PSW Chapter 46: The Insider and the Observer

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🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

At dawn, Bastet uncontrollably transformed back into a cat, his bones aching with exhaustion—this was the aftereffect of turning human.

He had already agreed to return with Yofar, and since Yofar had lingered in Lower Egypt for too long, he, as Pharaoh, had to return to Upper Egypt swiftly to avoid unnecessary complications.

Even so, Bastet forced his heavy eyelids open, padded on his soft paws, and ran off to bid farewell to Az.

He had already discussed it with Yofar yesterday. No matter what, Az was his savior, and Bastet hoped that Yofar would let him go. Yofar agreed not to pursue Az for stealing the Book of the Dead and even had Breton grant him a token. With this token, if Az ever found himself in trouble again, as long as he came to Upper Egypt, he could receive a personal pardon from Pharaoh himself.

Az, who had thought he was doomed, was now not only spared but had even received a reward from Pharaoh. Holding the token, he grinned widely and shouted to Bastet in excitement:

"Haha! I must be famous in the thieves' world now! Not only did I steal from Pharaoh, but I even got a reward from him! Just imagine—what a legendary tale! The bards will compose songs about me overnight, and my master will be laughing his head off in the Underworld!"

At first, he had only assumed he had stolen some rare treasure offered to the Pharaoh by nobles. But now, knowing that the man who chased him was Pharaoh himself, Az immediately realized he must have stolen something extraordinary. Just the fact that the Pharaoh—Yofar Memphis, known as the Conqueror King—had personally hunted him down made Az feel like his life was complete.

Bastet watched with amusement as Az enthusiastically smacked kisses onto the token.

"Hah~" The little black feline opened his mouth, revealing a pink tongue and tiny sharp teeth as he yawned sleepily.

"Oh, right." Az finally noticed the small black cat before him and asked worriedly, "You were locked up before… Was that Pharaoh's doing? Did he mistreat you?"

Bastet was stunned for a moment. Then, feeling a warmth in his heart, he hadn't expected Az to actually be concerned for him.

"Meow~"

It wasn’t him. He wouldn’t do that.

Az frowned, lowering his voice. "Really? But that king… He’s terrifying. Don’t you feel like there’s a giant beast standing behind him? Just one glance at him makes my scalp tingle."

"Meow~"

You're exaggerating too much.

Bastet flicked his tail in amusement and reassured Az, "Meow." Don't worry, Yofar promised he wouldn’t hurt me, and I choose to believe him.

"Tsk, you're so naive. Animals are always like this, trusting their owners too easily." Az muttered under his breath and sighed. "Alright, I’m off. If that terrifying king ever hurts you, run to Koria, the border town. That’s my hometown."

Koria, the border town?

Why does that name sound so familiar?

Bastet didn’t dwell on it too much. He crouched down and waved a paw at Az. "Meow~" Alright, take care.

Az grinned, shouldered his pack, and left with carefree ease. Watching his companion, someone who had helped him and shared a bond, depart, Bastet felt a pang of melancholy. He sat there, staring wistfully in the direction Az had gone for a long time.

Until Yofar, now wearing a dark expression, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

Yofar liked to carry Bastet like a baby. He cupped his hand under the little feline’s rump, letting the black bundle perch on his shoulder, its damp nose brushing against the hollow of his collarbone.

"Meow!"

"Settle down."

Yofar turned his head slightly, his chin brushing against Bastet’s open mouth as he let out a displeased meow. Feeling the cat’s body heat, slightly warmer than a human’s, some of the ice on Yofar’s striking face melted. Gripping the reins with one hand, he mounted his horse and commanded, "Move out."

"Yes! Let’s go!"

The cavalry behind him urged their horses forward, hooves thundering as they followed in formation.

Bastet, still feeling unwell, simply curled up on Yofar’s shoulder for a nap.

Halfway through their journey, they encountered the rest of the royal guards who had been searching for them. By the time their procession finally returned to the governor’s palace, Bastet wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but it felt as if Nephthys and the palace maids were on the verge of tears.

Old court lady Alina even shed a few actual tears.

Bastet: shocked black cat face.jpg

What the hell? Is it really that serious? Did they actually want to cry just because Yofar left for a bit?!

They usually seemed quite afraid of Yofar—who would have thought that Ancient Egyptian attendants were so loyal to their king?

Nephthys and the maids had no idea what Bastet was thinking. If they did, they would have gladly given him a live demonstration of what it truly meant to be on the verge of tears with no way to cry.

Miss Yofar? No, no, no—what kind of foolishness was that? Though it might be blasphemous to say, they had to be honest: they absolutely did not miss the king. In fact, they had desperately wished he would stay out longer!

Only the gods knew—without the cat around, Pharaoh was nothing short of a terrifying demon who had torn off his human disguise. It was truly, truly a nightmare!

In just a few days, High Priest Nephthys had been scolded, High Priest Hesse had gone completely silent, and the rest of the king’s closest confidants lived in constant fear, trembling at his presence.

The murderous and icy aura Yofar exuded was so intense that those standing closest to him felt as if their faces and eyelashes might frost over just by being near him.

Before, when a maid accidentally dropped something, Bastet would let out a few soft meows, and Yofar would simply turn a blind eye. But now? Ha.

Four maids had been executed. The entire governor’s palace had been almost completely purged in blood.

The palace maids who had accompanied them from the royal court had secretly wiped away tears countless times.

Meanwhile, old court lady Alina had spent her days praying for Bastet’s swift return—while also wondering whether she should prepare a will.

And then, the Grim Reaper himself, Pharaoh Yofar Memphis, finally returned—this time with his cat in tow.

Not a trace of bloodlust remained on him.

In fact, there was even the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

A Smile—on His Face!

Old court lady Alina: … What is blurring my vision? Are these tears? No, it is the hope of survival! Sob, sob—thank you, Sun God!

Nephthys: Praise the Sun God!

Hesse: Praise the Sun God!

Everyone who had come to welcome them: Praise the Sun God! Thud!

"Your Majesty." Nephthys, holding her staff, hurried forward and stopped in front of Yofar’s horse. Her face was pale from exhaustion, yet she still maintained a graceful, elegant smile. Lifting her skirt slightly, she curtsied and spoke in a melodious voice, "The light of the Sun God Ra shines upon you. I am truly happy that you have returned safely with Bastet."

The drowsy Bastet shuddered awake at the gentle tone of Nephthys' voice. His bright green eyes widened in shock as he stared at her— Nephthys, what happened to you? Why are you acting so overly eager? Were you possessed by the city lord or something?

From what he remembered, Nephthys was always poised and dignified—but also secretly scheming. She had never spoken with such reverence before.

Yofar dismounted, still holding Bastet in his arms. He wasn’t surprised by her behavior; instead, he simply cast a cool glance at her and remarked, "This doesn’t suit you, Nephthys."

Her smile stiffened. "…Yes, Your Majesty."

She swallowed down her unease and cautiously lifted her gaze—only to find that Yofar's expression lacked the usual coldness and resentment she had feared. She was stunned. Unbelievable…

That day, after being rebuked by Yofar, Nephthys had spent the entire night in restless anxiety, regretting that she had risked everything she had painstakingly built over a mere trivial mistake. Yet now, seeing the way Yofar looked, her instincts as someone who knew him well told her—he’s in a good mood. He no longer intends to hold me accountable!

She let out a deep breath, feeling as though a heavy weight had finally been lifted from her chest. For a moment, her eyes even felt a little misty.

Then she glanced at the little black furball in Yofar’s arms—its round green eyes blinked at her in concern, looking like two emerald grapes stuck onto a lump of charcoal. At this moment, Nephthys no longer wanted to analyze the cat’s influence over the king—she only felt grateful for Bastet’s existence!

However, Yofar didn’t enter the governor’s mansion. Instead, he ordered, "Hesse, prepare for departure immediately. We return to Upper Egypt at once."

Hesse nodded in acknowledgment. "Before your return, Nephthys and I had already made the necessary preparations. The troops are ready to move at any moment. Your Majesty—"

He paused.

Because at that moment, he saw the small black cat perched on Yofar’s shoulder yawning widely. Half-asleep, Bastet lazily licked his own paw—only to miss and accidentally lick Yofar’s neck instead.

What startled Hesse was that the king showed no sign of displeasure at this. Instead, Yofar softly turned his head and—ignoring any possible allergic reactions—pressed his lips against the cat’s ear and forehead, gently planting a few light kisses.

Hesse wasn’t sure why, but something about this scene—which would have seemed natural between any other master and pet—felt subtly ambiguous and oddly intimate in this context.

The moment Yofar looked in his direction, Hesse quickly straightened his expression, reporting on the final preparations at the governor’s palace. He convinced himself that the king was merely overindulging Bastet after having nearly lost him.

Before long, Bastet saw Yofar leading the entire party in a swift withdrawal—without a moment’s delay. He even abandoned the royal chariot, which would have slowed their pace.

Those who couldn’t ride, like the maids, were seated in carriages carrying supplies at the rear of the procession.

Old court lady Alina, noticing that Yofar was holding the cat with only one hand while riding, considerately suggested taking Bastet to the back so he could be properly cared for.

But Yofar coldly rejected her.

"That won’t be necessary."

Seated high upon his horse, Yofar looked down at her as he spoke. His gloved hand cradled the small black cat’s rear, his thumb idly stroking the base of Bastet’s tail, feeling the slight ridges of his spine beneath the fur. Without a hint of warmth, he glanced at Alina’s outstretched hands before gripping the reins and riding off.

His ice-blue eyes were colder than the dead of winter.

The mere sweep of his gaze sent a shiver down Alina’s spine, making her feel as though the very skin on her face had been stripped away.

Alina: …

If not for the way Bastet blinked at her, she might have thought that the king was cradling a priceless treasure rather than a cat.

Since they had traveled by boat on their way here, naturally, they would return the same way.

At night, the Nile shimmered with rippling reflections, the gentle sound of water lapping against the boat filling the air. A cool breeze skimmed across the surface, carrying the scent of water and a refreshing chill that billowed the sails.

Despite the scorching heat, the cool air over the river was enough to send goosebumps rising on the skin.

Inside the cabin, a dusty Book of the Dead, looted from a small-town tavern, lay abandoned on the low table. The once-legendary artifact—something priests and scholars would have once cherished with reverence—now looked pitiful and neglected.

Yet the two priests in the room had completely forgotten about the book. Their jaws had practically hit the floor, eyes bulging in disbelief as they stared at the cat-eared boy who dared to sit on their king’s lap while eating.

A pair of black leather gloves were stacked neatly beside the Book of the Dead, momentarily cast aside by their owner.

Yofar sat cross-legged on the soft cushions. His cold, pale, and slender hands reached under Bastet’s arms, holding a plate piled with large chunks of meat in one hand and a piece of shredded, sauce-drenched meat in the other.

“Open your mouth.”

“I only look small and in need of care, Yofar. I can eat by myself.”

“Open your mouth.”

“I—”

“Be good.”

“…Fine.”

Yofar held the small piece of meat up to Bastet’s lips. The boy’s upturned, crimson mouth opened, revealing four sharp fangs that clamped down naturally. As he bit into the meat, his thin, barbed cat tongue inadvertently brushed against Yofar’s fingers, lapping up the golden honeyed sauce that coated them.

Yofar’s lips curled up, his blue eyes shimmering like starlight.

He tore off another piece of meat and, without hurry, continued feeding the cat-eared boy, fully indulging in the moment.

Bastet, however, was growing anxious. Thanks to Yofar’s little tricks, he could only eat tiny bites at a time. Worse yet, the king would deliberately press his fingertips against Bastet’s lips, leaving a smudge of sauce behind. The sensation made Bastet instinctively want to lick it off.

But the moment he stuck out his tongue, Yofar would always just so happen to place his finger right where he was licking.

“Yofar!” Bastet finally lost patience and bit him, his sharp fangs leaving a tiny puncture on the king’s cold, pale fingers. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?! I’m starving, you bastard! Let me eat by myself!”

He reached out to snatch the plate, but Yofar immediately pulled it away, effortlessly dodging his little claws.

“I won’t tease you anymore.” Yofar’s deep, velvety voice carried a trace of laughter. “Open up—I’ll give you a big piece this time.”

You can hear the grumbles from his throat before hunching over and devouring the meat, his hunger overriding his complaints.

Compared to the broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted Egyptians—whose women alone were already taller than him—Bastet was just a small bundle of fluff sitting between Yofar’s legs. His soft, slightly curled black hair fluffed up around his face, with two oval-shaped brows pressed against his forehead. His bright green feline eyes glowed with light, his tiny nose and slightly upturned lips adding to his innocent appearance. Unlike Yofar’s cold, pale skin, Bastet’s was a warm shade of white.

With his cheeks puffed out as he chomped away at the meat, he looked like the very picture of an adorable, obedient child.

Of course, that was only if one ignored the two triangular cat ears peeking out from his black hair… and the long tail curling around his waist.

Hesse and Nephthys had barely recovered from the shock of realizing that the Book of the Dead’s legends were real before they were once again left reeling—this time by the sight of Bastet in his humanoid, cat-eared form. It was only after finally digesting their king’s brief, indifferent explanation that they were struck by yet another fatal blow—the way their king interacted with the cat-eared youth.

Hesse shot Nephthys a look: …Doesn’t this seem kind of strange to you?

Nephthys frowned: Has the king still not distinguished between a cat and a person?

Has he?

Hesse’s gaunt, tanned face tensed. He didn’t think it was that simple. The way the king looked at Bastet was too gentle—far beyond what one would expect from a mere pet owner.

And before this… when he had tried to convince the king not to risk his life over a cat… Yofar’s reaction had been… well, how should he put it? Hesse had never seen Pharaoh Yofar hesitate before. Never seen him waver. But that day, he had hesitated.

People only hesitate when forced to choose between two things of equal importance. And yet, Yofar had placed the whereabouts of a single cat on the same scale as his own life—on the same scale as all of Egypt.

No… perhaps it was even worse than that. The scales had tipped entirely toward that "light as a feather" black cat.

Hesse, who had been raised under the strict hierarchy of Egyptian society, simply could not comprehend the king’s decision. He could only chalk it up to the sway of personal emotions.

Now, as he watched the king press the back of his hand against the cat-eared boy’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head up, his expression softened. Yofar’s lips brushed against the strands of black hair on Bastet’s forehead, rubbing against them in a slow, deliberate motion. His lips parted slightly—almost as if…

As if he were seeking something. As if he were waiting for a response.

Hesse had only ever seen such gestures of wordless intimacy in one type of relationship—between lovers.

His fingers trembled as they clenched around his staff, his gaze darkening as he slowly lowered his head.

Let’s hope… let’s hope it’s not what I think it is.

With the king’s personality, he would never divide his already rare and distant affections between two people.

And now, with Egypt finally seeing the dawn of hope, it could not afford a queen who would never bear an heir.

____

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