Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 189: Apologise

"Take it off," Riven ordered with a stern face. Although he did not feel serious at all. He was jumping with glee on the inside, he hoped to get a strip show put on by King Leon.

"I beg your pardon!" Leon scoffed. He could not believe what he was hearing. How dare this wolf?! How dare this mere omega ask something like that of him! The King of the Lion Pride.

"Leon, what are you wearing?" Riven’s tone was laced with condescension.

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "My royal attire, as befits my station."

Riven stood, crossing the room with measured steps. "This is not a court assembly. Your ostentatious display is unnecessary. Change into something simpler."

Leon bristled, his jaw tightening. "I am a prince. I will not be dressed like a commoner."

Riven’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I wasn’t asking. It is an order." There was a glint in his eyes that Leon did not miss.

His jaw clenched, he was unwilling to give up.

Leon clenched his fists, the silk of his robe crinkling under the pressure. He turned to leave, intent on changing in the privacy of his quarters.

"No," Riven called after him. "Change here. In front of me."

Leon froze, his back stiffening. He turned slowly, meeting Riven’s gaze. "Is this some sort of power play?"

Riven smirked, folding his arms. "Consider it a lesson in humility."

Humility? No. Riven simply wanted to stare at some abs. He clearly was not getting any action this week, he was going to make the most of what he could get.

Leon exhaled sharply, his pride clearly taking a hit.

e needed to regain his title, and defiance would only hinder that goal. With deliberate movements, he untied the sash of his robe, letting it fall open. The silk slipped from his shoulders, pooling at his feet. His toned physique was on full display, the morning light accentuating the contours of his muscles.

Riven’s eyes lingered, a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. He tossed a simple black shirt to Leon, who caught it mid-air.

"Put this on."

Riven tossed a black shirt to Leon.

The lion frowned. How the hell- Was this wolf planning this all along?

The fabric was soft but plain, unlike the regal silks he had just taken off. He unfurled it with one swift motion, noting the close cut of the shoulders and slim tailoring. It was snug—intentionally so.

He slid his arms through the sleeves and pulled it over his torso, the material clinging to the sharp lines of his chest and tapering down his waist. He began buttoning from the bottom, the shirt pulling tight around his chest by the time he reached the middle. He paused at the top two buttons, his fingers brushing the fabric, then deliberately left them undone.

The shirt gaped slightly at the top, revealing the smooth, sculpted plane of his collarbones and a generous glimpse of his pecs. His skin was sun-kissed and firm.

Riven’s canines were on display as he smiled, those chest muscles looked so... So biteable.

The way his chest rose and fell with every breath only made the tension more pronounced.

Across the room, Riven’s gaze was fixed, sharp with amusement and... something else. His lips parted slightly, and for a brief second, he forgot how to breathe.

The sight of Leon—half-unbuttoned, muscles flexing, hair tousled, and face set in a stormy scowl—was dangerously alluring. He looked like a prince from some scandalous romance novel, and Riven could barely contain the sheer excitement bubbling under his skin.

"Well," Riven finally said, voice low and teasing, "I suppose I should let you wear that more often."

Leon shot him a glare but didn’t rise to the bait. He only straightened the cuffs, silently swearing that one day, the roles would be reversed, he was counting on it.

The doors creaked open, and a servant girl stepped in carefully, balancing a silver tray laden with various dishes. The scents of warm spices and grilled meats filled the air, mingling with the lighter aroma of fresh herbs and fruits. Leon, sat at the table with one leg crossed over the other, barely spared her a glance. Riven hadn’t ordered him around her.

She set the tray down gently, her hands delicate as she arranged the plates. Among them was a small bowl of pickled roots—a delicacy in the region, but something Leon had always found off-putting.

The moment his gaze landed on it, his expression twisted.

"Take that away," he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. "You should’ve known better than to serve that to me. Fucking useless."

The servant startled, her eyes going wide. She bowed hastily, trembling slightly. "I-I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t—"

"Enough," Riven’s voice interrupted. This damned spoiled lion! "If you don’t like something, you’re free to ignore it," Riven said, rising from his seat. His wolf ears flicked forward in quiet warning. "But you do not speak to my staff like that."

He folded his hands like a teacher and said, "Besides, I like it."

Leon clenched his jaw, his pride prickling sharply. "I-"

"I like it," Riven reiterated, leaning towards those pickles. "So it stays."

Leon narrowed his eyes. The servant girl still stood frozen, looking between the two of them in silence. Leon wanted to snap again, to say something scathing, but he didn’t. He calmed down a bit.

He forced out a breath through his nose and looked away. "Fine," he muttered. "It can stay."

"Not enough," Riven said, his tone becoming milder. "Apologise."

Leon’s head whipped toward him. "What?"

"You heard me." Riven’s eyes were instructing him to apologise. "You scolded her for no reason. She was doing her job. Apologise."

Leon’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His pride screamed at him not to give in. He was a prince. But he could not refuse.

His throat felt tight as he looked at the servant girl. "I..." The words tasted like ash. "I apologise."