PSW Chapter 11: I Won’t Get Jealous!
| Previous | Table of Contents | Next |
Yofar and Nephthys talked a lot.
He flipped through the somewhat rough pages—at least in the eyes of Bastet, a person from the future—using one hand. After going through a portion, he would pause to pick up a pigment-stained pen with his left hand and write something on them.
His ice-cold eyes never left the reports, yet he organized his words quickly, conversing with Nephthys smoothly, discussing matters that weren’t even in the reports. His ability to multitask was terrifying!
No—perhaps it was even three tasks at once.
Because the only reason he used his left hand was that his right hand, covered in soft linen, was gently stroking Bastet’s back.
Occasionally, he would scratch Bastet’s chin, making the little creature arch its head and squint its eyes in pleasure, purring uncontrollably. However, Yofar rarely reached between Bastet’s hind legs to touch its belly.
That was because the soft linen wasn’t enough to fully cover his hand. If he rubbed the belly, the surrounding fur would inevitably stick to his skin. And Bastet had personally witnessed what happened when Yofar’s hand came into contact with its fur—his entire hand would turn red in an instant, covered in small bumps.
At those times, the maids would rush over, keenly aware of their duties yet terrified, carefully holding the esteemed ruler of Egypt’s hand, wiping it with damp cloths, applying ointment.
Even so, his hand would still show that unbearably itchy allergic reaction for at least an hour.
The first time Bastet saw this scene, it was utterly shocked. But when it looked at Yofar’s indifferent expression, as if he felt nothing at all, it couldn’t help but admire him. After all, when Yofar came to the city walls to feed it before, he almost always had to pet it.
Itching doesn’t kill.
But itching is pure torment.
When Bastet was alive, mosquito bites would drive it crazy. It knew scratching wouldn’t help, but it still couldn’t resist scratching until it bled, carrying dark scars into winter.
Let alone an itch like this—this maddening, unbearable sensation!
Handling national affairs while petting a cat without getting fur on his skin, all while discussing serious matters with Nephthys… Holy crap! When you really think about it, its insane master was practically a god!
Cat lovers are all ruthless! Respect!
“The old king? Fools are never surrounded by wise men. A bunch of drunken ministers, their brains soaked in wine, already half-dead from intoxication, and they think they can restrain me after his death?”
Yofar’s pale fingers held the ink-stained pen as he reviewed the documents, his cool voice laced with sarcasm. “They contribute nothing to the lands I conquered, yet they want a share of my spoils? Hah, a pack of hyenas.”
“Hyenas have their uses. They can help a great king drive away certain pests that think too highly of themselves. Of course…” Nephthys’s beautiful face held a gentle smile, her words carrying a deeper meaning. “But those without even teeth are simply deadweight that needs to be cleaned up.”
Nephthys was suggesting that not all of the old ministers needed to be dealt with.
Yofar, however, gave no response. Bastet could sense the chilling killing intent when Yofar mentioned the ‘old king’ and ‘ministers.’ Even his hand, which had been stroking Bastet’s back, paused for a few seconds.
Nephthys was extremely clever. She had followed Yofar for a long time. Ever since he was still a prince, this sharp-witted woman had staked everything on him. Because of that, she could easily tell when he was displeased.
Without hesitation, Nephthys changed the topic.
“No need to worry, my esteemed lord.”
She said, “The talents you once favored, along with the individuals I have selected, have all been trained. They swear undying loyalty to you, and I have gradually placed them in various positions, ready to replace those you no longer need at any time.”
“These people are younger, and their thinking aligns better with the current Egypt.”
She gestured, and her silent attendant stepped forward from the corner, presenting a list to Nephthys. Nephthys then handed it over to Yofar.
“The list is here, my king. Please review it.”
Yofar took the list, scanned it swiftly, and then revealed a satisfied expression. “You did well, Nephthys. As expected of the High Priest’s descendant.”
Hearing this, Nephthys smiled brilliantly. Holding her staff in one hand, she knelt on one knee before Bastet’s wide, astonished feline eyes, lifted the hem of Yofar’s robe, and kissed it. “Thank you for your praise, my esteemed lord.”
After kissing the fabric, she remained in that posture and even winked at Bastet.
As if to say: Are you jealous, little one?
Bastet: “……”
Bastet (╬`皿′): No, I am NOT!
Nephthys stifled a laugh: It’s so adorable!
Multitasking as always, Yofar caught this scene in the corner of his eye. His strokes along Bastet’s fur became gentler, and the corners of his lips subtly curved downward…
Sensing that the king had stopped exuding his usual icy aura, this poised, beautiful, and dignified (at least in appearance) woman became certain—Yofar truly liked this little black cat.
Having tested the waters and obtained the answer she wanted, Nephthys quickly straightened up and resumed discussing their upcoming plans with Yofar.
Perhaps intentionally, she started revealing information that Bastet hadn’t known before—especially when she noticed Bastet sneakily eavesdropping.
For example, most of Egypt’s ministers still served from the previous king’s reign.
The old king had been an extremely superstitious, dim-witted, short-sighted, and cowardly ruler. He had inherited a strong Egypt from his predecessor, yet in less than twenty years, he had allowed the country to be crushed under the feet of foreign powers.
To the point where he had to repeatedly marry off princesses and offer extravagant tributes of gold and jewels just to maintain peace.
And as for how he had treated Yofar… no one really knew. But when the old king was finally about to have war brought to his very doorstep, Yofar had personally slain the feeble, aging ruler along with his other royal sons. He had even spared no mercy for his own mother.
The royal family was wiped out, leaving only himself and two princesses alive!
Even knowing how rotten royal families had always been—full of filth and treachery—what kind of hatred must it take to go that far?!
Bastet felt a shiver down its spine. It could only imagine how Yofar appeared in the eyes of those ministers—a ruthless demon, a bloodthirsty executioner!
And yet, he was indeed a formidable warrior. When Egypt had nearly been reduced to a carcass ready to be picked apart under the old king, Yofar had swiftly cut through the decay, eradicating his own family.
Within three days of taking the throne, he had personally led his army to war—and won every battle!
Not only had he restored Egypt’s former glory, but he had also devoured countless enemy states. His ruthless treatment of prisoners and foreign nobles became so infamous that people trembled at the mere mention of his name!
When not on the battlefield, this young, strikingly handsome yet terrifyingly cruel king returned to his throne. Gazing upon his vast dominion, he smiled.
Meanwhile, the ministers who had once followed their weak, indulgent former king were like rats peeking out of their holes after a storm.
The terrified ministers: The royal family has been almost wiped out! Enemies are at our doorstep! Run! Run for your lives…
Then, when Yofar returned victorious to the capital—
The ministers: Wait? We won?! The new king won?! Hold on—why should we let this bloodthirsty man rule? Did we even agree to this?!
Now that the immediate threat was gone, the ministers straightened their backs, rolled up their sleeves, and prepared to challenge Yofar.
Open defiance wasn’t an option, so they resorted to sabotage instead. When given royal orders, they responded with smiles: Oh, dear king, it’s not that we don’t wish to carry them out—we simply can’t…
How could a king rule a nation without ministers?
They thought they had him cornered. What could the new king do about it?
And so, the very next day, every single one of these scheming ministers was found dead in their homes—each one poisoned by snake venom.
Yofar merely pressed his seal onto the reports and stated indifferently, “Death by snakebite is hardly unusual in Egypt.”
The surviving ministers: ……
Yes, it was true. Countless people died from snake bites in Egypt every year.
But for seven or eight of them to die overnight?! And all of them just happened to be the most outspoken rebels?!
How the hell did those snakes know to bite them and no one else?!
You’re telling me snakes can tell the difference between a minister and a royal relative?! Even ghosts wouldn’t believe that!
What the hell do you mean not unusual?!
It was obvious who was behind this!
This blatant threat left the surviving ministers both furious and terrified, wishing they could drive a sword straight through Yofar’s heart.
But Yofar was even more ruthless—his words carried only one message: Not satisfied? Then die!
Everyone: “……”
What choice do we have? We submit, of course…
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
Comments
Post a Comment