Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!

"So, there is a chance he would die trying…" The voice in the dark chamber was smooth, hesitant. It belonged to a man draped in the muted grey of the Snow Leopard retinue, a colour designed to blend into the walls of Soren's domain. His gloved hands were clasped behind his back, it was a sign of obedience.

A single lantern glowed on the polished table, reflecting Soren's face in a pale halo. Shadows carved the elegant bones of his cheeks and the straight lines of his mouth into something sharp, something that looked almost inhuman.

"A very high chance," Soren corrected, his tone as soft as it was merciless.

The man shifted, just slightly. He was used to Soren's reputation—his brilliance, his cruelty—but he hadn't expected such unfeeling clarity towards Riven. He never took in any one, only Riven, but even he did not seem to warm his heart.

The man shifted, just slightly. He was used to Soren's reputation—his brilliance, his cruelty—but he hadn't expected such unfeeling clarity.

"He was always fragile," Soren said, sounding almost bored. "Even before the attempt to sever the connection. I think he's too proud to admit it. If he goes through with it, statistically, he is most likely to fail. But who knows? He already performed a miracle once." Which was getting Soren's attention.

Silence stretched. The other man tried to find the right words, but none came. Finally, he asked, "Is that… acceptable to you?"

Soren's cold eyes rose to meet his. "If it must be. It's not preferable. But necessary things rarely are."

He lifted the letter—thick, creamy vellum stamped with the sigil of the Snow Leopard clan—and tapped it once on the tabletop.

"Ronan was willing to hand over an expensive mine for him," Soren continued, voice lowering to something that might have been a whisper if it held any softness at all. "He spoke of a change of heart… a desire to finally 'do right' by Riven. I don't buy it." His eyes turned dangerous. The mere thought... Of Ronan... Hah. Never.

"But what if Riven dies," he ventured, "and it sends Ronan into a spiral?"

Soren's mouth curved into a mirthless smile. The lantern light made it look grotesque, as though it had been carved into his face with a knife.

"Ah, yes," he murmured. "The plan." His fingertips tapped the table softly. "That is precisely the question. What would happen if Riven dies? The answer is straightforward."

He paused, savouring the moment.

"The elders will take over," he said finally. "They've been circling Ronan for years. Waiting for an excuse to declare him unfit. They'll call him unstable, claim he's a danger to the pack. And for once, they wouldn't be entirely wrong."

A asked in a neutral tone, he was used to Soren's cruel nature. "How would that benefit us?"

Soren leaned back, his gaze hooded, half-lidded with amusement. He declared in a chilling tone, "Those senile men are easy to buy."

"They crave relevance more than power," he went on. "They've spent decades grasping for Ronan's seat and failing. If Riven dies and Ronan shatters, it creates a vacuum. A leaderless pack ripe for manipulation. All that's left is to feed their resentment… And their greed."

He turned the letter in his hands, thumb brushing the seal.

"There will be infighting," he said, almost dreamily. "Ronan's supporters clinging to whatever scraps of loyalty they can muster, the old guard clawing each other's eyes out over who should wear the crown. And while they exhaust themselves…"

His smile returned, slow and deliberate.

"We will elect the final winner."

The other man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing.

"You truly think it could come to that?"

"I don't think," Soren corrected coolly. "I know."

He slid the letter across the table, watching it come to a stop in front of his subordinate.

"So, Xavier," he continued, voice going flat, "you will deliver this personally… To Riven's father. In it lies a bait he can't wait to take."

Riven heard Soren's voice again, softer this time, coaxing, almost pleading.

"Riven… Wake up. It's just a bad dream."

His heart stuttered in his chest. That sounded like his Soren, the one who held him after nightmares, the one who pressed kisses to his hair and promised that no one would ever hurt him again. He forced his eyes open, praying that he'd see the familiar warmth in that gaze.

Instead, he was met with something else entirely.

Those same dark eyes, yes, but they were colder than he'd ever seen. Flat, predatory, like pits of polished obsidian that reflected nothing back at all.

Soren looked at him as if he were something to be crushed beneath his boot.

"Stop with your act," Soren hissed. His voice was the same deep, cruel tone he remembered when he met him for the first time, but it was twisted into something even more hateful. "Pathetic."

Riven's stomach dropped. His mouth went dry.

It felt like he'd been doused in ice water.

He stumbled back, boots scraping over the polished stone floor, but there was nowhere to go. When he looked around, dread settled in his bones, heavy as lead.

The room was the same one from all those months ago. The cold, hard ground was familiar, this was where he first met Soren...

The place he'd been brought after he was kidnapped. Where Soren had first spoken to him not as a person, but as an insignificant speck of dust.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Soren took a step forward.

Riven flinched so hard he nearly lost his footing.

"Riven—"

For the briefest moment, he had his vision blur, he saw his Soren again. Those ebony eyes were warm... But it did not last long.

The darkness returned tenfold, and Soren's face twisted into something cruel.

"You think you matter?" he spat. "You were always just leverage. A liability. A pet."

Riven stumbled back until his shoulders hit the cold wall. Nowhere to run.