All Chapters of Once His Bully. Now His Whore: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

By then, I knew my time was short. I had to act.I fled. Sought out a Dark Mage willing to perform the most forbidden magic of all time: a complete severance of identity.It was nearly impossible to find, costing me every single gold coin I stole from my father when I ran away from home. But I had found one. The last of its kind.The process had been excruciating, taking a full year of agony and endless recovery. Even now, long centuries later, I still drank brews and followed instructions without fail to avoid mishap.But the result was flawless. Worth it.That was how Jolan Kolls was born. New face. New scent. New voice. Everything remade.When I returned for my pet, I killed every handler who had known my old face and replaced them with new ones. A clean and quiet operation.And the best part in all? Baevera was mine alone now.That was how I survived.That was how I evaded Revandrel Cel’theren, until now.And that was why I did not answer his challenge pheromone for pheromone toni

That night her cries woke me from sleep. The curse of being a light sleeper. Across the wide bed, Alaric remained in a deep sleep, undisturbed.“No, no, no, no,” Baevera sobbed in a small, fractured voice.With a long, resigned breath, I rose, reaching for the heavy robe draped across the chair.Once secured, I moved to her door and tested the handle. The latch gave easily, the door drifting open on silent hinges to a narrow gap.Baevera thrashed restlessly upon the bed, hair a wild tangle of red across the pillow, chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic pants, her skin slick with sweat.Five nights had passed since I carried her here. Five nights since I last stepped fully into this room. Five nights since she had stepped out of it. “I will be good, I swear.” The words cracked on a sob. Her fingers knotted in the linen. “Please…have mercy.”My gaze fell to the wooden cup at her bedside. The valerian draught sat untouched, dark liquid still as a mirror.Figures. She probably cou

LADY BAEVERAIn the past few days, I have lived more in my head than in the world beyond these walls. More in the past than in the present.Seeing Vido again had shaken me, cracking open doors I had sealed and reinforced for centuries, but seeing Jolan had dismantled me completely, tearing down every wall I had built, all my defenses stripped bare and scattered at my feet, until there was nothing left.Seven hundred years of careful rebuilding, of clawing my way back to something resembling wholeness, swept away in a single night. I was back in Pleasur’io. Back in the beginning. In that lightless underground chamber where everything was red, and every sight was pain.If I had truly been alone, I do not know what I would have done.Here, I was granted all the space I silently asked for, but, not once did I feel alone.There were occasional grumbles and the cadence of footsteps drifting through the walls from time to time. Not to mention Alaric’s benevolence, bringing me things all the

Bouncy walked without complaint, head lowered, hooves striking the ground in steady rhythm. The silence between us was not uncomfortable, just delicate.I wanted to speak, yet I feared that any words might fracture whatever this fragile thing was between us. What could I possibly say that would not drag us back into the past?How did you survive after leaving Eldareth Manor that night? How did you endure alone on the road? When did you learn to fight? How did you become the Arrow-Eye Hunter, the Bloodthirsty Gladiator? How did you rise from nothing to building empires?No. Better not.Bouncy flicked his tail, muscles twitching beneath his pale hide.“Steady, boy,” Revandrel murmured, scratching gently behind the mane.“So… why the name?” I ventured at last, voice soft, careful.He glanced at me. “What name?”“Bouncy.”Silence returned, long enough that I thought he would not answer.“He was a terror as a colt,” he said finally. “Would not walk straight, would not stand still, bouncing

LADY BAEVERAThe scars on my back itched when I woke.Some days were like that, phantom sensations rising without warning, echoes of pain long past. Some days it felt sharper, as though the old wounds remembered themselves more clearly than I did.Brushing the sensations aside, I rose and focused on the day ahead.I needed proper preparation, so I went back to my chamber. There was no need to ferry my belongings back and forth to Revandrel’s rooms.Taking my time, I readied myself, and I took more time than I had allowed myself in years.After my slow bath, I chose my garments with care; soft linen underdress dyed the deep indigo of midnight skies, overdress of charcoal wool edged in silver thread, boots of supple leather dyed to match.Every clasp, every fold, every small detail received attention I had long since stopped giving.Then, packed an overnight satchel as well, just in case the meeting in Rosvalley stretched into evening and we were forced to stay the night.The thought se