PSW Chapter 10: The New King and the Old Ministers
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The poor Vizier, Lekmara, was so nervous that even his words started slurring.
Yofar’s eyebrows arched higher and higher, his irritation visibly mounting—just as the high priest Hesse, on the verge of bursting a blood vessel, subtly signaled him to stop.
Hesse, radiating a dark aura: "It’s fine. Just keep talking."
After all, the king isn’t even really listening!
Relieved, Lekmara quickly blurted out the rest of his proposal:
"My king, therefore, I suggest making slight adjustments to the treatment of slaves and certain legal codes to temporarily appease the revolting ones."
Yofar’s hand paused mid-stroke.
Bastes, who had been doing his best to play along, promptly collapsed into the handmaiden’s lap, finally getting a break.
Seated below, now that he was at ease, Lekmara’s sharp, calculating demeanor returned. He lowered his head, awaiting the king’s decision.
The piercing blue eyes gazed at him, platinum-blond strands curling around the opulent gold ornaments adorning the king’s throat.
This young ruler—the only one in royal history to possess such cold, porcelain-white skin and an almost unnervingly beautiful face—slowly, ever so slowly, curled his full lips into a smile.
As the head of all ministers, the Vizier’s words essentially represented the will of the entire council—including, most likely, a certain priest standing behind him.
"I agree."
"I concur."
"So do I..."
One by one, the influential officials stepped forward in support, yet Yofar remained silent.
Behind him, Hesse frowned. Then, stepping down from the dais, he bowed his head and spoke:
"My king, the number of slaves has already exceeded the capacity of most major cities. If an uprising breaks out, Egyptian civilians will be the first to suffer from their attacks. I implore you to lessen the severity of the slave punishments!"
Yofar sat cross-legged on his cushioned throne, resting his chin against the back of his hand. His striking blue eyes darkened, his lips curling into a cold, chilling smile.
Oh, Hesse… Hesse…
On the king’s other side, Nephthys covered her face, exasperated.
Did you really think the king wouldn’t notice that you and the Vizier discussed this beforehand?
Yet you—a High Priest—dared to step down from your position and assume the stance of a political authority?
And you actually said "I implore you"?! "Severe"?!
Oh, well.
Nephthys sighed inwardly.
I used to think his brain was just filled with sacred scriptures and rigid doctrines—that he was a completely hopeless fool. But I was wrong. Hesse does have some redeeming qualities…
Like having an extra brain.
Or an extra life.
Below, Hesse and the ministers waited earnestly, firmly pressing the king for a decision.
But Yofar, seated on his throne, merely watched them with amusement, as if enjoying a play.
That devastatingly beautiful face carried a sinister smile, one that never quite reached his eyes.
Perhaps the tension in the air had grown so unbearable that even the little cat couldn’t stand it anymore.
Bastes, who had been lapping up milk from the bowl the handmaiden held for him, suddenly lifted his head.
A ring of milk froth clung to his mouth, and with his pink tongue, he delicately licked it off, his head bobbing slightly as he curiously peeked at the unfolding drama.
For a long while, Bastes kept watching.
And eventually, it did notice something.
For example, the group of people below… none of them seemed to be standing on its perverse master’s side.
Ah. How tragic.
Bastes, devoid of emotion, resumed licking its lips.
Finally, Yofar spoke.
His deep, husky voice, rich with lazy magnetism, drew out his words slowly:
"Do you all… think I would pity them?"
His voice was pleasant, very pleasant—but for some reason, Bastes felt that if it didn’t have fur, it would probably be covered in goosebumps by now.
The ministers below fell silent, as if struck dumb.
Hesse pressed his lips tightly together but said nothing.
"What’s wrong? Cat got your tongues?" Yofar chuckled lowly. "Or do you think… I would pity you?"
Would he?
Did this king even understand mercy?
The ministers, too afraid to speak, turned pale as ghosts, asking themselves the same question in their hearts.
Bastes, stealing a peek at Yofar, suddenly had an answer flash through its mind: No.
No pity for the slaves.
Their lives were nothing more than a handful of invisible dust.
No pity for the ministers.
If he wished for them to be as lowly as the slaves, then they would be as lowly as the slaves.
Damn.
Bastes clicked its tongue in its little feline heart and quickly withdrew its gaze from the terrifyingly oppressive king.
Pharaoh was indeed Pharaoh.
…He wouldn’t have noticed that I just stole a glance at his face, right? Probably… uh, hopefully…
Just as Bastes was deep in thought, that very king, still exuding killing intent to terrify his ministers, slowly raised a hand…
And made a flicking motion.
Bastes: "…"
…
Fine.
The little black cat expressionlessly pretended to be flicked on the nose and collapsed dramatically into the handmaiden’s arms.
"Ahhh~", it half-heartedly whined.
*"Oh noooo, so painful~"._
Yofar’s deep blue eyes flickered with something, and his smirk deepened.
Watching the whole scene from the sidelines,
Nephthys: "…"
Why did this remind her of young lovers sneaking flirtations during a lecture?
The more she thought about it, the more she actually started sensing a whiff of romance in the air.
Horrified by her own thoughts, Nephthys shook herself out of it, stood up straight, and fixed her eyes on Hesse below as if she had seen nothing.
Hesse, realizing Yofar’s tone held no approval, suddenly lifted his head, his brows tightly knitted. A deep crease formed at the center of his forehead as he solemnly called out:
"My king! Please—"
"Hesse."
Yofar cut him off.
He sat up straight, the lavish jewelry adorning his body jingling softly with the movement.
"If you are as foolish as them…" His icy gaze locked onto Hese. "Then you do not deserve the position of High Priest."
"!!!"
"Go reflect in the temple within the royal city."
Yofar’s voice carried down like an unshakable verdict.
"You will not leave unless I allow it."
What…?
A veiled banishment?!
Hese’s eyes widened in disbelief, his tanned face visibly paling.
His lips trembled, but he couldn’t utter a single word.
The other ministers, already kneeling, also bowed even lower, their faces equally ashen.
Bastes lazily flicked its tail.
Wow.
One sentence, and he insulted both sides at once.
Yofar, having said his piece, rose from the throne and strode away.
When he reached the handmaiden holding Bastes, he casually lifted a white cloth nearby and wrapped it around the little cat before picking it up in his arms.
He never once looked back at Hesse or the officials.
Nephthys followed behind.
At the door, she glanced back at Hesse’s stiff, rigid back, let out a sigh, then turned forward and walked on.
Ahead, Yofar’s long legs covered great distances with each step.
He held Bastes tightly, too tightly—so much so that the heavy golden ornaments hanging from his neck pressed against the cat’s face, making it painfully uncomfortable.
"Mrow, mrow, mrow!"
—Damn it! Are you trying to murder me?!
Bastes swiped its little paw at Yofar’s chest several times.
"Little one,"
Yofar’s cold smile softened.
Through the soft cloth, he gently caught the restless paw, rubbing his thumb against the tender pink pads.
His gaze lowered, unusually warm, framed by long platinum eyelashes.
Bathed in sunlight, he looked like something out of a divine masterpiece.
"If you keep misbehaving," he murmured, "I’ll bite your paw pads."
…
From Bastes’ perspective, this sounded less like a threat and more like he was about to kiss it.
A deep, passionate, French kiss.
Bastes instantly blushed.
Overwhelmed. Suffocating. Let me die in this man’s chest, please!
Yofar, a walking world-class painting:
"Bear with me for a little while, won’t you?"
Bastes, suddenly bashful, curled up into a neat little ball.
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"What about this pose? Do you like it, Your Majesty?"
The sheer speed of its attitude shift… unrivaled in the history of face-value fanatics.
Bastes: "So what if I’m a shameless beauty-worshipper?"
"In a beauty-worshipper’s world, things are simple and pure!"
The little black cat nestled obediently in his embrace, its bright green eyes shimmering.
So easily, so effortlessly, it had soothed the still-smoldering fury in the king’s heart.
Yofar’s expression softened even further.
This time, without the fabric as a barrier, he curled his finger and lightly tapped the tip of Bès’ damp little nose.
"Bastes, you’re adorable."
"Mrow~"
Oh~ My dear heavens.
Bastes was completely enchanted, its very soul hooked away, staring dazedly as drool began to drip.
Trailing behind, Nephthys’ eyelid twitched.
…Here it comes!
That same overwhelming "shameless couple flaunting their love right before my eyes" feeling was back again!
Wrapped in the embrace of a king-level masterpiece, Bastes was carried all the way to an unfamiliar place.
Curious, it poked its head out for a look around.
It noticed that there were very few handmaidens here—and those present all stood near the pillars, their heads lowered so much that Bès began to worry if they all suffered from severe neck problems.
Other than that, the only furniture in the room was a low table at the front, piled high with stacks of parchment.
The rest was purely ornamental.
Spacious, luxurious— a room practically piled high with gold.
Bastes smacked its lips and finally tore its gaze away from a particularly gaudy vase, one encrusted with red and yellow gemstones.
Admiring the raw yet intricate aesthetic of Ancient Egypt, the little cat couldn’t help but be filled with deep appreciation.
At the doorway, a row of royal guards stood neatly at attention outside, sealing off the entrance behind them.
In an instant, the only people left in the grand chamber—aside from the statue-like handmaidens—were Yofar, seated on the lone low seat, and Nephthys.
Bastes: Forget it. I don’t count as a person anyway.
Yofar’s fingers were long and elegant, their bone structure delicate yet defined.
He carefully tucked the wrapped-up Bastes into a small, cozy nest between his folded legs.
Bastes, ever the clever little thing, curled up obediently, lazily yawning before snuggling in to sleep against its insanely twisted master.
Before long, the soft rustling of papyrus filled the quiet room.
It was the sound of Yofar flipping through the mountain of accumulated reports on the table.
Sigh… Being a king doesn’t seem that great after all.
Even high school students don’t get this much homework.
Being a cat is still the best…
With that comforting thought, Bastes purred in contentment.
Aside from the whispering sheets of papyrus, the room remained completely silent—
Until Nephthys suddenly spoke.
She said, “My King, Hesse holds no disloyalty in his heart.”
“He is merely a rigid man who sought to quell the slave uprisings before they became a greater threat to Egypt.
But he failed to choose the right method.”
She hesitated, then continued, “Even if you plan to deal with the other ministers, perhaps when it comes to Hesse…”
“You think I was excessive?”
Yofar’s voice was icy, devoid of warmth.
“…Yes.”
Nephthys let out a quiet sigh.
“Forgive my offense.”
“Your plan is flawless.”
“Compared to the former king, I am immensely fortunate to serve under you—our ‘ruthless’ sovereign.”
“But even if Hesse was part of the old regime…
Please grant him at least a shred of dignity.”
“……”
Oh?
What’s this? A hidden story?
Bastes, who hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet, twitched its ears.
Suddenly wide awake, it peeked open a narrow slit of its glowing green eyes, eager to eavesdrop.
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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