Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 196: No Tantrums

Lowering the tariffs wouldn’t be a significant blow to the kingdom. If anything, it would smooth relations and invite prosperity. Trade would flourish if done right, and that was what he kept reminding himself. Repeatedly. Because the real sting wasn’t in the deal. It was in losing. Publicly. Badly.

When he entered the main hall, the atmosphere was thick with expectation.

Sahira, the diplomat from the Black Panther Tribe, sat gracefully on one of the long cushioned benches, sipping a cup of tea. Her golden eyes sparkled with amusement the moment she saw him. Leon didn’t return the smile, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging her with dignity.

The Dowager Queen sat at the head of the long table, fingers interlaced, hiding her inner concern beneath a composed expression. She was worried. Of course she was.

She’d heard about the crushing defeat he’d suffered at Sahira’s hands during the chess match, and she likely expected him to lash out, or storm in with that temper of his. Sahira probably expected the same. They both knew he hated being humiliated.

And yet—Leon gave them neither.

He approached the table, and his gaze fell on the rolled parchment laid out in front of his mother. The contract. Everything was already in place. The documents were ready. All that was left was the ceremonial approval—the stamp of the King.

Which was him, unfortunately only for today, that is, until Riven finally lets him off.

Leon reached for the scroll, and opened it with calm precision. He read the document once again, this time with a cooler head. No traps. Just a straightforward agreement to reduce the tariffs on three major imports from the Black Panther Tribe.

A sensible move. Strategic, even. That didn’t make the sting of defeat any lighter, but he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself all over again.

Sahira watched him with an expression that hovered between curiosity and smugness. She said nothing, simply sipped her tea. She expected theatrics. Perhaps a condescending comment. A demand to renegotiate.

Leon lifted the royal seal.

"Your strategy was impressive," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Sahira’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

"I underestimated you," he continued, his tone clipped but steady. "A mistake I won’t make again."

With that, he pressed the seal into the ink and marked the document without hesitation. The final stamp clicked into place.

Silence stretched across the hall.

The Dowager Queen blinked, visibly surprised. Her lips parted as if to speak, but closed again. She had prepared herself to intervene, to prevent an argument, to settle tempers. But Leon had done nothing she expected.

Sahira recovered first. Her lips curved into a slow smile. "You honour me with your words, Your Majesty."

Leon exhaled through his nose. "Yes indeed, it is an honour for you to be the receiving end of my praise."

If Riven were there, he would roll his eyes. This lion and his arrogance.

Sahira let out a small laugh, raising her teacup in salute.

The Dowager Queen finally stood and walked over to him. "That was... unexpected," she murmured under her breath.

"I’m full of surprises," Leon replied, keeping his eyes ahead.

She looked at him for a moment, her gaze softer than usual. "This is a good decision. It’ll benefit our people."

"I know," he said, almost too quickly, before adding in a quieter voice, "I’m not blind, Mother." He wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in his throat. He changed a little, but there was a long way to go before he turned into a good leader.

She didn’t press for more. Instead, she nodded, satisfied—for now.

Leon turned slightly, catching Sahira’s eye once more. Her confidence hadn’t wavered. If anything, she seemed even more assured now that he had proven himself capable of swallowing pride. He didn’t like her. Not yet. But he respected her.

He started walking toward the hall’s exit. He’d done what needed to be done.

Behind him, the Dowager Queen and Sahira exchanged glances—one of subtle understanding and mild surprise.

Leon returned to Riven’s room, his boots clicking softly against the floor, his footsteps were much slower and gentler.

Without much thought, he went straight for Riven’s room, not his own.

He pushed open the door without knocking, too tired and too irritated to care about formalities. Riven was sprawled lazily on the large bed, flipping through a book he clearly wasn’t reading.

As soon as he saw Leon, Riven closed the book and smiled. "How did it go?"

Leon raised an eyebrow, walking in with cautious suspicion. "You don’t have any tasks for me?" he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes like he expected a trap to spring from the shadows.

Riven chuckled, stretching his arms over his head. "You’re the king for today," he said. "I can’t let the king serve me now, can I?"

Leon stood silently, clearly unconvinced.

"But," Riven added with a smirk, "if you insist, I don’t mind giving you a few tasks. Massage my tail, will you?"

Riven sat up and then turned around with a dramatic flair, showing off his fluffy, ebony tail as if it were some sacred relic, as the light hit it, it shimmered with a silvery tone.

Leon blinked slowly, his expression unimpressed. "I will not be doing that."

"Your loss," Riven said with a shrug, not bothering to press. He flopped back on the bed and turned to face Leon again, one hand tucked beneath his cheek. "So... how did the signing go?"

Leon let out a sigh and crossed the room, his hand trailing along the edge of the writing desk before he leaned against it. "It was fine. My mother seemed surprised."

"Of course she was surprised," Riven said casually. "She was expecting you to throw a tantrum."

Leon looked away, jaw tightening. That was true. He could read it in her eyes—the hesitation, the way she kept glancing at him like she was ready to intervene, to make excuses, to smooth things over if he lashed out. And that realisation stung.

He didn’t throw a tantrum.

Not this time.