Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!
Chapter 45: Strip

Chapter 45: Strip

Still, he had charm! He had his wit! And he had his ability to convince people to do things for him!

So, with the confidence of a prince fallen on hard times, Riven approached the counter and flashed his most dazzling, harmless-lost-puppy smile. "A drink, please."

The barkeep—a burly man with thick arms, a balding head, and a mustache that looked like it had a life of its own—narrowed his eyes. He looked Riven up and down, taking in his ragged state, and let out a slow, unimpressed grunt.

"I’ll see what I can do for you."

Riven flinched. Damn it. He should have led with the puppy eyes.

He clasped his hands together and leaned in dramatically, eyes glistening. "Please... I’m so... hungry..." He hoped the barkeep would go faster.

The barkeep exhaled through his nose, looking away as if trying not to be swayed. But Riven saw the hesitation. This was still wolf territory, which meant, in theory, wolves helped their own. Riven just had to play into that.

"I haven’t eaten in days," he continued, making his voice just a little shaky. Was it a lie? Technically, yes. Had it been a long time since his last meal? Also yes. Did it matter? No. "You wouldn’t let a poor wolf starve, would you?"

The barkeep clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath before turning around. A moment later, he placed a mug in front of Riven.

"There. Non-alcoholic."

Riven pouted slightly but grabbed the mug anyway. The moment the liquid touched his lips, he almost sighed. It was... Warm. And sweet? Oh, this was honeyed milk! This tail happily swished.

Then, a plate was set in front of him—a small plate. With snacks.

Riven blinked at it. He had been expecting—no, dreaming of—a full meal. Something hearty! Something that could fill his poor, suffering stomach! But instead, he was given some nuts, dried meat, and a tiny, sad-looking piece of bread.

His tail drooped.

What is this?

Was he a squirrel?

Was he supposed to nibble on this and pretend it was a feast?

The barkeep crossed his arms. "Take it or leave it."

Well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Sighing internally, Riven grabbed the piece of bread first, stuffing it into his mouth. It was stale but edible. Then he grabbed some dried meat. The saltiness hit his tongue, and he had to admit—it was pretty good. His stomach, at least, seemed to think so. It growled again as if saying, Feed me more, you fool.

The barkeep watched him eat with mild amusement. "You eat like you haven’t seen food before."

"I haven’t, not real food," Riven said between bites. "Not since..." He trailed off, making his voice all dramatic and sorrowful.

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Not since when?"

Riven stared into the distance. "Not since my tragic escape... From the depths of despair..."

"...Right."

By the time Riven finished every crumb, he felt slightly better. Not full. Not satisfied. But better.

And then the barkeep placed the bill in front of him.

Riven’s ears twitched. He stared at it. Then he looked up. Then back down.

"...Ah."

The barkeep crossed his arms. "Yeah. ’Ah.’ You gotta pay."

Riven shifted in his seat, curling his tail up slightly. He batted his eyelashes. "I don’t have money..."

"I figured."

"Can I..." Riven paused for effect, tilting his head, voice going sultry, "pay in another way?"

He made sure his tone was just the right amount of suggestive, eyes big and slightly mischievous.

The barkeep’s face remained blank.

Then he spoke, voice flat.

"Sir, this is a tavern."

Riven blinked.

"...Okay, but like, what kind of tavern?"

"The kind where you pay with money."

Riven’s tail drooped again. So much for that plan.

Well, you miss every shot you don’t take so no regrets.

Now, normally, he’d just charm his way out of situations like this. Flash a smile, bat his eyes, maybe touch someone’s arm and boom, problem solved. But the barkeep? He was immune.

Which meant Riven had to go with...

Plan B.

"Hey, what’s that over there?" Riven suddenly gasped, pointing dramatically toward the far side of the tavern.

The barkeep didn’t even glance. "Nice try."

Damn.

Riven cleared his throat, sitting up straight. "Alright, look, I will work for my food. I am an excellent—uh—" He searched his brain for anything useful. "...Storyteller?"

The barkeep squinted.

"Storyteller?"

More squinting.

Riven had to admit that he was a good bullshitter.

"...I could clean dishes?"

The barkeep exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Fine. You wash dishes until I say you’re done."

Riven groaned internally.

He was never running away again.

Why do bad things happen to mediocre people who just want to top some hot men?

Just when Riven thought he had successfully bargained his way into a humble dishwashing job, another voice cut through the conversation.

"What’s all this fuss about?"

A tall, elegant man with silver-streaked hair and piercing green eyes strode forward, his mere presence making the already intimidating barkeep step aside. This was the owner of The Howling Tankard, and from the way he looked Riven up and down, Riven knew he was in trouble.

He was still hot... For someone who was old.

The owner didn’t say anything at first, merely scanning Riven’s disheveled form with an almost amused expression. Finally, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re too pretty to be wasted on dish duty."

Riven blinked. "Uh—"

"Take him."

Before he could even process those ominous words, two waitresses appeared out of nowhere, grabbing his arms.

They were both lovely—one with short, curly brown hair and sharp eyes, the other taller with golden braids and a wicked grin. They exchanged a knowing look, then turned their gazes on him.

"Wait—what are you—?"

"Oh, don’t struggle, sweetie," the curly-haired one cooed. "You’ll like this."

Riven did not, in fact, think he would like this.

The waitresses hauled him off, ignoring his protests, and before he knew it, he was shoved into a back room filled with spare costumes, fabrics, and—was that perfume?!

"Alright, strip."

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.