Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!

Leon was fifteen. He didn't want to think too hard about the consequences. He only knew everyone was looking at him with awe and approval.

Their father had always been an unusual man, even among the storied lineage of the Lion Kingdom's consorts. Where most noble husbands were content to wield their quiet influence behind the scenes, he had never been satisfied simply occupying the role of the Queen's beloved. He had an unshakable conviction that their matriarchal traditions—powerful as they were—could be something more.

He spoke often, sometimes to Leon and sometimes to no one in particular, about the injustice that seeped through the fabric of their society in smaller, quieter ways. It is not that men are powerless, he used to say, but that they are never seen as capable of holding power without suspicion.

Men were more prone to anger, unpredictable, hormonal, and they should definitely not be wielding power, they say.

It wasn't that the kingdom never crowned kings. But those rare men were only elevated when no suitable woman could be found. A last resort. A compromise. Never a first choice.

And then—he fell ill. The fever came swift and cruel, and within days, the man who had once seemed as constant as the sunrise was confined to his bed.

No one knew what words passed between him and the Queen in those final hours. But after his breathing stilled, and after the Queen emerged from the darkened bedchamber with tears drying on her cheeks, everything changed.

She called the court together, with the scent of incense from the funeral still clinging to her gown, and declared that the throne would pass not to Catalina—the daughter she had raised from birth to inherit it—but to Leon.

Some said it was madness born of grief. Some whispered that he had bewitched her heart so completely she had abandoned reason itself. But the Queen never faltered in her explanation, "If anyone has a problem with this, they can challenge me."

Leon drew in a shaky breath. "Mother told me this ten years after he passed... On the day he died," he began slowly, voice low. "She said that it was father's wish... For me to become the king."

Sofia's brows furrowed in disbelief, her mouth opening to protest, but Leon kept going, desperate to say it all before he lost his nerve.

"She said… She didn't agree with it. She never would have chosen me herself. But she felt she had no choice... And even if she did, she would honour her late husband's wishes."

He exhaled shakily. "She told me that. She said…she expected me to grow into it. To make it worth something."

Sofia's jaw clenched. "So she made a gamble," she whispered. "And sacrificed Catalina's dreams, ambitions, feelings for this."

Leon nodded. "And I… Was too selfish to step aside." He finally looked up, meeting her eyes. "I was fifteen. I didn't think of becoming king. But the moment I was told it was mine, I—I clung to it. Because I thought I deserved it, I was something more than just Leon, the young prince."

His voice cracked, but he forced the words out anyway. "I let that childish fear ruin everything. I hurt all of you. I know that."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint tick of the clock over the hearth.

Sofia's gaze was searching, her expression impossible to read. When she finally spoke, her voice was very soft. "You loved your kingdom," she said. "But so did Catalina. So did I. That was never the point."

Leon swallowed. "I know," he whispered. "Loving it isn't enough. Wanting it isn't enough."

He gestured helplessly. "That's what I've been trying to understand, these last months. What makes someone fit to rule. And I still don't have the answer."

His throat felt tight as he added, "But I'm sorry it took me this long to admit any of it."

Sofia's eyes dropped to the cookies, soggy in the milk. She didn't say she forgave him. She didn't say she understood. But she didn't send him away, either. That was the first small mercy he hadn't earned.

"I don't know what to do with all of this," she admitted quietly. "But… I suppose it's a start."

Leon sat across from Sofia, he felt like time was slowed down, and everything felt so quiet. Sofia hadn't said a word in five minutes, and he did not know what to say.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering light over her composed face as she dipped another cookie into her milk. He could tell she was still guarded.

Clearing his throat, he shifted forward, placing the two envelopes carefully on the small table between them. "Sofia," he began, voice softer than he'd meant it to be, "I… wanted to ask you for something."

She looked at the letters and then back at him, her expression unreadable. "And what is that?"

"I… I know you don't owe me anything," he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes on hers, "but could you give these to Catalina and Celeste?"

He waited for her to scoff, to remind him that he'd squandered the right to ask her for favours. But instead, she only studied him in silence. Her fingers, pale and elegant, toyed absently with the rim of her cup as she thought.

Finally, she let out a long, quiet sigh. "Letters," she murmured, almost to herself. "You think words on paper will undo years of damage?"

"No," Leon admitted. "I don't. But I have to start somewhere."

Her eyes lifted to meet his again, he felt like he could see her softening a little.

"I'll think about it," she said at last.

Leon felt his throat tighten, but he nodded gratefully. "That's all I ask."

At last, Sofia stood and set her cup aside. She moved to the door, and Leon followed, his steps slow. When she opened it, the cold night air rushed in.

"Be careful on your way back."