaled through his nose, already expecting this.

He lazily turned his gaze toward the board.

Equations.

Chemical formulas.

And the neatly written words: Le Chatelier's Principle.

'Hmm…'

Normally, in a transmigration scenario like this, the protagonist would miraculously possess genius-level knowledge, effortlessly answering every question thrown at him.

Unfortunately…

Damien wasn't that kind of protagonist.

He had been bedridden for the last year of his previous life, and that meant he never finished high school. His chemistry knowledge? Limited.

And old Damien?

That lazy fuck had never bothered to learn anything either.

So, in conclusion—

He had absolutely no idea what the fuck was written on that board.

Or did he?

'Wait?'

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Something about them was familiar.

Not because of this world. Not because of anything the old Damien had studied.

But because he had learned this before.

Slowly, his fingers tapped against his desk as he pieced it together.

'Oh…'

These were the topics he had covered back in his 11th year or 3rd year of high school.

Or rather, what should have been his 11th year—before his life had spiraled into a hospital bed.

And now that he was actually looking at the equations—

'Damn… These questions are kinda easy.'

His lips curled into the faintest smirk.

Apparently, the curriculum of this world's high schools was much lighter than he had expected.

And while he might not have attended the last year of his schooling in his previous life, he hadn't forgotten the theories he had already learned.

Slowly, he leaned back in his seat, his smirk growing ever so slightly.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as much of a problem as he thought.

A slow, almost lazy smirk crept onto Damien's lips as he leaned back in his chair.

He had expected trouble. He had expected to sit here, floundering, coming up with some sarcastic remark to deflect the situation.

But reality had given him an unexpected boon.

This is easy.

Lifting his hand, he ran his fingers through his dark hair before resting his chin against his palm. His sharp blue eyes flickered toward Professor Reynard, who was still watching him expectantly, arms crossed, his patience thinning.

The rest of the class?

Silent.

Waiting.

Damien let the moment stretch just a bit longer, letting the tension build, before exhaling through his nose and finally speaking.

"Le Chatelier's Principle states that when a system at equilibrium is disturbed by a change in concentration, temperature, or pressure, the system will shift in a direction that counteracts that disturbance and restores equilibrium."

His voice was steady, smooth—unhurried.

Then, without missing a beat, he gestured lazily toward the equations on the board.

"For example, if you increase the concentration of a reactant in a reversible reaction, the equilibrium will shift to the right to produce more products, reducing the disturbance. On the other hand, if you remove a product, the system will compensate by shifting to replace what was lost."

Silence.

Not just from the professor, but from everyone.

Moren? The poor bastard looked like he had seen a ghost.

Even Isabelle, who had been calmly watching from her seat, showed the slightest flicker of intrigue in her usually unreadable gaze.

But the best reaction?

Victoria.

The moment Damien started speaking, her smirk had frozen on her lips. And by the time he finished, her entire expression had soured into disbelief.

Perfect.

Professor Reynard, ever the professional, showed no outward emotion, but the brief pause before he responded told Damien everything he needed to know.

"You… are correct," the professor finally said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if reevaluating the student in front of him.

Damien simply smirked.

'Of course, I am.'

He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the desk as he took in the stunned expressions of his classmates.

It was rare for this class to be this quiet.

And Damien?

He was enjoying every second of it.

'But damn….I was really lucky….'

Just as Damien was basking in the stunned silence of the classroom, something else happened.

DING!

A familiar chime echoed in his mind, and a translucent window materialized before his eyes.

[Hidden Quest completed.]