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

Chapter 249: Forgotten Passive Skill ?

“Bring up the candidate pool.”

The moment Vivienne gave the command, the war table shimmered to life.

Dozens of translucent windows bloomed above the surface in synchronized pulses of pale blue and gold. Each one hovered in perfect alignment—projected files trimmed with arcanotech borders and responsive glyphs. At the center of every window: a live profile of an individual. Names. Faces. Roles. Stats.

Damien stepped closer, his gaze sharp, already dissecting the data.

Each profile unfolded in layers. First: a clean header with their full name, department, current project assignment, and rank within internal systems. Then came deeper logs—project success ratios, recorded disciplinary actions, commendations. Color-coded graphs tracked performance arcs over time. A soft pulse meant recent activity; a fading border indicated pending relocation or decommission.

“Efficiency, punctuality, adaptive rate, projected burnout potential,” one of the HR directors said, gesturing as a profile spun mid-air. “Each scored by a tri-system calibration—direct supervisor reports, system AI analysis, and peer reviews.”

Damien raised a brow. “And personality?”

The other director nodded. “Integrated psychological assessments are attached. Mana sensitivity, emotional volatility, tolerance under pressure. Social adaptability. Leadership bias.”

A soft tone chimed.

One profile expanded: Tarren Volin, senior logistics associate. Projects handled: 14. Success rate: 86%. System rating: A-. Supervisor note: “Resourceful but prone to bypassing protocol.” AI personality match: 72% compatibility with leadership roles. Interview flags: medium authority defiance, high self-sufficiency.

Another window bloomed beside it: Myla Drey, communications strategist. Projects: 7. Supervisor score: B. AI rating: 63%. Traits noted: empathetic, organized, needs external validation. Personality test rated high in sociability, medium in initiative.

Damien frowned slightly, swiping across another cluster. Dozens of filtered metrics responded to his gestures—mana trajectory, affinity class, education background, past sector rotations.

He muttered under his breath, “System’s more detailed than I thought.”

Vivienne crossed her arms lightly. “You’re not picking friends. You’re building infrastructure.”

One window expanded: Rowen Caid, formerly of External Stabilization. AI rating: 79%. Cold efficiency. Excellent under duress. Black mark: a physical altercation with a former superior that was resolved internally with a non-disclosure settlement.

Damien took another step toward the war table, its surface alive with shifting windows, data trails, and glowing metrics. The whole thing felt surgical—precise, cold, efficient.

Too efficient.

His eyes tracked a glowing bar labeled “Leadership Compliance Projection” as it curved around a candidate’s profile, pulsing in time with a soft chime. It reminded him of a heartbeat. But not a real one. No rhythm, no humanity—just algorithmic neatness. A machine pulsing in mimicry of life.

‘Interesting,’ he thought.

And it was. All of this—everything around him—was fascinating in a way that crawled beneath his skin.

Not in awe. Not even in intimidation.

Just… friction.

Like he was watching the skeleton of something pretending to be alive.

The way the system reduced people to percentages. The way Vivienne navigated it without blinking, like she didn’t even see the void underneath.

Damien’s gaze flicked over the profiles again. Names. Ranks. Psyche tags. One showed “High Adaptability, Low Integrity.” Another: “Loyalty contingent on perceived value.”

Convenient.

Clinical.

Dead.

He dragged a finger across the air, expanding a profile at random just to see it bleed out its metrics like a confession.

“Resourceful under duress.”

“Compatible with aggressive leadership.”

“Burnout index: 14%—acceptable range.”

He scoffed under his breath.

“So this is what power looks like here?”

Vivienne didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

This building, this system, this entire world—they weren’t built to ask questions. They were built to perform. Input-output. Pressure and yield. Show results or disappear.

And he could play that game.

But there was something missing.

A kind of… soul.

Not morality. He didn’t give a damn about that.

But resonance.

Something to make the data bleed.

He tapped his temple lightly as if to check if the system in his head would react, but it stayed silent. No ding. No message. No reward for observation.

‘Too early,’ he guessed. Or maybe the system wanted something more… active.

“Tell me something,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on the war table. “What happens if none of them are right?”

Vivienne didn’t pause.

“Then you build them into what you need.”

A perfectly Elford answer.

Damien smiled faintly.

Of course.

He stood in the glow of the war table, the light dancing across his face as another candidate profile folded open. Behind him, the hum of Elford Central’s central cortex pulsed through the reinforced walls, a quiet but constant reminder of where he was.

“You build them into what you need.”

That sentence still echoed.

Not because of the meaning. No, the meaning was simple—ruthless, efficient, expected from someone in Vivienne’s position. But it was the delivery that caught him off guard.

So clean. So absolute.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Vivienne stood with that same aristocratic stillness she always did—composed, elegant, commanding—but now he could see it differently.

Not as a mother.

As a tactician.

She hadn’t even hesitated when she said it. As if molding people, altering the gears of someone’s soul to fit her machine, was no different than adjusting a budget.

Huh.

Not that he was naïve. He didn’t grow up in some fairytale.

But hearing it?

So plainly?

That was new.

His eyes returned to the profiles. Names. Scores. Psychological traits tagged like livestock. Data flowed, colors pulsed, numbers danced in calculated harmony.

And still, he couldn’t help but feel…

Unsettled.

It wasn’t fear.

It was… friction.

All this information—metrics, compliance curves, burnout indexes—it was powerful, sure. Precise.

But it lacked instinct.

Where was the unpredictability? The fire? The mess that made people interesting?

He didn’t want a board of loyal mannequins who smiled the right way and crumbled under pressure because the algorithm never taught them how to bleed.

He needed people who understood how to fight back when the world got loud.

Who could pivot when the plan fell apart.

He needed chaos.

Harnessed chaos.

Damien tapped through a few more profiles, watching the stats adjust to his preferences. The filters were advanced, sure—but that’s what made them feel wrong.

He didn’t want to filter people. He wanted to pressure-test them.

See how they moved when no script told them how.

Not everything could be measured.

Not everything should.

This tech? This sleek, humming display of systemized precision?

It was clever.

But also artificial.

“Unnatural,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Unintuitive.”

Vivienne looked over. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Damien replied, lips twitching into a half-smile. “Just thinking.”

Vivienne’s heels clicked softly as she stepped closer, arms still folded. Her gaze remained on the profiles as she spoke—measured, calm, ever-practical.

“This system is important for someone like you,” she said, not unkindly, but with the tone of a surgeon explaining why you don’t remove your own stitches. “You’re not experienced enough yet to make judgment calls based on instinct alone. Not here. Not at this level.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes never leaving the floating war table. “These metrics, the AI calibration—they aren’t just for show. They’re a foundation. You’ll learn what to trust, what to discard. But right now?”

She gave him a side glance.

“This is the start. Use it.”

Damien didn’t reply at first.

His lips twitched upward—just slightly. Not in amusement. Not in agreement.

But because he hated it.

The implication that he needed training wheels. That this glowing, algorithm-driven monstrosity was helping him.

He kept tapping through names, pushing past another batch of profiles. The data adjusted in real time. Attributes flickered. Numbers shifted.

And then—

Something odd.

A faint shimmer.

His gaze flicked back to one name: Harren Kael. Logistics. Rank C+. Not particularly impressive on paper. But the name… it glowed.

Faintly.

Not part of the interface.

More like… something just barely out of sight.

Damien blinked.

Then another.

Renia Mallor. Procurement. Mana-indexed. 71% adaptability. Her name carried the same strange pulse. Subtle, like heat under glass.

His eyes narrowed. His thumb hovered over her profile without thinking.

And again—again—his attention pulled.

‘What the hell…?’

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t the AI. It wasn’t Vivienne’s filters. No system flag, no suggestion highlight. These weren’t top picks.

And yet—they stood out. Not to logic.

To him.

‘Hmm?’

He forced himself to scroll away.

Looked at other names.

The pull vanished.

He scrolled back.

It returned.

‘No way…’

He tapped the side of his temple. Not hard. Just a nudge. As if to signal something deeper.

‘…System.’

A beat.

Damien’s gaze lingered on the softly glowing name—Renia Mallor—still tugging at his attention like an invisible thread.

His eyes narrowed further, and he tapped his temple once, sharper this time.

‘Is this what I think it is?’

A beat.

Then, the system responded, cool and composed, its voice resonating through his mind like the stroke of a crystal bell.

[Yes, host. It is your passive skill: [Merchant’s Intuition].]

So this glow—that subtle pull toward specific names—it wasn’t a glitch.

It was him.

Or rather, the part of him the system had peeled open. Tuned. Sharpened.

These weren’t just candidates. They were assets.

Opportunities.

Hidden value others wouldn’t see until it was too late.

His thumb hovered over Renia’s name again. Not because she was the strongest, or smartest, or cleanest profile in the pool.

But because something about her radiated potential.

The kind that didn’t announce itself with metrics.

The kind you only saw if you knew where to look.

Vivienne’s voice cut back in, crisp and composed. “Have you made any selections yet?”

“Heh…”

——-A/N——-

Just to inform I will put the skill below. More chapters are on the way.

________________________________________

[Passive Skill: Merchant’s Intuition]

▶ Description: A skill that allows the host to instinctively recognize profitable opportunities.

▶ Effects:

Prosperity Sense – The host will occasionally notice financial opportunities that others overlook—whether it be rare items, undervalued assets, or hidden business prospects.

Bargain Instinct – The host will naturally develop a talent for negotiation, making deals more favorable in his favor.

Wealth Affinity – The host’s subconscious decisions will subtly steer him toward lucrative ventures over time.

Note: This ability is heavily enhanced by the host’s LUCK stat.

________________________________________

Source: .com, updated by novlove.com

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!