Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!
Chapter 272: Please...

Chapter 272: Please...

Troy hesitated. He looked nervous, but one glance at Riven’s face shut down any protest. "Alright. I’ll lead you down."

The stone steps to the dungeon were narrow and cold, damp with years of moisture and neglect. The deeper they went, the more the air turned musty, like the breath of something that had long stopped living.

Riven didn’t flinch. There was a certain joy he got to see that his father was kept in worse conditions on purpose. Ah, Ronan, such a good mate.

Those memories surged back to Riven’s mind.

"Please, father! I didn’t mean it! I won’t do it again!"

Seven-year-old Riven’s voice cracked as he scrambled backward, his small hands clawing at the smooth marble floor for something—anything—to hold on to. But there was no escape. A shadow loomed over him, tall, furious, and merciless.

He had only stepped outside for a few minutes. The world beyond the cold walls of the estate had seemed so warm, so bright. He saw his stepbrother playing freely in the courtyard, laughing in the sunlight. And for a moment, Riven had forgotten that he wasn’t allowed the same. That his place was inside. Alone. Unseen. Forgotten.

He just wanted to feel the sun.

But the second his father saw him, everything changed.

"You dare disobey me?" the man growled, seething with rage. "Filthy, ungrateful brat!"

"I just wanted to play...!" Riven cried, a tiny voice desperate and trembling.

His father didn’t hear him—or maybe he just didn’t care.

With a sharp yank, he grabbed Riven by the ear, twisting it cruelly between his fingers. Riven cried out in pain, stumbling as he was dragged down the hall like a ragdoll. His heels scraped against the floor, and he tried to keep up, but the grip on his ear tightened until Riven was whimpering, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

"Animals don’t get to wander wherever they please," his father snapped. "You are not like your brother. You’ll never be."

They reached Riven’s small, bare room. And before he could speak again, he was shoved—shoved hard—into the tiny closet at the back of the room. It was narrow, barely wide enough for a child to stand in, and pitch dark.

"No! No, please! I’m sorry!" Riven cried, banging on the door with his fists. "I won’t do it again, I promise! Please, Father—!"

The door slammed shut with a hollow thud, and the click of the lock followed like a final judgment.

And then—silence.

Riven stood frozen for a moment, breathing fast, his hands trembling.

He screamed again, banging on the door. "Please! Let me out! It’s dark! I can’t see anything!" His little fists pounded until they ached, but no one came.

Time passed.

Minutes, then hours. Riven kept banging the door until his fists bled... But the door did not open.

The fear settled in, cold and paralysing. The air inside was stale and hot. He couldn’t sit without curling into himself. His tears had long dried into sticky streaks down his cheeks, and his throat burned from crying. He whispered to himself, voice hoarse and broken.

"Please... I’ll be good... I won’t go outside again... I’m sorry..."

But no one was listening.

No one ever listened.

At some point, Riven slumped down, too tired to scream anymore. His stomach growled painfully, and his tongue felt thick in his dry mouth. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering even though the air was warm. His mind felt fuzzy, thoughts swirling with guilt and sadness and confusion.

Why was he hated so much?

Why did his stepbrother get to smile while he had to hide?

Was he really that awful? He shouldn’t have been born.

The darkness seemed to press in closer, whispering those same cruel thoughts. You’re nothing. You don’t belong. You’re just a burden.

He must’ve drifted into sleep at some point because when he awoke, the hunger had grown sharper, and his head was pounding. There was a dull ache in his limbs from being curled up for too long.

Still, the door remained shut.

Still, no one came.

And so, Riven cried again—not loud, but soft, broken sobs. Not because he was in pain, but because deep down... He started to believe it. That maybe his father was right. Maybe he was worthless. Maybe this was all he’d ever have.

Just darkness, silence, and a cold floor.

Riven snapped back to the present. He shook his head and gulped. What a painful memory, his heart felt tight. How could that poor boy endure such abuse... A father is supposed to protect his child, not torture him.

The dungeon was mostly empty now, save for one cell at the very end.

A pathetic figure sat on the ground, cloaked in tattered robes. His once-proud posture had collapsed into something hunched and hollow. His cheekbones were sharp from starvation, and his eyes—once cold and commanding—now had a dazed, sunken look.

His father, someone who was involved in the rebellion...

The man barely stirred as they approached. He didn’t even lift his head until Riven spoke.

"So this is what Lord Lucien is reduced to." Riven’s voice echoed against the stone.

The figure flinched at the sound.

Riven stepped closer to the bars, green eyes gleaming. "Look at you," he said, voice low. "You used to tower over me, used every chance to ’show’ the power you held over me. Always angry. Always disappointed. Always telling me I was useless. That I was nothing."

The man stayed quiet. He did not respond, he stayed very still.

"You..." he rasped, voice hoarse. "Riven?"

"Oh, I’m Riven," he smiled, cruelly now. "But not the Riven you knew."

Troy, lingering behind, shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

"I came here for one reason," Riven continued. "To see what became of you. And honestly?" He gestured broadly to the dank prison. "I’m impressed. You’ve fallen farther than I ever imagined. Either way, this is only the beginning."

The old man muttered, coughing violently. "You... You..."