Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 8: Ronan

Because Riven should have been the heir.

His younger self had seen it, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Riven had the blood of their father in his veins, the same sharp features, the same innate grace—he could have been great. But he wasn't. He had been discarded, tossed aside as Julius took his place.

At first, Julius told himself it was justice. That it was fair. He was a purebred wolf. He was the one who had been raised under relentless training, suffering under their father's expectations, crushed beneath the weight of responsibility.

Because he was not his father's real son he had to work extra hard to prove himself. His mother would never forget that her life and his life hung in the balance, he needed to be recognised as the heir. He could never be anything less than perfect.

And Riven? Riven had done nothing. He had been nothing.

A leech. A burden. A disgrace.

Julius should have hated him.

But somehow, he didn't.

A half-breed. A failure. Someone who didn't deserve his attention, let alone his respect. And yet, from the moment they were children, his gaze had always been drawn to him.

At first, he told himself it was because Riven didn't deserve the privileges he was born with. That Julius had to be better. Stronger. Worthier.

But deep down, he had known the truth.

Riven was the only one who had ever made him feel anything.

No, he had fallen instead—deep, twisted, obsessive. And that had haunted him every day since.

He had wanted to destroy Riven. To break him, to make him crawl, to make him feel small, just to erase this unbearable pull that dragged Julius toward him.

But now, Riven had stripped him bare.

"Does seeing my face remind you of how you fell for a man?"

Julius let out a shaky breath, how pathetic was he? To fall for Riven. He should hate him, shouldn't he? Hate him for being so weak, so... Meek. He was half a wolf but he had not one quality a wolf should have.

And somehow that vulnerability attracted him. He wanted to bully him more. He wanted to see him scream his name in pain... He wanted to leave bruises on his body.

Julius exhaled, pressing his fingers against his temple. He had always known. He had always known why his chest tightened when Riven defied him, why his blood ran hot when Riven smiled at him, why every insult, every sneer, only made him want to get closer.

He had spent so long fighting it. Denying it.

But there was no point anymore.

Riven had dragged his ugly little secret into the light, and Julius could no longer look away.

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

He was in love with Riven.

As Riven descended the grand staircase, he was immediately met with an oppressive silence that blanketed the room. The servants, who had been bustling around just moments ago, now stood stiffly against the walls, eyes cast downward as if afraid to breathe too loudly.

It wasn't hard to see why.

At the centre of the room stood two figures.

One was Troy, the right-hand man of Alpha Ronan, a tall and broad-shouldered man with a sharp, rugged appearance. His presence alone would have been enough to make the entire household tread carefully.

But it was the man behind him that truly stole the scene.

Long, snow-white hair cascaded down his back, stark against the deep black of his high-collared coat. His piercing icy-blue eyes scanned the room like a wolf assessing a pack of prey, calm and calculative.

Even without reading that picture book that apparently had his face plastered all over it, Riven would have recognised him instantly. Who else in this world could pull off that regal yet effortlessly intimidating aura?

At the foot of the stairs, Riven's father stood, his head slightly bowed in an almost subservient posture.

Riven blinked.

Had he ever seen his father act like that?

This was the same man who screamed at him daily for "disgracing the family name" just by existing. The same man who threw plates at the wall whenever Julius so much as misplaced an item in his study.

And now, here he was, standing with his back straight but not stiff, his expression controlled, his tone careful.

Riven didn't need the original's memories to tell him one thing—his father might have been a cruel man, but he had pride.

And right now, that pride had been shoved into a box and buried six feet underground in the presence of this man.

Just as Riven took the last step down, his father's voice rang out.

"Oh, we are honoured to serve you, Alpha."

Riven nearly tripped.

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EXCUSE ME?

His father? The same man who lorded his status over everyone and treated those beneath him like garbage was speaking with deference?

Hah, what did he expect anyway? Ronan was the Alpha of all the wolf packs, of course, he commanded the respect of each and every werewolf.

He knew from the story how powerful this man was, he knew from Riven's memories how his father was, seeing both in action right in front of him was a scene he needed time to process.

It almost made him want to laugh—almost.

Because he had bigger things to worry about.

Like the fact that Alpha Ronan's sharp gaze had landed directly on him.

For a brief second, Riven considered turning around and walking right back up the stairs. Maybe jumping out the window. Disappearing into the woods. Starting a new life.

But that would be cowardly.

And if there was one thing his high school bullies had taught him, it was that the moment you started running, people thought they could chase you forever.

So, instead, he kept walking.

He kept his chin tilted up, his stride casual, unbothered.

He felt the Alpha's eyes follow him.