PSW Chapter 51: Rough Play

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🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

Assyria.

Yano Alsadon was the most beloved daughter of the Assyrian king.

Before the current Pharaoh of Egypt, Yofar Memphis, ascended to the throne, the Assyrian king ruled his country with meticulous order. The strength of the Assyrian army, forged through its advanced ironworking techniques, surpassed even that of Egypt, reducing the once-glorious Egyptian Empire to a relic of the past.

But people age, and the rise and fall of nations are far less eternal than the jewels in a crown.

For instance, that relic of the past found new life—Egypt’s king waged war on the frontiers and reunited Upper and Lower Egypt. The world spoke in awe of Yofar Memphis, the Conquering King, whose fierceness and beauty spread across the lands.

Meanwhile, the Assyrian king grew old and frail. His five sons fought over the throne with ruthless ambition, and the once-mighty ruler could do nothing but send his cherished daughter to Egypt, seeking protection from the new Pharaoh.

No matter how unwilling he was to admit it, the Assyrian princess left the capital of Ashur and arrived in Egypt.

Yano was a beautiful woman.

Even when Nephthys mentioned it, Yofar did not bother to deny it.

Yet, in Assyria, few praised her beauty. Instead, they lamented: why was Princess Yano not born a prince? If she had been, she would have inherited her father’s throne and led Assyria back to its former glory.

Some even joked that the gods must have miscounted the number of children granted to the Assyrian king, giving all the intelligence to Yano alone. This was a veiled insult to the king’s five foolish sons—what did it matter if his daughter was exceptional? In the end, she was still just another man’s wife.

Rumors abounded, but one thing was clear: the Assyrian princess, Yano, was no ordinary woman.

Unfortunately, at the time, Lord Black Cat was lounging on the young and handsome Pharaoh’s lap, happily munching on dried fish. Upon hearing of the princess’s arrival, he dismissed it as just another routine diplomatic meeting, giving it no further thought.

It was precisely because he had not given it any thought—precisely because he viewed things with the mindset of a modern man—that when he finally met this princess, everything took him completely off guard…

*

Outside the Egyptian Palace.

The streets, paved with large stone slabs, stretched into the distance, flanked by rows of tightly packed shops.

Elegant makeup boxes, fragrant perfumes and balms, exotic clay and ceramic jars, and bold yet beautiful bronze jewelry were on display. Bakers in handmade garments tended to their ovens, and tavern owners shouted orders to their assistants while serving customers.

The sun bathed the land in golden light.

Amidst the lively bustle, a pair of gleaming green eyes—shimmering with hues of gold in the sunlight—surveyed the scene. The black fur of the large, sleek feline seemed to glisten with an almost oily sheen.

A long, curled tail swayed leisurely. Perched atop a man’s headwrap, the black cat struck a regal pose, as if declaring: These foolish mortals are mere sweets in my pocket!

With a smug tilt of its chin, Lord Black Cat let the soft breeze ruffle the whiskers on his muzzle, making his face look even slimmer.

His ears twitched at the tips, his fur bristling slightly as he let out a mighty meow: This land—and that land—are all part of my empire! Over there—and over there—are all within my domain!

Hmph.

You all agree, don’t you?

No?

Silence.

No one is allowed to question Lord Cat!

With a flick of his tail, the black cat swatted the head of the man beneath him, casting a proud gaze over his surroundings.

Egyptian girls, dressed in white robes and veils, carried delicate cosmetic boxes. Their brown faces, adorned with fine makeup, lit up as they giggled behind their hands, jewelry clinking softly. They paused, whispering to one another, speculating about the identity of this regal feline perched atop someone’s head.

But still, many people recognized that this cat belonged to an ancient Egyptian breed—one that remained rare even in Egypt today. It had a strong yet elegant physique, paws larger than those of ordinary cats, and a long, powerful tail. Such a high-class pet could only be afforded by nobles. The only place commoners could admire a purebred short-haired cat like this was at the temple of the cat god.

Egyptians adored cats, and their numbers were abundant, but not every cat could become a sacred feline. Strict standards governed the breed and appearance of temple cats.

There were even special laws protecting cats.

In Egypt, killing a cat or smuggling one out of the country was considered a serious crime.

A man, who had been eyeing both the cat and its owner longingly as they passed by, sighed to his companion, “That cat is stunning, like a miniature cheetah. Look at the arch of its shoulder blades! Ah~ I can almost imagine those big paws pressing against my face. Those plump little toe beans… ugh, just perfect…”

His friend burst into laughter. “Forget it. We’re just ordinary merchants—there’s no way we could buy one. To own a cat like that in Egypt, you have to be a noble. And besides, look.”

He gestured toward the departing man and cat. “Didn’t you notice the person it’s sitting on? From his attire, he’s definitely someone’s attendant. And look at his posture—well-groomed, upright, tall, and strong. A servant trained to such a standard must have an extraordinary master. But most importantly—he’s carrying a weapon.”

In the royal city, weapons like swords and daggers were strictly regulated. Only a select few professions could apply for permits, and even then, they had to register their weapons with the city guards. Even the servants of nobles had to comply.

Of course, there were exceptions—high-ranking generals, royal guards, and the personal attendants of the Pharaoh and the High Priest.

Judging by the man’s attire and bearing, he was undoubtedly one of the latter.

The man who had wanted to buy the cat clicked his tongue in disappointment. Under his friend’s amused gaze, he ultimately didn’t dare step forward to ask, Excuse me, may I pet your cat?

After all, nobles were not to be trifled with.

Meanwhile, the small black beast, having just turned its noble little head away from a fruit stall, yawned widely, revealing a barbed tongue and sharp little teeth.

The nearly pitch-black Lord Cat raised a paw and smack-smack—delivered two firm pats to the head beneath him. “Meow~”

Hey, you! Nephthys’ servant! I want roasted bread. Go buy it for me now.

The servant: “……”

The handsome young man twitched at the corner of his mouth, resisting the urge to grab the large paw dangling in his vision, its soft pink pads so very tempting. Instead, he whispered, “Lord Bastet, I will buy it immediately, but… could you get off my head before eating?”

Letting a cat sit on his head while munching on bread, showering him in crumbs?

The mere thought of it made his hand itch for his weapon.

The black fluffball bared its tiny fangs in a smug, adorable grin.

‘Dream on. Not happening. Don’t even think about it.’

Nephthys’ servant: “……”

The black fluffball: ‘Heh, serves you right! That time you held me upside down and mistook my butt for my face, calling me “nothing but a black ball.” Didn’t you say I was too dark? Go on, say it again! I dare you!~~~’

The servant was silent for a long moment before speaking with great difficulty, “Lord Bastet, that was two months ago.”

You seriously hold grudges like this?!

Bastet’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, you still remember?”

The servant: “…Yes.”

Bastet smiled. “Wonderful. So do I.”

Which means don’t think for a second that I’m letting you off the hook!

“…………”

The High Priest’s most trusted attendant—highly skilled in both combat and scholarship—gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. His expression twisted into a forced smile, veins pulsing on his forehead.

Stay calm… stay calm…

He silently replayed the Pharaoh’s words in his mind for the hundredth time before leaving the palace. The strikingly handsome ruler had gazed at him coldly and commanded, “Take care of Bastet. Do not touch it. Do not rub its belly.”

The memory alone sent a shiver down the attendant’s spine. He pursed his lips, picked up his pace, and hurried toward the bread stall, balancing the smug black cat on his head.

Above him, Bastet covered its mouth with a paw, chuckling to itself—until it suddenly froze.

Wait a minute… This is the paw I used to bury my poop earlier!

The little black menace gagged in disgust before quickly switching to another paw to clean its face.

Though Nephthys’ attendant had begrudgingly submitted to the feline overlord, he made a last-ditch attempt to reclaim his dignity. Instead of buying a large loaf, he purposely chose the tiniest piece of bread available—a small roll meant for children—and handed it up to the smug ball of fur on his head.

The freshly baked bread was still warm, releasing a sweet aroma. Bastet’s emerald eyes gleamed with excitement. Its claws extended slightly, pinning the bread down as it eagerly took bite after bite.

All the while, the black cat continued directing its ‘mount’ forward, its bright green eyes darting around, soaking in the sights of the bustling streets.

Bastet had begged Yofar for a long, long time to be allowed outside the palace. It had even transformed into human form, enduring a whole night of the Pharaoh’s ‘torment,’ before finally earning permission.

However, Yofar had set a strict rule: Bastet could only roam for three hours. If it exceeded that time limit by even a single minute…

The Pharaoh hadn’t needed to finish his sentence. His voice had grown colder and quieter, trailing off into an ominous silence.

But his expression alone had been enough to send Bastet’s imagination spiraling into terrifying possibilities.

Not daring to break the agreement, the cat made sure to seize every moment, not wasting even half a second.

The Lively Street – Second Floor of a Tavern

Down below, travelers, mercenaries, and laborers feasted on roasted meat, tearing into the juicy, charred chunks with their hands. In their other hands, they clutched massive wooden tankards—each as large as their heads—filled to the brim with ale. Their hearty laughter echoed as they clashed their mugs together in a toast.

The thick foam and bits of crushed wheat covered the surface of the beer. This type of ale had a strong, sour taste and a high alcohol content. It was not a drink for the refined. Aristocrats and women rarely touched it, and even if they did, they would sip only the bottom layer through a reed straw, avoiding the heavy foam on top.

However, the rough and rowdy men in the tavern didn’t bother with such etiquette. They simply had the innkeeper strain out the larger bits from the ale before gulping it straight down their throats.

Their booming voices filled the air, cursing, bragging, and egging each other on in drinking contests. Some pounded the wooden tables in excitement, while raucous laughter and the clanking of mugs nearly shook the roof off the building.

“You chose such a noisy place?”

“Isn’t it great? I think it’s lively. I like the freedom of taverns—there are never any worries here, only drunkards.”

“That’s not something a noble would say.”

“Haha, well, I’m not a noble right now.”

The woman sighed behind her veil, her brows slightly furrowed. She had yet to touch the supposedly clean wooden table, let alone the food placed upon it.

The man across from her, however, sat casually, one leg propped up on the chair. He rested his elbow on his knee, lazily supporting his chin with one hand while holding a wooden mug of ale in the other. A faint smile played at his lips as he gazed through the sheer white curtains, watching the bustling street below.

A gentle breeze lifted the fabric, its hem brushing against his neatly tied-back hair, which was loosely secured with a simple string.

Despite his deep-set features and striking good looks, he did not seem irritated by the noise. In fact, he half-closed his eyes, savoring a rare sense of tranquility amidst the chaos.

He was strong and tall, his honey-colored skin stretched over well-defined muscles. Yet, as he immersed himself in the breeze, his peaceful demeanor was so contagious that those around him found themselves relaxing unconsciously.

“This is nice…” The man smiled, opening his warm, unthreatening brown eyes. “Too bad it belongs to Egypt.”

Turning his head, he looked at the woman across from him and playfully tilted his head. “I wonder if we’ll see a scene like this in Assyria once the new king takes the throne.”

The woman chuckled as well. “Whether we do or not, it’s still better than complete destruction. At least Assyria can still struggle to survive. Sometimes, I truly envy you—you can walk through Egypt’s capital so openly, without even covering your face.”

The man merely shrugged, as if he hadn’t noticed the hint of mockery in her voice.

They continued their quiet, unhurried conversation, but as he glanced once more out the window, his gaze suddenly fixed on something below. His words trailed off as he slowly blinked.

The woman followed his line of sight. “What is it?”

“…It’s nothing. I just saw a little one… Mm, that little one from Pharaoh Yofar Memphis’ household.”

“What?!”

The woman immediately focused her attention outside. “An Egyptian royal child? But I’ve never heard of any other heirs besides the new king.”

“It’s not a person.” The man waved his hand dismissively.

The woman frowned in confusion. “…?”

The man’s smile deepened, amusement glinting in his eyes. “It’s a little cat.”

Without waiting for her to ask further, he gestured toward his otherwise unnoticed attendant behind him. “Sin, go stir up some trouble—trap them in the ‘Dog Market.’ Got it?”

The silent, ponytailed man nodded, then pushed open the door and left.

The veiled woman remained puzzled. “It’s just the new king’s cat. What are you planning?”

“Trust me, my dear, you know too little about Egypt. You have no real people or sources here.” The handsome man took a sip of ale, wiping the foam from his lips with his fingers. “That cat is no ordinary cat… Go to the ‘Dog Market’ soon, my dear. Who knows? If you rescue that little one, you might just become Egypt’s queen~”

The woman narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him for a moment. Then, as if truly convinced by his seemingly offhanded remark, she abruptly stood up and hurried away.

The man, meanwhile, remained where he was, chin still resting on his hand, his warm brown eyes filled with intrigue as he gazed back out the window.

____

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