PSW Chapter 44: Trade What You Want—for You

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🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

Sok twitched his nose, sniffing the air. "There's no mistake. This is definitely the scent of a cat. My nose is the best—I can recognize every hunting dog I own just by their scent!"

He shoved Az aside without hesitation, then grabbed Bastet by the collar, lifting him up with one hand. With absolute certainty, he shouted toward the back, "Abelieu! Breton! Master, I found him! He smells like Bastet! They must be the thieves!"

"Really?" Breton questioned out loud, but his face lit up with delight—he had absolute faith in Sok’s nose.

Abelieu sneered and unsheathed his curved sword as he walked over. "Didn’t expect this, huh, little thing? You’re the one who made us chase you all the way out here."

"Damn thieves!"

The strong cavalrymen pinned Az to the ground, restraining him with ease.

Az was terrified, but he didn’t struggle. He might’ve been able to break free from one or two people, but there were nearly a hundred of them—there was nowhere to run!

It’s over. It’s over… Az felt like crying. He should have listened to his master and never taken a noble’s job. Now he was really going to die.

Meanwhile, Bastet was hoisted by his collar, forced onto his tiptoes with his head tilted back. His heart cried even harder than Az’s, especially when he saw Yofar striding toward them with long, determined steps—like Moses parting the Red Sea.

That familiar face, but with such a cold, unfamiliar gaze.

Bastet's heart plunged into ice water, only to be ripped out and stomped on.

His chest ached with bitterness. He even felt ridiculous for feeling this way.

So what?

He told himself, "It’s not like he ever cared about me. He was going to starve me to death anyway."

"If I just stop liking him, then why should I feel bad?"

Bastet pretended not to care, but his reddish lips tensed into a thin line. His throat tightened, and he quickly looked away.

Sok grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, as he proudly declared, "King, look! I caught the thief who stole Bastet!"

"Mm. Well done."

Yofar’s low, husky voice carried an uncharacteristic trace of warmth.

Bastet kept his head down, refusing to look at him.

His clothes and armor rustled. Before he could react, Sok suddenly released him.

Then—someone grabbed his wrist.

Just like that—he was lifted off the ground, dangling in mid-air like a rabbit caught by its ears.

"Agh! It hurts!"

Bastet was too small, and Yofar was too tall.

His entire body hung in the air, and the arm being held let out a sickening crack as it bore the full weight of his body.

"M-My hand…"

Cold sweat broke out across his forehead as pain shot up his arm. His feet kicked helplessly, his free hand clawing at Yofar’s grip.

"It hurts…!"

Bastet sucked in a sharp breath.

For the first time, he realized just how strong Yofar really was—he could effortlessly lift him with just one hand.

Then, the man's left hand—wrapped in cold, rigid armor and gloves—gripped Bastet’s soft cheeks, squeezing them tight.

The pressure distorted Bastet’s cute face into a ridiculous goldfish pout. His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of leather gloves from Yofar’s palm.

Forced to endure the pain, Bastet's furrowed brows knotted together tightly, and in that moment, his gaze met Yofar’s icy, almost sinister stare.

It had been less than ten days, but after enduring those five unbearable days trapped in a cage, it felt like a century had passed.

Emerald-green pupils met frosty blue eyes once again.

Unfamiliar—yet familiar.

Bastet inhaled deeply through his ridiculous, squished mouth, afraid his heart might jump out of his chest and smack Yofar in the face.

"You have one chance."

Yofar’s voice was cold and indifferent, treating him as if he were nothing more than a stranger—no, less than a stranger.

"Tell me where the stolen cat is. If your answer does not satisfy me, I will kill you and ask your companion instead."

Bastet: "……"

He had no idea what he was supposed to feel after hearing those words.

His mind was blank except for one thought, repeated over and over:

"He didn’t recognize me."

Of course. Of course…

Who would ever guess that their pet cat had turned into a person?

But what surprised Bastet even more was that Yofar asked about him first—not the Book of the Dead.

Could it be… he came all this way to take me back?

Bastet immediately mocked himself:

"As if! He literally tried to starve me to death. And now he came for me? Ha! Bastet, you’ve got some nerve!"

"You think you even deserve that?"

Bastet ruthlessly stomped on his own fragile self-esteem and emotions, trampling them into the dirt until nothing remained.

Then, with a trembling breath, he locked eyes with Yofar and gritted his teeth as he spat out his answer—one word at a time:

"First—I don’t know any cat named Bastet."

"Second—I don’t believe that cat belongs to you."

Because I’ve decided I will never again entrust my feelings to someone who can hurt me so easily.

"Third—may you never, ever find it!"

Kill me if you dare!

"………"

The entire area fell silent.

Sok, Abelieu, and the others froze, momentarily stunned by Bastet’s blatant death wish.

Then their faces twisted with rage, and they immediately reached for their weapons, ready to cut this insolent fool into pieces for daring to be so disrespectful to their king!

But—

Yofar, who was still holding Bastet by the face, merely glanced sideways.

His gaze, as sharp as a jewel’s edge, swept toward Sok and Abelieu—and that single glance alone was enough to stop them in their tracks.

At the same time, his eyes shifted back to Bastet’s ridiculous, puffed-up face.

His gloved fingers loosened slightly, trailing down from Bastet’s cheeks to his jawline.

The stiff edges of his leather gloves brushed against Bastet’s skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

When his fingers reached Bastet’s sensitive neck, the unexpected ticklish sensation made Bastet shrink back instinctively.

Yofar lowered his head, turning his face slightly toward Bastet’s neck, his straight nose nearly brushing against his skin.

Bastet felt warm breath escape from Yofar’s nostrils, swirling around his neck and tickling the tiny white hairs at the nape.

A tingling sensation shot down his spine, making his tailbone prickle.

Icy blue eyes carefully observed the little creature’s every reaction—

His words, his expressions, his scent…

Everything about him…

Was exactly like that skittish, fierce, pitch-black little monster from Yofar’s memories.

Yofar’s blue eyes flickered.

Then, his lips curled slightly.

"Heh."

Bastet: "……"

That damned mutt!

This was exactly what he hated about him—whenever he laughed, it was always that low, mocking "heh." It was enough to make Bastet’s skin crawl.

"Your answer is not what I wanted," Yofar said.

For some reason—maybe it was just Bastet’s imagination—but his tone suddenly sounded much softer.

"So, I’m going to kill you."

"……"

Softer, my ass!

Bastet gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight. "Do as you please… just get it over with."

"No—don’t—he——mmph!"

Bastet heard Az struggling and shouting, but someone had muffled his cries.

He opened his eyes to look—

And was instantly met with Yofar’s cold, strikingly handsome face, staring right back at him.

Startled, Bastet squeaked and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Then, he heard Yofar’s voice, calm and deliberate:

"Are you ready? I’m about to do it."

"I will use this very hand to snap your neck, twist all your bones in half, and your head will flop down, completely limp. Do you understand?"

The hand gripping his neck tightened slightly, and one of Yofar’s fingers lightly traced over Bastet’s delicate throat, gliding over his small, rounded Adam’s apple.

Bastet swallowed hard.

Damn it, if you’re gonna do it, then just do it!

What’s with the detailed play-by-play?!

You think that’ll scare me? Ha! I’m not afraid at all!

"Then hurry up and do it, you bastard!"****"

Bastet shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to psych himself up.

At the same time, he figured he might as well run his mouth one last time before dying.

Because of that, he completely missed the expressions of shock and disbelief on the faces of Yofar’s warriors, Sok, and Abelieu.

"You’re not afraid?"

For some reason, Bastet thought he heard amusement in Yofar’s voice.

"I’m not afraid!"

Bastet snapped back boldly, feeling like an absolute legend.

He just talked back to the Pharaoh of Egypt!

Even if he died, he’d be the most badass ghost ever.

"Really not afraid?"

"Really not afraid!"

"Then, I’ll do it now, Bastet."

"For fuck’s sake, why are you still talking?! Just do——"

Bastet’s words were cut off instantly.

His eyes snapped open in disbelief, locking onto the man in front of him.

The golden sunlight of dusk cast a warm glow over the high and mighty Pharaoh, wrapping him in a soft, radiant hue.

Even the beauty of the burning sunset and crimson clouds paled in comparison to the smile on Yofar Memphis’ lips.

Bastet was completely stunned.

In Yofar’s eyes, the harsh winter had melted away in an instant—replaced by warmth.

And in the next moment—

The poor, unfortunate little cat found himself yanked forward, caught in a firm embrace.

Yofar pulled him against his chest, tearing off his headscarf and cupping his lower back, holding him securely.

Caught off guard by the sudden change in position, Bastet instinctively threw his arms around Yofar’s shoulders, his legs parting to straddle the man’s waist.

The cold, hard metal of the armor pressed painfully against the inside of his knees and his chest.

But at that moment, he couldn’t even care.

Their line of sight shifted up and down because of Yofar’s embrace. Bastet dumbly gazed down at Yofar, his fluffy cat ears twitching wildly in the thick, soft black hair.

Everyone widened their eyes in exaggerated expressions, staring at the boy’s two triangular cat ears. Only the overly calm Yofar had a slight curve at the corners of his lips, suppressing a quiet chuckle.

“Bastet,” he said, “it’s time to go back with me.”

“…………”

*

That night, in the same rundown inn.

Fierce warriors surrounded the place heavily. In front of the largest and best room in the inn (which was still quite ordinary), stood Abelieu and Breton, gripping their weapons with indescribable expressions on their faces. And inside…

“Bastet, come back with me.”

“I’m not going back! I’m breaking up with you!”

“…Breaking up?”

“……”

Screw you!

“Anyway, I’m not going back! I don’t want to be your pet anymore, you devil, bastard, scumbag—Awoo! Ptooey! Tuituitui!!!”

Yofar’s face darkened as he pressed down on the blanket, pinning the person beneath it, whose fluffy hair was the only thing peeking out. “Bastet, don’t spit.” He scolded.

“I do what I want.” A flushed, oxygen-deprived cat head popped out from the blanket, sneering at the man who wouldn’t let him get up. “Didn’t you say you didn’t care about me anymore? Didn’t you want to starve me to death? You already abandoned me, so why should I go running back to you?”

Bastet had been a coward even in his past life—thin-skinned, quick to tears. Accusing Yofar had already made his eyes rim with red.

He was pathetic, and he knew it.

“I’m not going back, no matter what. You’re the Pharaoh of Egypt. I don’t blame you for not understanding what I’m saying, but I need to find what I truly want. Farewell!”

If I shouldn’t have made a deal with you, then I’ll make a deal with someone else. If I can’t fight you, at least I can run away.

Yofar pressed down harder, trying to pull the blanket away and drag his cat out. “I’ve already explained that matter to you. Don’t you believe me? I can call Sok and the others in, and you can ask them yourself.”

“It’s not just about that… Either way, I’m not going back.”

Bastet truly believed that Yofar had treated him well. From the perspective of a king, Yofar had already been extremely patient—willing to explain things to him and even argue with him. And because he understood that, Bastet felt even more despair.

He knew deep down that the things he truly wanted could only be answered in that distant future world.

He was afraid.

He didn’t want to stand there foolishly, knowing what would happen in the future, yet still forcing himself to endure and be disappointed. Bastet had to cut his losses now.

“Come back to Upper Egypt with me.”

“No!”

“Bastet!”

“Can’t hear you!”

Yofar's eyes darkened, his imposing aura spreading over him. The two wrestled in a tangled mess through the blanket.

Bastet howled and kicked his legs, rolling like a donkey riding a bicycle. His bare feet occasionally peeked out from under the blanket, revealing smooth calves and round toes that pressed against Yofar’s armored abdomen, pushing against him with all his might.

He clutched the blanket and let out a pig-slaughtering wail, flailing his hands wildly, wearing a fierce expression that screamed, Nobody come near me! I scratch hard!

Yofar tilted his head to dodge Bastet’s swiping paws, keeping his lips pressed together to avoid accidentally hurting him. For a moment, he truly didn’t know how to handle him.

Bastet flailed for a long time before realizing that Yofar had stopped moving. The cat lord peeked out of the blanket suspiciously, only to find Yofar watching him quietly. The moment their eyes met, Bastet instinctively tried to shrink back, but the next second, he heard Yofar say—

“Bastet, I haven’t rested in a long time.”

Bastet froze, not pulling back.

He blinked, and for the first time, that sentence made him notice that Yofar did look exhausted. Especially his eyes, filled with red veins. His lips, once full and rosy, were now cracked and dry, as if he hadn’t had water in a long time.

Yofar's gaze wrapped around him. “As the King of Egypt, I shouldn’t have left my domain to come find you.”

Bastet: “……” He averted his eyes and muttered, Then you really shouldn’t have come.

Yofar continued, “But I wanted to find you. I want to bring you back—to Upper Egypt, to the palace, to my bedchamber. I want you within reach every time I wake up from a nightmare.”

Bastet: “……”

Yofar: “You are my cat. Just a cat. But I feel like it’s more than that.” His gaze was so serious, so intense, pulling at every one of Bastet’s emotions. “I need to tell you—you mean more to me than you think. I don’t know why I’ve placed so many feelings on you, or why I need you. Maybe I’ve been missing something all along, and you bring it to me. Maybe it’s because you keep running to me, ridiculously trying to protect me…”

“Bastet.”

Yofar leaned down, bracing his arm beside Bastet’s head. His gloved right hand lightly cupped Bastet’s cheek, testing the softness of his skin before slipping his fingers into his black hair. He gently pinched one of Bastet’s chubby triangular cat ears, rubbing it repeatedly.

Bastet closed one eye at the sensation, looking up at Yofar’s face. His own face betrayed him first, heating up uncontrollably.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Yofar murmured. “But I will give you the best—wealth, status, glory. If you don’t need those, then take whatever you want from me.”

He smiled, then, just like he used to when kissing a cat’s damp nose, pressed a kiss to Bastet’s nose. As Bastet’s eyes turned red in an instant, Yofar whispered—

“I’ll trade with you.”

He said, “I’ll trade for you.”

_____

Author’s Note: [Mini Theater]

Bastet: He keeps flirting with me!!!

Yofar smirks: Love you.

Bastet: …Damn it!

(Yofar's key point in recognizing his cat: the eyes.)

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