Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 14: Fuck off Kaine

I took one last look at the mirror, at the bloated, chubby-cheeked excuse of a man staring back at me, and exhaled sharply.

This wasn't the time to stand here and mope.

First and foremost, I needed to get the fuck out of this place.

This club—the flashing neon lights, the sweat-drenched bodies grinding against each other, the overwhelming stench of alcohol and perfume—was the worst possible place for me to be in right now.

I needed space.

I needed silence.

I needed to think.

But at the very least, there was one silver lining in all of this.

'Fuck... Should I say thankfully, I became a character that I recently played and my memory is still clear?'

As ridiculous as it was, as utterly fucking absurd as this entire situation felt, I still had one advantage—knowledge.

Thankfully, for some goddamn reason, that shitty eroge game was surprisingly well-developed.

Sure, the character writing was dogshit.

Sure, Damien Elford was the most pathetic protagonist ever conceived by mankind.

But the game itself? The world?

It was detailed.

It had lore.

It had an open-world setting.

And because I had played through every miserable inch of it, I knew exactly what to do next.

Like, for instance—

'This guy's driver should be waiting outside the club.'

That thought alone gave me the push I needed to move.

I turned away from the mirror, wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, and straightened up. My legs were still unsteady, my body still felt foreign, but I ignored it. Step by step, I forced myself back into motion.

By the time I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out into the club's main area, the heavy bass of the music slammed into me again.

Just needed to make it to the exit.

As I navigated through the crowd, I spotted him immediately—Kaine.

The bastard was still lingering near our table, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

His brows furrowed slightly.

"Yo, Damien! You good now?"

He took a step toward me, giving me a once-over like he was analyzing my condition.

"You looked kinda shaky back there, man. Thought you were gonna pass out or some shit."

I narrowed my eyes.

His voice was light, casual, the same easygoing attitude as before. But beneath it, I could sense something else—curiosity.

Suspicion.

He was still thrown off by my behavior.

He knew something was different.

'But so fucking what?'

I forced a breath, squared my shoulders, and met his gaze.

"I'm better now."

The words came out even, controlled. A direct contrast to how I actually felt—like my entire existence was barely stitched together with frayed thread.

But I wasn't about to let this idiot see that.

"But I'm done here. Not in the mood to stick around."

Kaine let out a short chuckle, nodding as if he completely understood.

"Yeah, I feel you, man." He scratched the back of his head. "Celia fucking stormed through like a damn hurricane. After a scene like that, I'd be shaky too."

I turned to him sharply.

My glare must've been worse than I intended because Kaine immediately took a step back, his casual grin twitching slightly.

Celia?

Right now, Celia was one of the least of my fucking problems.

I had just fucking died.

I had just woken up in a fictional body.

I had just puked my guts out because my very existence was struggling to hold itself together.

And this fucker thought I was shaken over some rich girl throwing a tantrum?

Pathetic.

Kaine held up his hands, sensing something was off. "My bad, man... Fuck... Why are you glaring at me?"

I didn't even think.

Didn't hesitate.

I just leaned in slightly, lowering my voice, letting every ounce of irritation bleed into my tone.

"Shut the fuck up, Kaine."

His expression stiffened.

"O-Or wha—"

"Or I will rip your fucking tongue out."

For a long moment, I just stared at Kaine.

My blood was boiling.

Not in the dramatic, I'm-about-to-kill-a-man kind of way. No, this was something deeper. Something raw. A simmering, uncontrollable rage bubbling inside me, and I didn't even know if I could contain it.

Because what the fuck was this situation?

What the fuck was this body?

What the fuck was any of this?!

I was angry. At everything. At myself. At this world. At this weak sack of shit I was stuck in. At the absurdity of it all. At the fact that I had died and now had to deal with this nonsense instead of just—I don't know—being dead?!

And this fool? This clown standing in front of me, acting like I was some heartbroken idiot who just got dumped?

Pathetic.

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I was barely holding myself together.

If I didn't walk away now, I wasn't sure what I would do.

Kaine, to his credit, understood immediately.

His body stiffened, his hands dropping to his sides, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. The air between us changed, and I could feel the shift—he no longer saw me as his drinking buddy.

He saw something else.

Something he wanted no part of.

"...The fuck?" he muttered, blinking as if trying to process this. "You lost it, man."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Just like that.

Like I was some unstable bomb he didn't want to be anywhere near.

Good.

Let him fucking leave.

I didn't need him.

Didn't need anyone.

Without wasting another second, I turned on my heel and strode toward the exit.

Kaine would cover for me in terms of pay anyway.

As I stepped outside, the first thing that hit me was the air.

Cool, fresh, crisp against my heated skin. It rushed into my lungs like a goddamn lifeline, clearing some of the fog clouding my mind.

And then—

The city.

It sprawled out before me, stretching into the distance, neon signs flickering in the night, towering skyscrapers lined with massive billboards advertising everything from high-end luxury brands to trashy fast-food joints. The streets were alive with people, cars zipping past, the hum of a modern metropolis filling the air.

It was... familiar.

And yet, not.

Something inside me recognized this place, the layout of the streets, the towering skyline. But at the same time, it felt distant, blurred at the edges, like trying to recall a dream I had only half-remembered.

Memories.

His memories.

They were seeping into me, bleeding into my own consciousness, shaping my perception without me even realizing it.

I knew this city.

Not because I had been here before.

But because Damien had.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus, forcing myself to stay me.

And then, my eyes landed on it.

A sleek, black luxury car parked at the curb, the chrome reflecting the flashing city lights. The moment I stepped forward, the driver's side door opened, and a man stepped out.

Dressed in a crisp black uniform, he moved with precision, his posture straight, his expression calm but professional.

And the moment his gaze met mine, he gave a small, respectful nod.

"Young master."

The words sent a strange, unsettling wave through me.

Not because I didn't expect it.

But because I did.

I remembered this.

Not from my own life.

But from the game.