PSW Chapter 37: The Words You Spoke to Me Today
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"The people of Lower Egypt are truly unreliable. Ha, 'First Warriors'? Just a bunch of inexperienced monkeys who have never seen real battle or been baptized in blood."
"The royal capital is far away. It’s only natural that the lords of the major cities would have their own ambitions. The last assassination attempt was orchestrated by them. The road ahead will not be peaceful."
Abelieu and his trusted generals, including Breton, rode their horses close to the royal chariot. Beside them, Sok, due to his large stature, had chosen a particularly strong and sturdy horse to support his weight.
Hearing his companions' discussion, Sok asked in a deep voice, "Since we already know the people of Lower Egypt are unreliable, why are we making such a grand entrance? Wouldn’t it be better to come in secret?"
"Of course not," Breton explained patiently, his naturally villainous face wearing a smirk. "Sok, do you really think Upper Egypt doesn’t have spies planted by others? Those informants, both in the open and in the shadows, are as pervasive as the wormholes in dates."
"Our movements will be relayed by these spies to their masters. If the common people don’t know the King has arrived, those lurking in the dark will have a perfect excuse to say, ‘The King, while secretly traveling, was unfortunately ambushed by bandits or thieves and met an untimely end.’ At that point, not only foreign assassins seeking the King’s death but even the seemingly loyal ministers, remnants of fallen nations plotting revenge, and slaves dreaming of restoration wouldn’t miss this golden opportunity!"
Abelieu nodded, taking over the explanation. "They might even send troops openly, under the guise of eliminating a bandit group, and launch an attack on us. However, with the King arriving in Lower Egypt openly and legitimately, those with ulterior motives—who still have concerns—won’t dare to act rashly."
"I see..." Sok scratched the back of his head in frustration. "Can’t these guys just come at us head-on? All this scheming is so annoying!"
Abelieu and Breton burst into laughter, teasing him, "Ha, who would be foolish enough to fight you head-on? Not everyone is as simple-minded as you."
"Shut up! I’m not simple-minded! I’m a warrior! A warrior only needs to know how to fight and kill!"
Sok glared at them, his voice as loud as thunder. Abelieu held back his laughter, while Breton chuckled openly.
Their conversation was far from quiet. The entire troop, consisting of over six thousand soldiers brought from Upper Egypt, was made up of their own people. More reinforcements were expected to join them soon. If it weren’t already getting dark, they might have been even more relaxed.
On the other side, riding just as close to the royal chariot, were two high priests, their expressions equally casual as they discussed the upcoming assassination attempts as if they were simply deciding on dinner plans.
Nephthys remarked, "Our previous display was loud enough. The number of assassination attempts this time should be reduced by half."
Hesse replied, "Oh, I think the Book of the Dead might just be bait set by the enemy."
Nephthys nonchalantly dug a finger into her ear. "Be more confident. Remove 'might just be.' Also, the King foresaw this long ago."
Hesse sighed. "Nephthys, besides being a high priest, you’re also a woman. Can’t you be a bit more dignified?"
Nephthys smiled charmingly. "Hesse, haven’t you noticed? I only act this way around you."
"…"
The male high priest stiffened slightly. His expression shifted through a spectrum of emotions, as if going through an entire mental journey—'Why did she say that? Does she like me? How do I gently reject her?'—all in a matter of seconds.
Nephthys, enjoying the sight of his flustered reaction, grinned mischievously before adding, "Don’t overthink it. I just see you as a good sister, Hesse."
"…"
Nephthys burst into laughter. "Pfft, your mind, filled with romantic fantasies, and your stubborn, awkward personality—you're just like a lovelorn noblewoman who can’t have what she desires! Hahaha!"
"…"
Hesse, the 'lovelorn noblewoman,' clenched his staff tightly, his face darkened with rage. In his mind, a tiny version of himself was torn between quitting his job and bashing Nephthys over the head. Ultimately, he chose to urge his horse forward, leaving behind the image of a furious, straight-backed man burning with indignation.
Nephthys stayed behind, watching with delight.
Inside the grand and luxurious royal chariot, a tiny black paw, having had its fill of gossip, quietly retracted from the small window.
Within the spacious interior, the great black-furred feline stretched lazily, releasing its grip on the window ledge before curling up comfortably between the crossed legs of Yofar.
Its emerald-green eyes shimmered like a small jade lake reflecting the moonlight.
Yofar was drinking wine. From this deadly "girlfriend’s perspective," he was still so stunningly handsome that Bastet almost wanted to transform into a shameless rogue of the feline world.
The golden narrow-mouthed wine cup held dark red grape wine, and as the carriage gently swayed, the liquid rippled slightly, eventually wetting his full lips. When Yofar pursed his lips, a faint color stained them.
Bastet knew that Yofar never drank strong liquor, nor did he ever allow himself to get drunk. He disliked the idea of his mind being influenced or controlled by anything.
Mesmerized, Bastet softly meowed, "Meow?" — You knew from the start that the journey to find the Book of the Dead would be dangerous?
"Mm."
"Meow-aow." — And yet, you still came.
"Rather than fearing the thorns in the night, it’s better to uproot them in the light."
Yofar lowered his gaze, stroking Bastet’s belly while scratching its chin, his tone as cold and indifferent as always.
Bastet clicked its tongue. It was truly hard to imagine that this man, with such an expression and demeanor, was actually a ruthless and ambitious king.
Hesitating, Bastet meowed a few times to bring up the matter of the fat city lord. Yofar frowned slightly, the corners of his lips pressing down in confusion.
"Why shouldn’t I punish him?"
Bastet: ‘I’m just a cat…’
Yofar: "You are my cat."
Bastet: "…"
The little black ball of fluff’s eyes flickered, feeling a warmth spreading in its heart.
Yofar continued, "It doesn’t matter whether it was truly him or not—anyone who dares to offend the Pharaoh must be punished."
Bastet meowed in protest: ‘But isn’t he an important minister? Making him lose face over such a small matter might be excessive. What if he holds a grudge against you?’
After all, in the dramas it watched in its past life, that’s always how things played out.
"Why?" Yofar countered. "His loyalty or betrayal has nothing to do with this. If he chooses to betray me, then I will kill him when the time comes and grant him death."
‘But what if he remains loyal?’
"Then that is simply his duty."
"…"
"I am the Pharaoh of Egypt. Anyone who steps foot in Egypt belongs to me. I rule over their lives and deaths. Their only right is to kneel, submit, and dedicate everything to me."
"…"
The little black furball was left speechless, unable to comprehend.
Not being a native of ancient Egypt, Bastet could not fully grasp Yofar’s concept of royal authority, nor could it think from the perspective of either nobility or slaves.
It had read fragmented historical records before, but in an era where equality was the norm, what modern people considered "unfair" would have been insignificant in an ancient theocratic age. Back then, a priest’s casual prophecy could prompt a king to order the slaughter of an entire village.
There was no logic, no fairness, no human rights—not even the freedom to express one's own emotions.
The lives of the lower classes were like grains of sand. If they dirtied a noble’s banquet table, the noble might find them annoying. Let alone the King.
Even the common people of Egypt thought this way.
They were accustomed to obeying the throne and the temples, accustomed to being ruled. Even Hesse, who walked at the rear of the procession, was willing to sacrifice his life for Yofar, simply because protecting the Pharaoh was his duty.
In the past, Bastet had assumed such portrayals were exaggerated due to the influence of its modern survival instincts.
In its mind, kings had the power to decide life and death, but most still followed reason and the law. Yet after all it had experienced since arriving in this world—the royal menagerie, the palace banquets, the incidents in Lower Egypt—Bastet had started to suspect that Yofar's authority and perspective were even more extreme than it had imagined…
So am I the one who doesn’t belong in this era? The one with the strange way of thinking?
Bastet wondered if Yofar truly lacked feelings for anyone, caring only about his rule. Had he never truly held anyone in his heart…?
The mere thought of it made Bastet feel uneasy. Even though it was now a cat, it still saw itself as a person, a modern human being.
Besides, Bastet was sure the concern and respect it had seen in Yofar’s gaze weren’t fake.
Surely, even a king couldn’t control everything, right…?
The little black furball swished its tail restlessly, refusing to give up hope. It flicked its tail repeatedly, eyes filled with both uncertainty and anticipation, before calling out to the young and striking Pharaoh.
"Yofar."
Hearing its voice, Yofar resumed stroking its fur. His gaze was filled with warmth, which reassured Bes. It immediately asked: "When you speak of rule, does that include emotions? Do you think people treat you well only because you are the Pharaoh?"
For some reason, this question seemed to offend him.
The Pharaoh’s smile faded in an instant.
After a long pause, he finally replied, "Before I ascended the throne, I had nothing. After I became king, I had everything—wealth, status, power—of course, that includes emotions as well."
Thinking about those who had once mocked and pitied him, now kneeling at his feet, flattering him with smiles, Yofar felt that of course emotions were included.
"…"
"But—but—" The little black ball flipped over, propping itself up on its front paws and grabbing Yofar’s wine-holding arm, anxiously explaining, "I stayed with you not because you are Pharaoh! I sincerely wanted to be your friend!"
It had even considered them friends already.
"Friend?"
Yofar lowered his head, and their eyes met—one pair of dark feline eyes, one pair of icy blue ones, reflecting each other.
The little black cat nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes!"
"Bastet."
Yofar set down his wine cup and lifted the cat, bringing their faces close together. His gemstone-like blue eyes were crystal clear, free of shadows. He frowned slightly, as if struggling to understand the concept of friendship.
What Bastet didn’t know was that Yofar truly did not comprehend it.
He had gained power, and for the people and things he liked, his way of expressing affection was to grant them better things, higher status.
"Meow!" — I'm here!
Bastet looked at him with expectant, starry eyes. Even though it was a negative expression, on such a handsome face like Yofar’s, it carried a unique charm—almost creating an illusion.
Finally, Yofar gave his answer. He said:
“Aren’t you my pet?”
“……”
“You used to be very obedient, very good.” Yofar gently kissed the little black cat’s nose, his tone still tender. “Keep pleasing me, and I will continue to pamper you, letting you live a life free of worries.”
“……”
A pet… Uh, just a pet?
Bastet was dumbfounded, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, ice cubes knocking against his skull with a resounding thud-thud-thud, leaving him dazed.
So all this time, it was just my foolish one-sided feelings…
Crack.
A burning, passionate, innocent heart leaped off the rooftop of unreciprocated emotions, shattering into tiny pieces—so minced that with a little bit of green onion and oyster sauce, it could be used as dumpling filling.
With a heart as cold as ice, Lord Meow stared blankly at the man in front of him, who seemed to think his words were perfectly reasonable. Suddenly, Bastet felt like the tragic cannon fodder in a dramatic rich-family soap opera—the one who gets cheated on, replaced by a mistress, used like a disposable toy, and then tossed aside like a stain on the wall that won’t even come off.
For a moment, a classic line from a vengeful ghost sister echoed in his mind: “I hate this so much!”
He looked at Yofar’s gorgeous face, and rage surged within him, turning his resentment into action. Without realizing it, his claws biu-biu extended, sharp as blades.
The pitch-black cat’s emerald green eyes suddenly gleamed with a fierce light.
In Yofar’s eyes, Bastet pounced toward him like a flying black rag, smacking straight into his face.
“MEEOOOOWWW—”
Scumbag! Perish!!!
“Ugh!”
…
…
That day, the panicked, fleeing black cat was eventually captured after being chased down by thousands of people—at the furious command of the Pharaoh himself.
That day, the two high priests, who thought there was no real threat, and several of the Pharaoh’s closest guards personally witnessed their king—their divine, mesmerizing king—standing there with three neat little scratch marks on his forehead, looking like a child’s messy doodle…
From then on, the young and handsome Pharaoh of Egypt, with a face so dark that it seemed to drip ink, emanated a terrifying aura of murderous rage. When he arrived at the lower city, the old city lord—who was welcoming him with a smile but lacked the mental fortitude of a seasoned warrior—immediately collapsed to his knees with a thud.
___
[Author’s Note: Small Theater]
Bastet: The words you said to me today will be the flames that burn your future regret-filled love story to ashes! Ptui! Scumbag! Just wait till I turn human—I’m running away for sure!
Yofar: …
[Also, Yofar and Bastet are not yet fully at the ‘love’ stage. For Yofar, he likes Bastet—whether as a cat or as someone who understands him so well. But he truly hasn’t developed that kind of desire yet. As a king raised in an environment of absolute power, he still has a long way to grow. And Bastet too—his anger comes from a misunderstanding… After all, who wouldn’t be upset if a friend you thought was your closest bond (and maybe even had a little crush on) suddenly told you they never saw you as a friend—or even as a person? If it were me, pfft, I’d definitely punch them!]
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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