PSW Chapter 32: Call It Something Nicer
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The next day, they were still on the boat. Hesse said they would not reach Lower Egypt until evening.
From early morning, however, Yofar, as Pharaoh, had to undergo a meticulous routine—bathing and cleansing under the service of maids, dressing in heavy and elaborate garments, and having his makeup carefully applied.
In ancient Egypt, from commoners to nobles, from women to men, everyone had a deep love for cosmetics.
Eyeliner, eyeshadow, eyebrows, fragrant balms, perfumes, and scented ointments…
As high priests, both Hesse and Nephthys applied long, meticulously drawn eyeliner daily, with peacock-green or slightly darker eyeshadow extending evenly to the tips of their brows.
Beards and eyebrows had strict grooming regulations and needed to be carefully trimmed. Their robes were usually white, washed to crisp perfection, and infused with a pleasant, non-overpowering fragrance.
Whenever Bastet passed by them, it couldn't help but take a deep sniff.
In Egypt, even commoners had to undergo complex morning grooming rituals, let alone the nobility.
For any important occasion or event, rows of beautiful and skillful maids would spend an entire afternoon perfecting a noble’s makeup and styling their attire.
Even the choice of perfume was carefully selected based on the noble's age, preferences, and clothing colors.
It could be said that in the thousands of years of Egypt’s brilliant civilization, aside from its remarkable achievements in astronomy, medicine, mathematics, law, and architecture, it also possessed an extraordinary talent for beauty.
A culture that revered strength yet pursued the finest details of life.
Even if someone was fierce on the battlefield, hammering enemies with unstoppable force, it didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy some scented oils and eyeliner after work…
Of course, there were those who loved makeup, those who were indifferent, and those who absolutely loathed it—but had no choice but to wear it.
For example, Yofar.
Bastet yawned lazily, watching the maids move with trembling hands, trying their best to keep their composure as they applied makeup to the Pharaoh’s stern, ice-cold face.
They were professional, but professionalism was no shield against the killing intent that seeped through the air.
Sure enough, as Yofar shifted his gaze slightly, unintentionally sweeping his eyes over a particular maid, she shuddered so hard that her hand trembled, leaving a wildly curving, ocean-wave-like stroke of eyeliner across his eyelid.
Yofar: “…”
His already strikingly handsome face darkened, nearly blending into Bastet’s black fur. The maid’s face turned pale as a sheet, and she looked on the verge of collapsing to her knees.
Yofar frowned, waved a hand impatiently. “Continue.”
“Thank you for your mercy! Thank you for your mercy!”
Thinking she was doomed, the maid wiped away her tears and quickly resumed her work, carefully holding the brush steady.
The pitch-black feline, still sprawled lazily on a cushion, let out a series of chuckles at Yofar’s expense.
Yofar turned slightly, arching a cold, sharp brow.
“Bastet.”
“Oinkk~” What do you want, you fluffy tyrant?
His gaze was sharp as a blade, but Bastet lay relaxed, flicking its tail tip leisurely, completely unbothered.
“Stop making sounds like a pig.”
“…”
“If you don’t meow properly, I’ll deduct your food rations.”
“…”
Fine.
Bastet gritted its teeth, let out one last rebellious "oink" before begrudgingly meowing in a rather perfunctory manner.
‘There. Happy now, oh great one?’
“Much better.”
Yofar’s lips curved into a smile.
With his cold, pale complexion, platinum-blond hair, and nearly translucent lashes, the golden-brown eyeliner applied to him had been specially chosen for a softer contrast.
When he lifted his eyelids, his icy blue eyes shimmered like gemstones, framed by thick lashes that fluttered like golden butterfly wings. The eyeliner enhanced his sharp, elegant eye shape, creating a mesmerizing, seductive curve.
Normally, his beauty carried an air of cold, untouchable authority. But when he smiled…
It was lethally attractive.
Bastet only glanced at him once before immediately looking away, feeling slightly annoyed.
Damn it! Smiling is one thing, but why did he have to be so damn alluring about it?
Just because I’m a cat doesn’t mean you can tease me like this!
You think I won’t show you how serious I can get?
After experiencing an unexpected bout of fluttering emotions the day before, Bastet had spent the whole night reflecting on its current stage of life.
As a cat with a human-like mind, it had never been entirely sure of its exact age.
Originally, Bastet estimated itself to be around five or six months old—mainly because it had been teething at the time. Now, two months had passed, meaning it was probably around seven or eight months old…
Egyptian temple cats were selected from ancient native breeds, growing slightly smaller than caracals, with long, slender bodies and sleek, jet-black fur without a single stray hair.
Their eyes were usually a bright, gemstone-like green, and they were known to feed on venomous snakes.
Bastet, having never actually owned a cat before, wasn’t entirely sure about feline biology. However, it did know that most cats had their first heat cycle around six months old.
But acting on instinct too early was bad—ideally, cats should wait until they were at least a year and a half.
For larger, ancient breeds like itself, full maturity would take closer to two years.
After carefully thinking it through, Bastet understood.
Basically, this was like going through puberty all over again.
Like a 13- or 14-year-old boy waking up one day and realizing that, aside from playing in the dirt, he could now start thinking about other things.
Before, he only wanted to tug on a girl’s ponytail to annoy her. Now, even talking to her made his face heat up.
But just because the hardware was in place didn’t mean the software was ready.
In simpler terms—Bastet was still too young.
Early romance wasn’t a good idea.
Bastet stared at the sky in despair, thinking: Should I look for a cat or a human in the future? The former doesn’t match my soul, and the latter doesn’t match my body size.
Sigh.
Might as well accept my fate of dying alone. That suits me. Whimper, whimper.
The title of "Grandmaster of Singledom" from his past life had somehow carried over into this one. Bastet was so moved he could cry.
Yofar had been watching him ever since he finished his eye makeup. When he noticed the little black fluff ball curling up unhappily and looking all dejected, he assumed Bastet was getting restless and bored of staying in the room.
So he said, “Bastet, if you don’t like staying here, you can go find Sok and the others.”
“Meow~” No, that’s not it.
After replying, Bastet suddenly remembered that he had made plans to go fishing with Sok.
So he meowed a few more times: Oh right, we made plans to go fishing. I really do need to head out.
Yofar nodded, signaling that he understood.
Seeing that his servant had no objections, Bastet stood up, stretched his front paws forward, spread his little toe beans, and arched his back. While stretching lazily, he scratched the soft cushion twice. Then, after fully loosening up his muscles, he bounced out the door.
Yofar, watching from behind, kept his eyes on Bastet until the tip of his tail disappeared through the doorway. Only then did he slowly close his eyes.
When Bastet reached the deck, he immediately spotted the massive figure of Sok, who was standing alone on one side. Meanwhile, on the other side of the ship, the intimidating Abelieu and his group were standing together, smiling as they whispered among themselves while watching Sok’s back.
Bastet trotted over and leaped onto one of the round posts at the ship’s edge.
“Meow!” Hey, Sok! I’m here!
Sok spun around abruptly, staring at Bastet in disbelief. “You really came? Hah! I thought you weren’t going to show up.”
“Meow~” Of course! Bastet lowered his head, curiously eyeing the thin line in Sok’s hand, which extended into the river below.
“Meow!” Are you fishing?!
"Yes."
Sok scratched the back of his head, his laughter rumbling like thunder. He said, "This is just a fishing line from a net. I tied a tiny piece of meat at the end—there’s nothing else. This is the only way I can fish right now."
"Abelieu and the others said it wouldn’t work. Those guys… well, I’ll do it myself!" Sok turned back to make a mocking gesture at Abelieu and his group, earning a round of good-natured laughter from the men. Then he sighed and looked at Bastet again. "Maybe they have a point. The ship is moving too fast, and I don’t have the right tools. But I promised to catch a fish for you…"
Bastet flicked his tail against Sok’s arm—a reassuring pat. "Meow~" It’s fine. There’s always next time.
Sok’s eyes brightened, and he nodded firmly. "I’ll wait a little longer. Maybe one will bite soon."
"Meow." Alright.
A man and a cat sat together, chatting idly as they waited for a fish to take the bait.
Gradually, the ship’s speed slowed. The Pharaoh’s personal guards and attendants emerged onto the deck. In the distance, the once boundless river narrowed, revealing the approaching land and port, where flags fluttered and crowds gathered.
"I have to go…" Sok let go of the line with a sigh, watching it sink into the river. He looked disappointed. "We’ve arrived. I need to join Abelieu and the others to protect the king."
His voice was heavy. He was bigger and taller than most men, and Bastet could tell—Sok was not the sharpest thinker, but he was a good person.
"Meow~"
It’s okay. Bastet reassured the big guy. Companionship is far more important than a fish.
"Meow." Besides, I think we’re friends now. Even though I’m a cat, do you mind being friends with me?
Sok immediately shook his head. "Of course not! My hunting dogs—Aibei, Shate—they’re my family!" His mood lifted as he spoke, and he leaned in conspiratorially, whispering, "And now, there’s you too. We’re friends. Haha, I finally found a cat that isn’t afraid of me—and not just any cat, but the cat god!"
"I’m gonna brag to Abelieu about this!" Sok declared. "Those bastards only have women on their minds!"
Bastet couldn’t help but laugh.
"Hey, Sok—!" Breton called out, waving from afar, urging him to hurry.
Sok stretched his neck back and shouted, "I know!" Then, he turned to Bastet, grinned, and waved before running off to join his comrades.
Bastet leaped down from the column and trotted toward the ship’s cabin.
Yofar had already told Bastet to stay close to Nephthys.
As Bastet slipped into the cabin, a procession of maids and guards was emerging, surrounding the central figure—Yofar.
The moment Bastet looked up at him, it paused.
Even though Bastet was well aware of Yofar’s striking looks, it still found itself momentarily stunned.
He was wearing the same golden armor Bastet had seen before, but this time, his cloak was white. The ancient, ornate gold ornaments on him jingled softly with his movements, and the fiery red sunset cast a glow over his face.
His platinum-blond hair rested smoothly over the white cloak. One hand held a scepter, the other gripped a sword. Upon his head, the red-and-white double crown symbolized his unmatched sovereignty.
The exposed skin beyond his armor was pale as snow, his features so stunningly flawless that they seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. The golden-brown eyeliner traced his long, narrow eyes, lifting at the outer corners, giving him an air of both beauty and untouchable ferocity.
Perhaps due to his distaste for makeup, the only other enhancement was a faint touch of blue eyeshadow at the outer corners of his eyes, subtly echoing the icy blue of his irises. As for the rest…
Bastet’s gaze lingered on his lips, blinking slowly before looking away.
Yofar had probably applied some kind of balm to them.
It looked… quite nice, Bastet thought.
Dressed in full regalia, Yofar was—how to put it? The jewelry and makeup made him even more dazzling, yet at the same time, it was entirely natural, without the slightest hint of femininity.
His long legs and firm, decisive stride left no room for hesitation. He moved with absolute purpose, each step brimming with power—like a predator advancing toward its prey.
It felt as if, at any moment, he could suddenly lunge forward, draw his sword, and take someone’s head in one swift motion.
Bastet had read plenty of novels where protagonists were described as exuding an aura of dominance so strong it made others tremble. Back then, Bastet never quite believed it.
Now, it understood.
Art truly imitates life.
Some people are 1.9 meters tall, but their presence feels like 9.1 meters!
At that moment, amidst the sea of people, the man at the center of it all suddenly stopped.
Even with countless heads between them, his gaze locked onto the small black cat sitting on the floor with uncanny precision.
His brows, prone to furrowing when displeased, twitched ever so slightly—an expression of silent urging, perhaps even a mild rebuke.
Bastet immediately knew—its caretaker was not pleased.
Without hesitation, it transformed into a bootlicking court eunuch, wagging its tail and meowing obsequiously: "Your Majesty, this humble servant is here~"
It scampered over at once, only to be scooped up into Nephthys’ arms with a soft chuckle.
Yofar’s brows smoothed. He turned slightly, as if intending to pet Bastet, but in the end, he didn’t look back and simply continued forward.
The ship docked.
The noise from the harbor was a constant hum. Below, crowds gathered to catch a glimpse of the "Conquering King."
Yet, as they finally disembarked, the densely packed Egyptian citizens collectively gasped.
Not a single sound followed.
The Pharaoh—such a strikingly handsome and valiant Pharaoh.
To them, he was a god on earth, the center of all attention.
And the moment Yofar raised his hand, the dead silence shattered.
The very people who had just been covering their mouths in awe burst into unified, electrifying cheers, shouting words like "King" and "Conquering King."
Unsurprisingly, the loudest voices came from the women.
Their cries of admiration and excitement were so intense that Bastet nearly leaped out of Nephthys’ arms in fright!
The royal guards gripped their weapons tightly, working to hold back the eager crowd, while Abelieu, Sok, and the others remained on high alert, their eyes scanning for any threats.
Amid the thunderous cheers that pierced the sky, several older, slightly plump men dressed in standard noble attire pushed their way through the crowd. Behind them followed priests and religious officials, their presence signifying the gravity of the moment.
The soldiers accompanying them softly reprimanded the crowd, urging them to remain silent.
As soon as these men reached Yofar, they immediately prostrated themselves on the ground, pressing their lips to the earth before his feet.
"O brave and fearless King, who brings the will of the sun god Ra to Lower Egypt! You have finally arrived. The people of Lower Egypt revere you beyond measure, they admire you, and they long for your divine radiance to shine upon every loyal subject under your rule!"
___
[Author's Notes: (Mini Theater)]
Bastet: Why?! Yofar gets to be so handsome, and I’m not even human! I’m just lying here like a corpse, hmph!
Clueless Author (furiously typing): Fine, fine, I’ll arrange something for you! Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen, ancestor.
Bastet: Hehe, now that’s more like it.
Clueless Author (muttering): Just wait till I write some steamy scenes… Let’s see how you handle that, hehe…
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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