Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel! Chapter 158: Only The Beginning

The realisation hit Riven like a bucket of cold water early that morning. He had only one day left before he would have to return to Soren.

He lay sprawled lazily across the bed, staring up at the grand ceiling.

Ronan, as if sensing the shift in Riven’s mood, had been watchful all morning. He hadn’t said anything outright, but his actions gave him away, lingering touches, thoughtful glances, a careful kind of gentleness that Ronan reserved only for Riven.

Ronan intended to make the most of the ti they had left.

Even though their destination today was none other than Riven’s childhood ho, a place steeped in bad mories and painful scars, Ronan wanted to overwrite so of that sadness. He wanted to create sothing new. Sothing Riven could carry with him when they were apart again.

And, truthfully, Ronan wasn’t particularly upset about Riven leaving this ti. In fact, it ca at the perfect mont.

With Riven safely tucked away under Soren’s protection, Ronan could focus on the chaos brewing within the clan. The elders would be dealt with, one by one, their power crushed underfoot like insects. With Riven away from the centre of danger, Ronan’s fangs would be free to bare without restraint.

Their trip to Riven’s father’s estate was set for mid-morning.

The journey itself was relatively short, but it felt longer due to the thick tension in the air. Riven sat beside Ronan in the carriage, arms crossed and expression unimpressed, his tail occasionally flicking with agitation.

Ronan, in contrast, looked relaxed, one arm thrown casually over the backrest behind Riven, a small smirk tugging at his lips whenever Riven huffed irritably.

"Your face will freeze in place you keep pouting continuously like that," Ronan teased, voice low and amused.

"I’m not pouting."

"You are."

Riven realised he was going back to a place that looked at him in disdain, not just his father, but everyone. Since he was a half-wolf, people treated him terribly and very much on purpose.

Original Riven’s mories kept pouring into his mind.

When they finally arrived, the estate lood before them, cold and imposing just as Riven rembered.

Standing at the top of the marble steps, awaiting their arrival, was Riven’s father.

The man was a picture of nobility, draped in deep navy blue robes embroidered with silver thread. His hair was perfectly combed back, his posture stiff with calculated grace.

From a distance, he looked every bit the respectable lord he pretended to be.

But Riven knew better.

As they climbed the steps, Riven could feel the fake warmth radiating off his father like a cheap perfu.

"Riven," the man said smoothly, his voice the sa sickly-sweet tone he always used when there were witnesses. "Welco ho, son."

Riven barely contained his snort.

The old man even dared to open his arms slightly, as if expecting a hug.

Riven, in response, rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle he didn’t fall over from the effort.

He swept right past the man without a word, stepping into the house he once called ho. Ronan followed leisurely behind him, pausing only briefly to offer the lord a polite but utterly unimpressed nod.

If Riven’s father noticed the lack of a proper greeting, he didn’t show it.

Was he an elder? Not yet. Not now, at least. He was close to being in that position, but hadn’t beco one yet.

Riven could almost taste it—the discomfort, the forced civility.

Good.

Let him squirm.

He hated this man with every fibre of his being.

And today?

Today, he was going to teach him a lesson.

Inside, the manor was exactly as Riven rembered. Cold. Lavish. Soulless.

Expensive vases lined the hallways, paintings of grim-faced ancestors glared down from the walls, and servants scurried about like frightened mice.

Riven walked as if he owned the place, which he technically had a right to. He inspected the portraits and tapestries with mock interest, deliberately letting his fingers graze over the ornate furniture, leaving invisible trails of defiance.

With Ronan beside him, his father simply had to smile and keep all his complaints to himself. He too heard the rumours, the rumours that his embarrassing half-breed son beca the mistress to the Alpha. What kind of cursed abomination was this?

He could not ask or confront Riven, that child was out of control and out of his clutches.

He trailed behind them, still smiling that fake smile, still pretending that everything was fine, that he wasn’t seething beneath the surface.

Riven stopped in the grand hallway, turning on his heel to face the man.

"I need access to my old rooms," he said coolly, voice carrying through the cavernous space.

"Of course, of course," his father said imdiately, gesturing for a nearby servant to lead the way. "Anything for you, Riven."

Riven pushed open the heavy door to his old room and stepped inside without hesitation. As he did, he noticed movent behind him—his father, attempting to follow.

With a swift motion, Riven turned and blocked the doorway, his expression cold and unimpressed.

"You never set foot in my room before," Riven said, voice sharp with barely concealed contempt. "So why is there a need to do it now?"

Riven rembered from his mories the true colours of the old man in front of them... When Riven was just a child, he wished for his father’s love desperately. When he ca down with a serious fever, he hoped his father would visit him once... At least once... Just sit by his side for a mont and look at him with care and love.

The original Riven left the world before his wishes ca true.

Lucian opened his mouth to say sothing, but stopped, the sa false smile plastered across his face, but Riven cut him off before he could speak.

"Please leave. I have much to discuss with the Alpha."

The dismissal was clear, and for a mont, tension crackled between them. Lucian’s smile strained further at the edges, and though he remained outwardly composed, his eyes flickered with suppressed anger.

’This is only the beginning... Father."