PSW Chapter 45: Not There!

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🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

The most fatal thing is when a proud and powerful person suddenly learns how to be gentle and humble.

Especially when that person is the god of Egypt—Pharaoh Yofar Memphis.

After being stared at by those sapphire-like eyes, after feeling his hand run through his hair, after being kissed on the nose and hearing the words "Your turn"—Bastet fell into Yofar’s world.

Bastet’s mother, once said:

"When someone you like makes a mistake, you can't help but want to forgive them, even if you know they're a scoundrel."

Bastet thought his mom was absolutely right.

See, right now, there was a cat clawing at his heart, meowing insistently, "Forgive him! Forgive him!" Even though he could foresee his own tragic fate, even though he struggled against lowering his pride and tearing down his walls too soon—even though he kept telling himself that the one who surrenders first always loses…

But damn it—

"I'm so pathetic."

Bastet bit his lower lip, sniffled, and with bloodshot eyes more red than Yofar’s, he choked out in a small, unwilling voice:

"So… can you treat me better from now on?"

Yofar gazed at the pitiful little thing before him. Hearing his anxious and fearful request, for the first time, Yofar felt as if his heart had been clenched in someone’s hand, squeezed until it oozed sour pain.

He took a deep breath and, along with the blanket, pulled his cat into a tight embrace!

"I swear I will."

His palm cradled the back of Bastet’s head as he gripped his hair, pressing a kiss to the tip of his ear.

"Be good, Bastet. Be good." Don’t cry.

"……"

Bastet—utterly pathetic—gripped the armor on Yofar’s chest, fingers digging into the gaps. Like a little cat curling up in grievance, he buried his face in Yofar’s neck, inhaling the dusty scent of his platinum hair, and, for show, sniffled and shed two tiny golden teardrops.

Bastet: Hmph! Who says I’m not the little princess of the cat world?

Yofar: Of course you are.

They stayed in this embrace for a long time. Without any teacher, Yofar instinctively stroked Bastet’s head, patting him like a child, his lips brushing against his ear every now and then.

His small actions completely exposed his overwhelming patience and tenderness. He was cherishing and protecting Bastet so much that Bastet started feeling like he’d become Yofar’s own son—one who still wet the bed.

Neither of them realized just how ambiguous and inappropriate their posture and interactions would seem to outsiders. But to Yofar, Bastet was his cat. And spoiling his cat? That was only natural.

As for Bastet, he was utterly dazed. When he was in cat form, Yofar always stroked him, so he had long since grown accustomed to kisses, hugs, and being lifted high. Since his full face of fur hid any blush, he had let go of all shame. Even when Yofar pressed his lips to his ear, he only felt a little uncomfortable—his first instinct was simply to flick his ears.

"You're so heavy." Bastet grumbled.

Yofar was tall and well-built, his muscles tight and firm. Compared to Bastet’s underdeveloped, scrawny frame, Yofar was several times stronger. With all that heavy armor pressing down on him, Bastet could only take small, shallow breaths. His ribs ached from being crushed, and on top of that—hello?! It was July! Egypt had huge temperature swings between day and night, sure, but it was still boiling hot!

"Hmm?" Yofar propped himself up slightly. With their faces still close, he peered at the damp curls of hair sticking to Bastet’s forehead from sweat.

"Am I?" he murmured.

Bastet curled his knee and shoved at him.

"Yes! Ugh… Fuck, get off me, I’m about to get heatstroke!"

Yofar pressed his lips together, his gaze carrying a hint of displeasure as he got up from the bed and walked over to the table to start removing his armor.

"You're sleeping here tonight?" Bastet blurted out. The moment he said it, something felt off—like he was some top courtesan in a pleasure house, desperately begging his lover to stay another night.

Yofar, with his back to him, continued unbuckling his armor without turning around. He simply hummed in response and said, "It’s not advisable to withdraw the troops and return at this hour. The night is unsafe."

"Oh."

Bastet yawned lazily, his sharp little teeth peeking out as he stretched under the covers. Bored, he lay on the edge of the bed, playing idly with his tail while watching Yofar change clothes.

He had lived in the palace long enough to be used to this scene. To him, there was nothing unusual about Yofar changing in front of him.

Instead, his mind drifted into all sorts of chaotic, tangled thoughts.

One moment, he felt he shouldn’t have forgiven Yofar so easily—he should have let him stew for a few days. The next, he found himself touched that the Pharaoh of Egypt was willing to lower his head and say so much to him.

But what played over and over in his mind the most were Yofar’s words from just now.

Each syllable echoed in his head, replaying again and again. After the eighth time, the smug little cat couldn't hold back anymore—he pulled the blanket over his face, muffling his mouth to stifle his giddy laughter. His large, bright green eyes curled into crescent moons, practically glowing with delight.

Once Yofar was left wearing only a simple white undergarment, he turned and opened the door, stepping out to issue the order for the troops to stay stationed for the night.

Breton, standing outside, quickly schooled his expression, suppressing the complicated look on his face and resisting the urge to peek into the room. He obediently followed orders.

The moment Yofar shut the door, Breton finally turned to Abelieu and spoke with difficulty: "Maybe you were right, buddy."

Abelieu raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Breton hesitated before reminding him, "Remember when you said that cat named Bastet turns into a little vixen at night and bewilders the king?"

Abelieu frowned. "But he’s not a little vixen."

Breton pulled a constipated expression. "Yeah… Maybe the king just doesn’t like little vixens?"

Abelieu: "……"

Well, that wasn’t anything shocking. Abelieu quickly comforted himself and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Plenty of nobles keep boys! Doesn’t stop them from sleeping with women and having kids. What’s there to worry about?"

Breton sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I wish I could be like you."

Abelieu squinted at him. "Like me how?"

Breton looked at him with gentle pity. "As brainless as you—then I wouldn’t overthink things so much."

Abelieu: "……"

Outside the room, Abelieu silently gritted his teeth and locked Breton in a headlock, throttling him as revenge.

Inside the room, Yofar casually lifted the covers and lay down on the bed, pulling his long-lost cat into his arms once more.

Yofar had already removed his gloves. His long, cool fingers slipped beneath Bastet’s clothes, feeling the familiar warmth and softness of his body. His nose pressed into Bastet’s black curls, inhaling the scent of his cat. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

Bastet lay with his back to him and finally realized how awkward this position was. Embarrassed, he tried to push Yofar’s hand away—only for Yofar to catch it instead. Their fingers intertwined, Yofar’s fingertips rubbing against Bastet’s soft pads before shifting positions, wrapping around his smaller hand and pressing into his palm as if still not satisfied.

"Your paw pads are softer… and bigger than before."

Yofar lowered his gaze, golden lashes casting shadows over his sharp ice-blue eyes, which, for once, held no coldness. His lips and nose were right against the back of Bastet’s head as he murmured in a husky voice, so deep it seemed to resonate in Bastet’s skull:

"I like it a lot."

Bastet’s face flushed bright red.

"Y-you—you bastard, what the hell are you feeling me up for?! Why do you sound so—so weird just talking about my hand?!"

Yofar’s impossibly handsome face softened, his narrow eyes curving into a smile. He completely ignored Bastet’s protests, staying under the blanket as he thoroughly examined his cat’s new body with his hands.

"Your little hooked claws are gone, too."

His cool fingers pressed against Bastet’s fingertips.

"Obviously. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be a cat demon…?"

"Mmm. Wrist to elbow—proportionate to your height."

His hand slid upward, reaching Bastet’s shoulder. Bastet let out an involuntary “Oh” from the ticklish sensation.

"Your skin and hair still have a feline texture, yet they don’t trigger my allergic reactions—"

His hands split up their tasks. One roamed freely, exploring, while the other gently gripped Bastet’s throat from behind. His fingers traced up along his jaw, just like a vet inspecting a cat’s mouth. His index and middle fingers pressed against Bastet’s lips, the contrast of crimson and cold white far too striking.

Yofar tried to part Bastet’s lips with his fingers.

"YOFAR!"

Bastet exploded. His cat ears fluffed up instantly.

"Don’t be afraid. I’m just checking your mouth, your teeth—to see if you can eat properly. And your tongue—does it still have barbs?"

Yofar seemed completely at ease, wrapping Bastet up in his arms with lazy amusement. His chin rested atop Bastet’s head, his tone laced with curiosity. Though he had quickly accepted Bastet’s transformation into a human, it still fascinated him—he was clearly eager to ‘explore’ further.

The moment Bastet opened his mouth to argue, Yofar tried to stick his fingers inside. Bastet gagged and spat them out.

"I DO, I DO! Ugh—why the hell are you so damn curious?! Stop touching me—I’m going to sleep—mmph! What the hell are you touching now?! YOFAR—!"

Furious roars filled the room as Bastet turned into a flailing whirlwind of claws and kicks. The rickety inn bed let out a chorus of creaks and groans under their struggle.

Outside the door, Abelieu and Breton stood frozen.

Listening to the muffled sounds of Yofar’s laughter, Bastet’s furious shouting, and the incriminating bed noises, both men blushed furiously.

The commotion lasted quite a while before finally quieting down.

As for the reason—

Bastet was now straddling Yofar’s waist, both hands locked around Yofar’s throat. He stared in horror at Yofar’s rapidly swelling right hand. Meanwhile, Yofar was smirking, his gaze shifting between his own hand… and a very particular spot below Bastet’s stomach.

*"Oh~" Yofar drawled, his tone positively dripping with teasing delight. "So, you do have fur that triggers allergies after all."

Bastet: "……" Cue complete cat-faced explosion of embarrassment.

Yofar’s deep blue eyes darkened in the dim light as he slowly blinked at Bastet.

"But why only in this one spot? A forbidden zone, perhaps? Hmm… But why does it feel like this ‘forbidden zone’ is specifically meant to keep me away?"

"Exactly! It’s designed to ward off perverts like you!"

Bastet rolled off him, face blazing red, his emerald green eyes full of warning. He stayed curled up at a safe distance, watching Yofar with extreme caution, ready to bolt at the first sign of another ‘inspection.’

Yofar hummed, "It’s probably related to that…"

"What?"

"Oh, right! I haven’t even told you why I turned into a human!"

Bastet scratched his head and briefly explained how he had become involved with the Book of the Dead and his dream about the Moon Goddess. Yofar listened intently, without the slightest hint of disbelief. This reassured Bastet a lot.

"I see. I will discuss this matter with the high priests and temple clergy later."

After he finished, Yofar didn’t say much. Instead, he simply pulled Bastet back under the blankets, tucking him into his chest. He flicked one of Bastet’s triangular cat ears and, with his other hand, gently pulled out the tail that had been trapped under Bastet’s clothes, laying it over himself.

"Sleep. It’s late."

Yofar tightened his embrace. It was Bastet’s first time sleeping beside him in human form. Not used to having arms and legs, Bastet awkwardly curled up toward Yofar’s lower abdomen, struggling to fold himself into a ball like a cat. As he smacked his lips sleepily, he couldn’t help but marvel at how unshakable Yofar was—as expected of a king, remaining so calm even after hearing something so utterly impossible.

Lost in thought, Bastet eventually fell asleep in this awkward position.

Yofar’s fingers idly ran through Bastet’s hair. Before long, he heard the familiar purring sound of a contented cat rising from his chest. He paused for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle.

"Little thing."

His gaze softened—but then, as if remembering something, that fleeting gentleness faded away.

"The Moon Goddess…"

In the darkness, Yofar raised his hand and stared at the unseen allergic reaction on his palm, his brows furrowing.

"Is this her will?"

But… why?

___

[Author’s Note: 【Mini Theater】]

Yofar: Why is that place off-limits?

Bastet: Heh.

Moon Goddess: Heh.

"Why the hell are you so obsessed with touching that spot, you dog?!"

The forbidden zone was entirely the Moon Goddess’s way of expressing her lingering grudge toward Yofar, who would one day become a Heroic Spirit (Einherjar). It was both a mockery and a punishment for how he had once tormented her apostle (ahem, cat).

Hehe.

【The answer from the previous chapter based on eyesight: Because Bastet's pupils are feline, their contraction in response to light differs significantly from those of humans. Also, since Bastet is usually so dark, Yofar has gotten used to locating him by his eyes.】

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