He blinked slowly, his lips parting as a thought slipped into his mind.
'So my identity in this new world… is Damien Cross?'
The corner of his mouth lifted.
'Same name as me.'
He let out a quiet chuckle and muttered, "What a coincidence… Wouldn't you think so, Eros?"
He wasn't sure if the god could hear him from wherever he was watching—but if he could, he hoped he was entertained.
Because Damien sure as hell was.
As the knowledge settled further, pieces of his memories of this life began slotting together.
He now understood where he was living.
A small, quiet village tucked away in the southern region of the Kingdom of Turus. A simple place, mostly farmland and dirt roads. Not particularly advanced in magic or technology… or even anything at all.
There, he lived with his "mother" and her younger sister.
Though… calling her mother wasn't entirely accurate.
Just like in his past life, he was an orphan.
The woman who raised him had only stumbled across him one night—abandoned at the side of a narrow forest path just outside the village.
She didn't know where he'd come from, didn't ask. She simply brought him in and raised him as her own.
As far as she was concerned, he was her son.
His biological parents, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found.
And with no trace of them ever showing up… he assumed they were dead.
Not that he particularly cared.
His lips twisted faintly.
But those details—his name, his status as an orphan, even his poor background—those weren't what caught his attention the most.
There was something else.
Something that made his eyes glint.
He narrowed his gaze slightly and muttered, "Turus…"
'Now that I think about it… doesn't that sound like the kingdom in that game?' he thought, pressing a finger against his temple.
About six months ago, he was randomly scrolling through a site, when he came across a strange eroge game.
Its name was The Hero's Wonderful Wives, and the reason it caught his attention wasn't just because of its unique title, but because it had been a 'fresh experience'.
He couldn't feel any Deja vu while staring at the game, so out of curiosity, he downloaded it.
However, the game itself had been complete trash.
The writing was terrible, the plot was cliche, the dialogue unbearable and even the world building which was the only saving grace it somewhat had was mediocre.
It was like a desperate attempt to glue together tropes and smut for horny losers who didn't care about story.
However, the worst part about it all was the characters, most especially the hero.
They were one-dimensional, with the women throwing themselves around him like flies.
The hero's harem was very large, over twenty even, but none of them were better than each other.
The gameplay itself was trash also, competing with the characters in terms of being garbage.
However, he still remembered it.
Despite it being trash, not once did he feel Deja vu while playing the game, so he spent a good portion of his time playing it every day.
He completed it in no time and was even more disappointed at the terrible ending.
Unfortunately, he mistakenly deleted the game one day, and his life went back to the torturous boring loop it was.
He could still remember how much he searched for the game to download again, but it was like it never existed.
At the end of the day, he gave up, accepting the game had already been deleted.
He chuckled, his eyes flashing with a strange glint.
"A trash eroge game… transmigrating into someone with the exact name as me… you sure outdid yourself on this one, Eros," he muttered.
'I hope we both entertain ourselves.' he thought, his lips curling into a slight smirk.
Damien stretched slightly and muttered under his breath, "I should head home… my lovely mother should be waiting for me."
A strange glint flashed in his eyes as his lips curled upward. Slowly, he licked them, as though savoring the thought.
Then, with a small chuckle, he turned and began walking back toward the village.
The narrow dirt path beneath his feet crunched softly as he made his way forward.
Around him, the buildings in the village stood slanted and frail, their wooden frames old and worn.
Many looked like they could collapse at any second from a simply gust of wind. The rooftops had been patched countless times, and the walls were riddled with cracks.
Up ahead, in the distance, a much taller structure came into view—a large three-storey building that loomed over the village like a watchful eye.
It was where the village chief lived.
Compared to the other homes, its structure was far more advanced. Polished stone lined its base, and the roof was properly tiled.
Even from a distance, its walls looked clean and reinforced. It stood out easily, like a lord among beggars.
Damien scoffed, his eyes narrowing faintly.
"That Brad… he's the son of the village chief, isn't he?" he muttered.
His gaze lingered on the building for a moment longer before he clicked his tongue and continued walking.
He remembered now.
Before he transmigrated, the previous Damien had been working there—as a cleaner in the chief's house.
Sweeping floors, scrubbing walls, and doing whatever menial task they threw at him. It wasn't much, but in this village, even that was considered a blessing.
But Brad never liked him.
The reason was simple: Damien's face.
Even without fancy clothes or a noble background, he had a face that turned heads. Sharp features, clear skin, and piercing blue eyes. In a place like this, it was enough to attract envy.
And Brad hated that.
He couldn't stand the fact that someone below him looked better than he did, not like he looked good in the first place.
Merely about thirty minutes ago today, Brad and his little gang dragged Damien to the edge of the village. Their plan was simple: beat him up and disfigure his face so he'd never "outshine" anyone again.
But during that process… everything changed.
Damien had transmigrated.
His consciousness fused with the body just in time, scattering their little plan.
Now, he was sure of one thing—he couldn't go back there.
Not after what happened.
Brad wouldn't forgive him. The village chief wouldn't take his side. And the job? He was, without question, fired.
His eyes slowly swept across the village, until they settled on a particular building off to the side.
It was somewhat isolated from the rest—slightly apart from the main cluster of homes. Its roof sagged in the middle, and the wooden door creaked even in the wind.
And yet, despite how run-down it looked… a faint, familiar warmth tugged at his chest.
It was home.
Just as Damien took another step forward, the worn door to the small house creaked open.
A woman stepped out.
Her eyes shimmered faintly, as though she'd been holding back tears. She looked at the side, her gaze sweeping the quiet village street.
She was beautiful.
Milky skin, unblemished and soft. Lush black hair spilled over her shoulders in thick, silky waves. She wore a modest black gown, but on her body, it clung more than it covered.
Its neckline dipped low, forming a deep V that revealed a generous view of her full, creamy cleavage. Each step made her breasts shift gently beneath the fabric, like they were alive—soft, heavy, impossible to ignore.
Her waist narrowed delicately before widening into wide, curvy hips that strained the edges of her dress. Even a loose gown couldn't hide a figure like that.
She turned to close the door behind her.
Damien's gaze followed the motion—and then paused.
Her backside was huge, round and most of all supple. It swayed like liquid under her gown, jiggling subtly with the smallest shift of her body. It was the kind of ass that demanded attention—and held it effortlessly.
His breath caught for just a second. His eyes gleamed.
'You were right, Eros…' he thought, the corners of his lips lifting. 'This world really does have everything I want.'
The lust in his gaze didn't hide. Not even from himself.
'And I'll make sure to enjoy it…' His grin deepened—sharp, dangerous, amused. 'To the fullest.'