PSW Chapter 1: This Pharaoh Is Evil

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ANNOUNCEMENT 

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The divine ruler walking among men—the Pharaoh.

The goddess bestows reverent kisses upon his impossibly handsome face, while the gods grant him a warrior’s sculpted physique. The sun god Ra blesses him with supreme glory and divine power. The winged goddess of royal authority, Nekhbet, perches upon his left shoulder, while the cobra-headed Uraeus, guardian deity of Lower Egypt, coils at his feet.

The god of the underworld, Osiris, delivers death to all who dare defy him.

Elves sing hymns of praise as they crown him.

The moon god Bastet guards him from behind.

All of Upper and Lower Egypt devotes themselves to this god incarnate, worshiping him fanatically. They crawl at his feet, kiss the ground he treads upon, and gaze in awe at the golden chariot as it passes by.

For the common folk, catching even a single glimpse of the Pharaoh in their lifetime is an honor they can boast about for generations—even in the afterlife.

For the Pharaoh is God.

A mighty falcon soars across the blue sky, its sharp cry piercing the heavens as it dives with breathtaking speed. Its two-to-three-meter wingspan stretches wide as it glides, then suddenly stops midair with a powerful beat of its wings, twisting into a sharp turn.

It flies past towering white stone columns, past rows of armored warriors with bulging muscles standing in disciplined formation. The falcon’s keen eyes reflect the cold glint of spears as they stretch endlessly into the distance.

The noble villas are exquisite, the bustling market thrives with trade, and the cobbled streets branch out through the city like a great tree spreading its limbs.

Majestic white temples rise in solemn grandeur, and the opulent royal palace gleams with embedded gemstones.

“Kreee—!”

The falcon cries again, and the civilization of Ancient Egypt unfurls before it.

It circles the palace, then beats its wings to slow its descent, gliding through the grand hall. The heavy curtains billow as it passes, brushing past beautiful handmaidens and trembling ministers kneeling on the ground.

At last, the falcon lands beside the highest throne, its talons gripping onto a golden perch adorned with delicate branches. A flash of red gemstone glints from the golden band on its leg.

Seated upon the throne, a man turns his head slightly. He lifts a long, slender finger to gently stroke the falcon’s beak, his ice-blue eyes gleaming with a cold light.

"You're back?"

His voice is deep and sensual.

The falcon spreads its wings slightly in response, its sharp eyes reflecting the image of Egypt’s Pharaoh.

This Pharaoh… was too beautiful.

A strip of pure white cloth draped around his waist, secured by an ornate golden belt encrusted with jewels. His upper body was bare, revealing a sculpted torso. His skin, an unusually cool shade of alabaster even among the royal bloodline, contrasted sharply with his long, powerful legs, firm waist, and perfectly defined muscles. His physique was akin to that of a predatory leopard—sleek, elegant, and brimming with lethal power.

Upon his head rested the Double Crown of Egypt. His shoulder-length platinum hair cascaded in loose waves, some strands falling lazily from his shoulder to his chest, brushing against his full, faintly pink lips. Those icy blue eyes lowered slightly, lingering on the intricate royal pendant hanging around his long, slender neck.

A goddess once kissed his face.

His beauty was mesmerizing.

But no one dared confess their love to him.

For this Pharaoh was a bloodthirsty warlord and a tyrant, infamous across the lands. Ruthless, merciless, a harbinger of slaughter—he only smiled when he conquered nations and nailed their kings to their own thrones.

Of course, he smiled at other times too.

Mostly when torturing his nobles and ministers.

Even now, as he lounged lazily on his throne, propping his head up with one hand, his breathtaking beauty exuded an aura of bloodshed that made people tremble in fear.

"Your Majesty."

"Hmm?"

"Please, have mercy! It is the rainy season, and the slaves have caused trouble again. Many have perished, and despite replenishing our labor force, the Temple of the Moon God may still not be completed on schedule… I beg you, please grant us leniency!"

"So, you wish to delay the construction?"

The Pharaoh’s icy blue gaze shifted from his pet to his minister, sweeping over him with an emotionless stare.

Feeling the weight of the Pharaoh’s gaze, the minister—a man clad in a red tunic cinched at the waist, with a white robe draping down to his ankles—was drenched in cold sweat as he knelt on the ground.

The Pharaoh was Egypt’s absolute ruler.

He alone held the power over life, death, and the nation’s vast wealth. As the highest military commander, religious leader, and political authority, he was untouchable.

Even the Vizier, the head of all ministers, merely held supervisory and advisory powers. All decisions rested solely in the Pharaoh’s hands.

No one dared defy him.

And yet—

The minister clenched his fists and forced himself to speak. “Yes… I beg for Your Majesty’s mercy!”

"Hah."

Leaning lazily on his throne, the Pharaoh looked down at him. His cold, unreadable expression suddenly curled into a smile.

The minister’s heart turned to ice. He knew what that smile meant.

The other officials cast him looks of silent pity.

"Very well, I will grant you leniency."

The minister’s face lit up with hope, and he hastily raised his head—

Only to hear the Pharaoh continue, lips curving higher:

"You have—three hours."

“……”

The minister, face ashen, knelt back down.

Watching his despair, the man finally found some amusement. With cruel finality, he declared the meeting over and turned away without mercy, leaving the chamber with the high priest following closely behind.

The remaining ministers bowed their heads in respect, waiting until the king was far away before sighing and consoling their colleagues.

That evening.

A charming young girl filled the king’s goblet with fine wine before stepping back with the wine jug in hand.

The handsome and powerful man enjoyed the priceless wine and the lavish feast before him. Standing watch at his side, a certain high priest suddenly noticed his attendant silently approaching from outside. The attendant leaned in and whispered a few words into his ear. The priest furrowed his brows, signaled his understanding, and dismissed the servant.

This high priest, whose skin was a shade of light brown, stepped forward, coming to the king’s side and speaking in a low voice:

“Your Majesty, Muhansaf did not flee after returning. Instead, he gathered his trusted aides and subordinate officials to discuss how to survive this crisis.”

Muhansaf—the unlucky minister from the council meeting earlier.

The king did not pause his drinking, but the high priest knew he had heard him.

The high priest hesitated as he looked at the ruler of all Egypt. He did not immediately withdraw but instead spoke up again:

“Your Majesty, I do not understand why you are rushing to construct the Temple of Bastet within the palace during the rainy season.” There were already many temples dedicated to the moon goddess in the capital.

“Because it is a gift for him.”

As if recalling something, Pharaoh Yofar Memphis II lifted his full lips into a smile. In his ice-blue eyes, a rare warmth flickered.

The high priest: “……” I must be seeing things. How could my lord possibly wear such a gentle smile?!

A gift for him?

Who was he?

The meticulous and ever-vigilant High Priest Hesse was certain he had been guarding the Pharaoh at all times. He had never heard of the Pharaoh meeting anyone referred to as “him.”

“He has hair as dark as the night, an elegant and enchanting figure, and noble, shimmering green eyes. Compared to dull ministers, he is far more capable of stirring my interest.”

Dull Minister Hesse: “……”

The high priest frowned deeply. Though he had not yet seen this man favored by the Pharaoh, he already disliked him. To enchant the king to the point of disregarding his officials—how utterly outrageous! Such a man, possessing both beauty and cunning, and yet Hesse had never seen him in the palace?

Suppressing his irritation, the puzzled High Priest Hesse asked in a low voice:

“Your Majesty, may I ask for his name?”

The noble Pharaoh, Yofar Memphis II, glanced at him, his slender fingers tracing the rim of his goblet. A tiny droplet of red wine clung to his pale fingertip, its rich fragrance coating his skin. He chuckled softly.

“Bastet.”

Bastet…

But that was the name of the moon goddess, wasn’t it?

Could the man be a descendant of the priesthood?

The handsome Pharaoh had already finished his meal and stood up, announcing that he would go visit his beloved beauty, dismissing the high priests with a wave of his hand.

Serious, cautious, and ever-diligent, High Priest Hesse withdrew in deep confusion. Even as he walked back, he was still contemplating the matter.

When his colleague, the priestess Nephthys, saw his expression, she couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

Hesse scowled and rebuked her in a hushed voice:

“What are you laughing at, Nephthys? The king is showing favor to an unknown male consort, and you can still laugh?! Shouldn’t we be searching for this black-haired, green-eyed man together? Or better yet, following His Majesty? Who knows if this person is a spy?”

Nephthys sighed as she looked at him. “Hesse, sometimes I really wonder if you’ll turn into a stone from being so rigid.”

Hesse: “What do you mean?”

“Here’s a hint.” Nephthys smiled playfully. “In Egypt, the symbol of the moon goddess Bastet is—”

“A cat?”

Nephthys smirked at him teasingly. “That’s right~ Black fur, green eyes, and the ‘man’ who has completely bewitched the king… is currently in the royal treasury catching mice. Pfft—hahaha!”

Hesse: “……”

Nephthys: “What’s the matter, Hesse? Aren’t you going to stop him? Pharaoh is absolutely infatuated with petting a cat right now—this is the perfect time for you to intervene!”

Hesse: “……”

Stop Pharaoh from petting a cat?

Impossible. Hopeless.

All the senior priests knew—there was no chance of the Pharaoh ever quitting his obsession with cats in this lifetime.

With a blank expression, the male high priest turned and walked away, leaving his female colleague laughing ever more wildly behind him.

Hesse: …Scheming king, scheming colleague! I swear I’m resigning! Goodbye!

Nephthys: Hahaha!

___

Author’s Note:

First, let me clarify—coughs—Ancient Egypt was a highly advanced civilization. Compared to China of the same period, they were incredibly advanced in medicine, mathematics, and philosophy.

They also had mountains, water, and forests—it wasn’t all just desert.

Most of this story is fictional. Ancient Egyptian royals had various skin tones, including white, light brown, and eye colors like black, brown, blue, and green.

One specific setting: The tradition of shaving their heads and wearing wigs—I’ve removed it. I… just couldn’t get used to that custom.

As for Pharaoh’s self-address—after looking it up, I found that their way of speaking wasn’t overly complicated. They simply used “I.”

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