Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!
Chapter 49: A Storage Vault

Chapter 49: A Storage Vault

So why was he being treated like some valuable specimen?

Before he could voice any of his concerns, Soran took a step forward.

Riven stiffened.

The dark-clad man held something in his hand—a long, thin black cane. The moment he raised it, Riven instinctively flinched.

But instead of pain, the smooth tip of the cane gently nudged beneath his chin, tilting his face upward.

The sudden contact made Riven shiver.

Shit.

His body reacted before his mind could process, his tongue darting out to wet his lips—a nervous habit.

Soran’s sharp eyes darkened slightly at the movement.

Riven mentally screamed.

I’m afraid I’m into this.

"Hmm." Soran’s head tilted ever so slightly, as if studying him. "A very fine species indeed."

The way he said it made Riven feel like a prized object on display.

Then, just as suddenly as he had lifted Riven’s chin, Soran withdrew his cane, stepping back.

The absence of contact left a strange void.

Riven barely had time to exhale before he was being moved again.

The same man who had caught him in the carriage—his silent, ever-watchful handler—gently lifted him to his feet. His bindings remained secure, but once again, Riven was handled carefully.

Soran turned away. "Take him to the estate. I’ll be there shortly."

With that, Riven was being escorted away.

Again.

To an even further location.

Just how deep did this rabbit hole go?!

Riven stifled a laugh at that thought. Ah, how deep did the rabbit hold go? He wishes he could find out! One day... One day he will have Eli!

Riven let out a slow breath as he was guided away from the courtyard where Soran had first inspected him. His legs still felt a little weak from kneeling for so long, but his captors—handlers?—didn’t rush him.

They never rushed.

It was unnerving how controlled everything was.

There were no frantic movements, no rough shoves. Even the ropes binding his wrists were firm but did not bite into his skin. They were treating him like fragile, high-quality cargo.

Riven’s sharp eyes flickered to the man who had stepped out of the shadows to escort him next.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a muscular build that was hard to ignore. His black hair was neatly combed back, though a few loose strands fell over his forehead, giving him a slightly rugged look. His brown eyes were sharp and unreadable, cold but not lifeless.

And the scar running down the side of his face?

Hot.

He looked a bit older, like he was in his forties. Truly a daddy! Even in such a situation Riven could not help but be turned on.

Riven was going through hell, sure. He had been kidnapped, dragged away from familiar territory, and now he was being taken to some unknown location by a gang of disturbingly polite criminals—but that did not mean he was blind.

Was he suffering? Yes. Was he still going to admire the view? Also yes.

Riven sighed dramatically as they walked. "Aiyah... even my captors are handsome. The BL gods are spoiling me too much."

The man didn’t react. He did not know what this ’BL gods’ meant but he refused to break his silence.

Not even a twitch.

How disappointing.

Riven peeked at him through his lashes, lips curling up slightly. "I don’t suppose you’d be interested in untying me, would you? Just a little? You can hold my hand while you do it."

Silence.

No reaction.

This man was made of stone.

Still, Riven wasn’t discouraged. It was a long way to wherever they were going, so he might as well enjoy himself. He straightened up, tilting his head, his lips curving into something coy. "You don’t talk much, do you?"

The man did not answer.

Riven took that as a challenge.

"You know," he continued, voice lilting with amusement, "I’ve read somewhere that silent men are the deadliest lovers. Is that true?"

Nothing.

Not even a glance in his direction.

Riven narrowed his eyes.

His captor had zero reaction, no irritation, no amusement, just complete, unwavering indifference.

And Riven hated to admit it, but...

That was even hotter.

They walked in silence for a little longer, the dimly lit halls giving way to an open courtyard. Riven had expected to be led inside the grand mansion that towered ahead, but instead, they walked past it.

He frowned. "Not taking me through the front door? How rude."

No response.

Riven was really starting to dislike this guy’s self-control.

The path curved behind the estate, where the well-manicured gardens gave way to something much more sinister—a heavy steel door embedded into the foundation of the mansion itself. The moment he saw it, dread curled in his stomach.

Ah.

He was not being taken into the mansion.

He was being taken below it.

His ears twitched. "I don’t suppose this is where you store all your expensive wine, huh?"

Silence.

Then the door groaned as it was pulled open, revealing a dimly lit staircase that spiraled downward.

Oh, hell.

Riven hesitated for the first time. "Okay, now wait a second—"

A firm hand pressed against the small of his back. Not rough, not violent. Just insistent.

And then he was gently guided forward.

The descent was slow, deliberate. The air grew colder with every step, the smooth stone walls swallowing any sound beyond their footsteps. Riven’s eyes darted around, noting every detail, every potential escape route—

But what he saw instead was... Unexpected.

This was not some damp, filthy underground prison.

No, this was... A vault.

A very well-organised, high-security, meticulously maintained vault.

The vast underground space stretched in every direction, filled with glass cases housing artifacts, relics, protected documents, and what looked like heavily locked safes. The lighting was dim, designed to illuminate displays without being harsh.

It was more like a museum rather than a dungeon.

Riven whistled lowly. "Damn. Soran collects a lot of things, huh?" He was talking to himself and no one could hear him.

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