Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 152: Arrogant Lion King

The grand hall of the Lion Clan’s palace was silent, it was empty, and that was a first.

Thick golden columns loomed like watchful sentinels, stretching toward the vaulted ceiling above. At the far end of the hall, on a throne carved from sun-bleached ivory and trimmed in gold, sat King Leon.

He was lounging, one leg hooked lazily over the armrest, as if the sacred throne were no more than a chair in his private quarters. His long blond hair cascaded in smooth waves over his shoulders, and intertwined in it was his index finger.

He twisted a strand slowly between them, visibly bored. His eyes, golden-amber with the faintest tinge of blue at the outer rim, glowed like gemstones—eyes that were striking enough to enchant anyone, if not for the simmering arrogance behind them.

Before him stood the Dowager Queen, his mother. Dignified even in frustration, her sharp gaze bore down on him.

She wore robes of blood red and deep gold, and her black cape only added to her fearsome look.

Her voice, cool and cutting, filled the cavernous chamber.

"You have gone too far this time, Leon."

Her words were not loud, but they rang with authority, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

"Those trade relations with the Black Panther Clan have completely soured because of your behaviour. You need to rein in your arrogance. Reflect on your actions. And do not argue."

Leon didn’t move. He continued to twirl his hair, his head slightly tilted, lips pressed into a faint, unreadable line. He didn’t look at her—he didn’t have to. His silence was louder than any words.

"This is the last straw!" the Dowager Queen said, her tone rising as her patience finally cracked. "Your aunts and sisters coddled you too much, filled your head with nonsense. You’re more like an arrogant pig than a lion!"

Leon flinched, barely, as the words echoed off the marble walls. But still, he said nothing. With a final huff and a swish of her cloak, the Dowager Queen turned on her heel and strode out of the hall, her heels clicking furiously against the polished floor.

She left behind a brooding young king, his mood as foul as a storm on the savanna.

Leon sighed deeply and slumped into the throne, throwing his head back dramatically as if the entire confrontation had drained him. He crossed his arms tightly, brows furrowed in defiance. "She overthinks everything," he muttered under his breath. "As a lion, we must maintain our pride. What does she know?"

He glanced toward the ornate doors, now firmly shut, before slowly sitting upright again. His hand reached out toward a nearby goblet, but before he could bring it to his lips, the doors creaked open again.

A man entered, bowing quickly as he approached the throne. He was dressed in dark, utilitarian clothes—an advisor, or perhaps one of the more observant scouts. Someone who knew when an opportunity was worth presenting.

"Your Majesty," the man began, "I’ve received word from our informants. There appears to be unrest within the Wolf Clan. Quiet, but real. An internal conflict may be brewing."

Leon’s ears twitched slightly at the mention of the Wolf Clan. He set the goblet down, suddenly alert.

"Oh?" he asked, voice smooth but edged with interest. "Tension among the dogs?"

The man nodded. "Yes. From what we understand, there is political unrest... Internal wars, civil wars... We need to make use of this opportunity."

Leon’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Good," he said, his voice low and triumphant. "Let them fall apart from the inside. I will show them the power of the Lion Clan—the power of the king of the pride."

He stood now, descending the steps of his throne with leisurely elegance, his golden hair trailing behind him like a banner of war. His long cloak swirled around him as he strode toward the open window, where the night winds howled softly outside.

The moonlight lit up his features, making his ombré eyes gleam with something feral.

"Let my mother scold and the elders grumble," he said to no one in particular. "This is a chance. A true chance to assert dominance. Wolves may bare their teeth, but lions roar."

Behind him, the subordinate remained bowed, saying nothing.

Leon stretched his arms behind his back, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied sigh.

"As for the Black panther clan... I have my ways. Contact Caius, I have an order for him."

The advisor hesitated. "And... the Queen Dowager?"

Leon’s expression darkened, but his voice remained casual. "She’ll find out soon enough. But for now, let her reflect too. Perhaps she’s forgotten that I am the King now. I do not need to inform anyone about my decisions."

---

There was a soft knock at the door—barely audible, yet enough to pull Riven from his light sleep. He blinked, momentarily disoriented in the dim room before glancing at the sleeping figure beside him. Ronan turned back into a man again, and he was completely naked.

Riven had to make sure he was not drooling all over those abs.

Careful not to wake him, Riven slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door.

He opened it a crack, only to find Eli standing there, grinning sheepishly in the hallway.

"Eli?" Riven whispered, surprised.

"I snuck in," Eli whispered back, stepping inside. "I heard about the assassination attempt. I wasn’t summoned as a healer, so I figured it wasn’t serious. But Troy told me you were injured. So—here I am."

Riven blinked at him, touched despite himself. Eli’s presence was a rare kind of warmth.

"I brought supplies," Eli continued, lifting a small pouch. "I thought I’d patch you up quietly. No questions, no fuss."

But Riven shook his head with a small, mischievous smile. "I appreciate it, but I’ll pass."

Eli frowned. "You’re still hurt."

"Exactly," Riven murmured. "The longer this wound stays, the more guilty Ronan feels. And the more attention I get. I am not going to lose out on any amount of pampering!"