PSW Chapter 53: Father, Please Don’t Kill

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Completed chapter is on my ko-fi page, thank you...

Hi! This is afei, uhhmm I dont know how to start this one but I got a job and I need to do something related to it for more than 6 months so I will continue translating things after it. So I will see you guys laterrr.....

🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

Hurried footsteps echoed through the foul-smelling “dog market,” weaving between the narrow paths that separated the tents.

Nephthys’ attendant, pale as papyrus, clutched the anxious black cat tightly in his arms. He crouched behind a stack of large wooden barrels beside a white tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

The barrels reeked—they were likely used for storing waste, the stench so overpowering it could make a person faint. But Bastet had no time to cover his nose.

Instead, he frantically gripped the attendant’s leg with his paws, trying to press down on the bleeding wound.

The attendant held his breath, letting out shaky, ragged gasps. Even his breathing carried a tremor, making Bastet nearly panic.

"Meow—!"

Bastet carefully pressed down on the bleeding wound while whispering, "How are you holding up?"

The earlier fight had been brutal—the enemies outnumbered them significantly, and they were all armed. Reality wasn’t like the movies; no matter how skilled a warrior was, he couldn’t win against an endless onslaught.

Had Nephthys’ attendant not been exceptionally trained—managing to take down several foes before retreating—there would’ve been no chance for them to escape, even with injuries.

“I’d love to say I’m fine, but…” The attendant closed his eyes briefly, gripping his sword. “At first, I thought they were just common thugs, but that’s clearly not the case. They’re too well-organized, all carrying weapons. The people running this ‘dog market’ deal in slavery and operate in the shadows—they’re used to seeing bloodshed and revenge killings. If they’re not interfering, that means this whole thing was planned. Someone deliberately herded us into this place.”

Bastet’s tail bristled. "But why would they recognize us? Even if I am the Pharaoh’s cat, I hold no power or status, let alone enemies. I mean, if someone had a grudge against me, it would be another cat!"

The attendant shook his head. “I don’t know either.”

Bastet’s fur stood on end as approaching footsteps grew louder. His ears twitched as he quickly meowed, "They’re getting closer. Can you still stand? Maybe you should leave me behind and run! I’m a cat, I can climb—wait, what the hell is that?!"

He had just looked up to assess their escape route when he spotted it—a massive, nearly transparent white net stretched across the entire marketplace.

Because of his low vantage point and the chaos of their escape, he hadn’t noticed it before. Now that he had, his heart sank.

Nephthys’ attendant sighed, grimacing as he endured the pain. “See? We can’t escape. This market doesn’t just trade slaves—they smuggle rare animals too. That net is to prevent them from escaping. And if they don’t find us soon…” He exhaled slowly. “They’ll release the dogs.”

Bastet froze, swallowing hard.

"M-Meow…"

D-Dogs…

If there was one thing Bastet feared more than water or someone pulling his tail, it was dogs.

Even when he smelled the scent of large hounds on Sok, he wanted to bare his claws.

“I never thought I’d meet my end… while taking a cat for a walk,” the attendant muttered, looking weary and exasperated. He cast a sidelong glance at Bastet and, perhaps because he was already resigned to death, murmured, “And of all things, to die alongside a cat as black as you. I still haven’t even seen your face clearly… If I make it to the afterlife, I don’t even know how I’ll explain this to Anubis—‘My final companion? Oh, just a pitch-black cat with an unknown face.’”

Bastet: “…”

Really? We’re about to die, and you still have the energy to roast me?!

His golden eyes flickered with indignation, but the attendant only chuckled softly. Then his expression hardened.

“I’m going to charge out. I’ll kill as many as I can and buy you time,” he said. “Bastet, retrace our steps and escape. The Pharaoh must have realized you’re overdue—he’s likely already sent people to look for you.”

Bastet’s fur fluffed up in panic. "But what about you? What’ll happen to you?!"

The attendant shook his head. “That depends on fate.”

Bastet felt a chill deep in his bones.

Fate?

They were being hunted. What kind of fate could possibly save him now?

"Meow!"

"Can’t we just wait a little longer? What if—just what if—Yofar’s men find us first?"

The attendant looked down at the black cat staring up at him with soulful green eyes, filled with fear and concern. He exhaled softly, his gaze growing gentler. Ignoring the Pharaoh’s warnings, he reached out and stroked the cat’s head.

Bastet instinctively shrank back, his ears flicking slightly before perking up again. He heard the attendant murmur:

"We can’t wait. My leg won’t hold out that long. If I lose too much blood, I won’t be able to slow them down."

His voice carried a tragic resolve, making Bastet’s eyes well up with tears. He sniffled.

"Lord Bastet, can you at least remember my name?" The attendant chuckled weakly. "Maybe tell the Pharaoh to give me a posthumous title, something like ‘valiant warrior,’ so that saving you wasn’t in vain."

"Meow—!" Fine! Just tell me! I swear I’ll remember!

Bastet blinked away his tears and waited eagerly.

The attendant parted his lips and solemnly said, "My name is Aelsadreimanbruchi Lio-Nabeskoribeth van Gasilidod."

Bastet: "……"

Are you sure you just said a name? Not some kind of magical incantation? Like a "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo", summon-the-princess, call-upon-the-rain-goddess spell that saves the world?!

The cat lord sat there, utterly baffled. He hesitated before meowing, "W-Wait, uh… big brother, can you say that again? Something something ‘-dod’?"

The attendant repeated patiently, "Aelsadreimanbruchi Lio-Nabeskoribeth van Gasilidod."

Bastet struggled, his tongue twisting in knots. "Ael—uh, not Lulululu? Gili-Sia-dod?"

"It’s Aelsadreimanbruchi Lio-Nabeskoribeth van Gasilidod!" The attendant sighed, emphasizing every syllable.

After repeating it ten times in his head, Bastet’s brain short-circuited. His tongue failed him. He stared blankly before finally giving up.

He raised a paw and gave the attendant a thumbs-up. "Gotta say, your dad is a genius."

The attendant: "???"

Bastet continued, "My dad only named me Bastet, and even he sometimes forgot my full name."

He remembered in his past life, and his father attended a parent-teacher meeting.

The teacher had asked, "Bastet’s father, which student is your child?"

His dad had scratched his head in confusion, paused for a long moment, and then asked back: "Uh… what’s my kid’s name again?"

…During parent-teacher meetings, teachers usually pointed out students' shortcomings to their fathers. But that time, the teacher, with a face dark as thunder, spent an entire day reprimanding Bastet’s dad instead.

"……"

The guard—Aelsadreimanbruchi—let’s just call him Aelsa. Aelsa listened to Bastet’s complaints, half-amused, and didn’t pay much mind to the way the cat kept referring to ‘Dad.’

"Forget it, it’s fine if you can’t remember my name."

Watching the black cat squinting its eyes, muttering to itself while using its paws to gesture as if trying to memorize the name, Aelsa chuckled. He softly said, "I’m going out now. Lord Bastet, stay close to me!"

Bastet froze, staring at the guard in front of him with a heavy heart. Though they hadn’t interacted much, Aelsa was still a human life. Yet here he was, protecting Bastet at the cost of his own. The thought of it made Bastet’s heart ache.

If only someone—anyone—could come to their rescue.

Even if a nearby merchant alerted the city guards, that would be enough.

But Bastet was no longer a naïve child. He knew that in the real world, miracles were rare…

The approaching footsteps were now dangerously close, accompanied by the low growls of dogs.

Hearing the panting growls, Bastet’s fur stood on end. He swore under his breath. These bastards actually brought dogs!

Aelsa set Bastet down, knelt on one knee, and gripped his sword tightly. He began the countdown:

"We’re making a run for it. Get ready… 1… 2… 3, go!"

Aelsa charged out first like a man immune to injury, slashing at the search party with his blade. Caught off guard, the enemy faltered, giving him the upper hand for a brief moment.

Bastet didn’t dare look back. He ran so fast his paws were a blur, dashing madly toward the exit, hoping to escape and return with help for Aelsa. His heart felt like it was going to explode.

Aside from the two men Aelsa initially struck down, the rest of the thugs—disguised as lowlife ruffians—quickly reacted, their faces dark with hostility. They surrounded Aelsa in silence, and to make things worse, they released the dogs after Bastet.

The clashing of metal and agonized screams echoed behind him. Bastet was halfway through his sprint when he heard the snarls of the hounds. He glanced back—only to see four or five massive dogs, jaws wide open, fangs bared, saliva dripping, all charging straight at him!

His legs nearly gave out. His soul almost flew out through his nose.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit—!

They’re coming for my life! Even ten of me wouldn’t be enough to feed five hunting dogs!

Tears streamed from Bastet’s eyes as he ran for dear life, pushing his body to its absolute limit. His soft paw pads—so accustomed to comfort—were torn by the rough, filthy streets of the "Dog Market," splinters piercing his skin. Tiny, bloody paw prints dotted the ground.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain and pushed forward, his breath and heartbeat reaching their breaking points.

Inside his head, he screamed Jafar’s name over and over, cursing himself for being such an idiot—why did he ever think going out for a stroll was a good idea? Now he had even dragged Aelsa into this mess!

The sprinting black furball could hear the dogs closing in. He had already started mentally composing his final words to Yofar when—finally—hope appeared.

Scrambling around a corner, Bastet didn’t dare open his eyes too wide, afraid of seeing his own blood splattered everywhere.

He dodged a cage in his path, only to suddenly crash headfirst into something solid. The impact sent him flying backward. He tumbled across the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a dizzy halt. His sleek black fur was covered in dust, and pain shot through his neck, spine, and skull, as if they were splitting apart!

Excited barks filled his ears. His head spun, but he struggled to get up—only to collapse again, pain stabbing through his back and neck.

He lay there, motionless.

It was over.

It’s over.

Bastet lay sprawled out like a crumpled black rag, unsure whether he’d be devoured whole or torn apart piece by piece.

He shut his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable—expecting sharp fangs to sink into his flesh.

But instead of the bite of a hunting hound, he heard pained yelps and frantic barking.

And then—warm hands gently lifted him from the ground.

Startled, Bastet felt the soft embrace and caught the faint scent of perfumed balm. His eyes shot open in surprise, hoping against all odds that Jafar had miraculously come to his rescue.

But the person holding him wasn’t Yofar.

It was a veiled woman.

She was dressed in a pristine white gown, covered by a modest, earth-toned cloak. Delicate braids, adorned with gemstone ornaments, peeked out from beneath her hood, cascading over her right shoulder in thick, dark waves. Though her face was concealed by a translucent white veil, Bastet could tell she hadn’t painted the long, dramatic eyeliner favored by Egyptians. Her brows were only lightly shaped, yet her natural beauty was striking—her soft, refined features exuding a quiet elegance.

It made one wonder just how breathtaking she must be beneath the veil.

"You poor little thing, that must have hurt."

Her voice was soft and low, carrying a faint foreign accent. It was a pleasant sound.

Bastet panted, his breath shaky. He had hit the woman with so much force that his entire body ached unbearably.

The woman glanced over her shoulder. Almost immediately, a maid stepped forward, head lowered, respectfully holding out a cloth.

Without hesitation or distaste, the woman cradled Bastet carefully, using the cloth to wipe the dust from his fur.

Her warm, amber-brown eyes met his as she reassured him, "It’s alright now… Those dogs have been driven away by my attendants."

Hearing her words, Bastet’s heart, which had been clenching with terror, suddenly plummeted back down—leaving behind only the hollow aftermath of his fear.

I’m… alive. I actually survived…

Wait!

Aelsa!

"Meow! Meow!"

Miss, please—please save my companion! He’s surrounded by those thugs! You don’t have to go yourself, just call the patrol guards! I beg you!

Bastet was too afraid to ask this kind woman to put herself in danger, so he only pleaded for her to summon help.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly in shock upon hearing the cat’s cries. Then, as if realizing something, she murmured in awe, "You’re… the cat god? The Egyptian cat god truly possesses divine speech… My heavens…"

She quickly shook off her amazement and assured him, "Don’t worry, little one. I’ll send someone to rescue your friend immediately."

"Meow!"

Thank you! Thank you so much!

Seeing her nod in confirmation, Bastet’s nose tingled, and his eyes grew misty with relief.

Peering anxiously in the direction he had come from, he silently urged, Hold on, Aelsa! I found someone to help you!

The woman holding the black-furred bundle immediately ordered four of her attendants to take action. One was sent to find patrol guards on the main street, while the other two rushed toward the gang of thugs, hoping to save the captive in time.

Meanwhile, the woman remained in place with two of her maids, carefully tending to Bastet’s wounds.

Bastet worried that her attendants might be overwhelmed and warned her, but she simply glanced down at him, playfully winking as she smiled. “Don’t worry, my attendants are quite skilled. They might even be stronger than your Egyptian Pharaoh’s elite guards.”

Bastet had no idea who she was or what kind of power she held, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. His only concern was waiting for Aelsa’s rescue.

Roughly ten minutes passed.

Astonishingly, the woman’s attendants returned even before the patrol guards. One of them carried Aelsa over his shoulder—bloodied, unconscious, but still breathing. His eyes were slightly open, proving he was alive.

"Meow—!"

Aelsa—!

Had it not been for his injured back, Bastet would have leaped out of the woman’s arms in sheer relief.

Sensing the cat’s excitement, the woman held him more securely, keeping a firm but gentle grip. From the very beginning, she had never once let go.

Bastet was too overjoyed to process anything else—until the thunderous sound of galloping hooves roared from behind. The forceful, imposing presence was nothing like that of a patrol unit.

Everyone turned their wary gazes toward the entrance of the "dog market."

Before long, Bastet spotted a regal, strikingly handsome figure riding toward them. Clad in extravagant garments and adorned with intricate royal ornaments, the man wore the distinctive double crown of Egypt.

It was Yofar, unmistakably.

Judging by his elaborately detailed attire, he must have come straight from a council meeting—just to search for his missing cat.

"Meow…"

Oh my gods… He actually found me…

Bastet gulped, his tail curling inward.

Fresh from a near-death escape, the little black cat should have been thrilled. But as he took in Yofar’s cold, pallid expression—his face practically frozen over with an icy wrath that could slice through steel—fear quickly outweighed relief.

Especially when Yofar’s piercing ice-blue eyes locked onto the only black-furred creature in the crowd.

The sheer force of his glare felt like a thousand daggers flying straight at Bastet.

His lips curled into a sharp, humorless smirk as he growled out in a dangerously low voice, “Bastet.”

Bastet: "…"

The tiny black cat trembled, slowly raising a paw.

Uh…

D-Daddy, your son is right here. Can we, uh… not resort to murder?

Whimper…

____

[Author’s Note: [Mini Theater]]

Black Kitten: Daddy, Daddy, I was wrong!

Yofar: Heh. Time to die.

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