PSW Chapter 60: Even the King Cannot Resist…
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Today, the Egyptian palace was supposed to be as busy as ever.
Yet, even as the sun climbed high in the sky, the king was nowhere to be seen in the council chamber, nor were the two high priests. It wasn’t until lunchtime that an attendant finally informed the ministers they had the day off.
A day off?
Did their king even know what a "day off" was?
The ministers exchanged bewildered glances, dumbfounded by this unexpected leave. While whispering among themselves about the king’s absence, they reluctantly dispersed.
—
That night, in the king’s bedchamber.
Yofar lay on his back on the royal bed, his hands crossed over his abdomen. His platinum hair cascaded like flowing water over the soft pillow beneath his head. His eyes were closed, his eyelashes utterly still. From his forehead to his nose, down to his lips and chin… the elegant contours of his face resembled mountain ridges accentuated by the evening sun—serene and breathtaking.
A trail of red-purple kiss marks stretched from the left side of his neck down to the hollow of his collarbone. Occasionally, there were four tiny, blood-red punctures aligned in a neat pattern—the evidence of someone’s later indulgence.
Yofar remained motionless, his chest the only thing gently rising and falling, as if he were asleep. Yet Bastet, who knew the truth, was curled up beside him, covering his mouth and snickering like a leaking balloon.
Bastet looked pitiful. His emerald eyes were tinged with red, his eyelids swollen enough to turn his double eyelids into single ones. A scabbed wound marred his rosy lips, and his creamy cheeks bore numerous marks—not to mention his neck and the nape of his neck…
Aside from his hair, even his ankle bones were adorned with deep purple kiss marks. The scattered imprints across his body resembled a leopard’s spots—or perhaps, a tattoo of some kind…
Bastet wriggled his fluffy, curly-haired head—his cat-like ears twitching slightly—as he burrowed into Yofar’s arm. The exquisitely handsome figure beside him slowly opened his eyes, revealing a pair of icy blue irises. He glanced at the restless little creature beside him before loosening his arm and pulling him closer.
“Yofar, do you know something?” Bastet grinned foolishly when he saw Yofar open his eyes. “I may look miserable too—my tail won’t even lift—but pfft hahaha—damn, I really feel bad for you! Hahaha! You’re allergic, allergic right there, and it’s itching so badly you can’t even move—hahaha! Ow! No, no, I have to stop laughing—ugh, my ass hurts…”
Yofar gazed at Bastet’s scrunched-up, grimacing face and slowly curved his lips into a faint smile. He reached out, gently hooking a finger around the sacred pendant hanging from Bastet’s neck, his fingertip tracing the delicate, engraved lines.
“We really are quite the pair of oddballs.”
Bastet, having just recovered from the pain, recalled the events of the previous night and couldn’t contain his giddy excitement.
"After an intensely harmonious night, we’re both left injured. The esteemed Pharaoh himself is so allergic that he couldn’t even attend the morning court, and the poor, unfortunate me—who was subjected to said harmony—has to stay in bed to accompany him. Clearly, I was the one who suffered the most pain, but now that I see you’re worse off than I am, I actually feel a lot better! Hahaha! Serves you right for treating me badly before—itch yourself to death!"
Yofar wasn’t the least bit angry.
His eyes reflected Bastet’s lively expressions—his teasing, his playful jabs—as though he were carefully imprinting every moment into his mind. The cold depths of his pupils were filled with an indescribable tenderness, as if his gaze alone could caress Bastet’s face and capture him entirely within his vision, etching this moment into the deepest recesses of his being.
When Bastet laughed again, Yofar followed suit.
"Hey, let me check—has the swelling gone down?"
Bastet, his cat ears twitching, burrowed downward to inspect Yofar’s condition. A moment later, he crawled back up, burying his face in Yofar’s neck, stifling another fit of laughter.
"What do we do? It’s still swollen—pfft hahaha! Maybe I should apply another layer of allergy cream? Normally, it works instantly—why is it taking so long this time? Didn’t the maid say that Nephthys and Hesse are still waiting outside?"
As he laughed, a sudden thought struck Bastet—if the allergy somehow led to severe consequences, what then?
Wouldn’t that mean… he’d have to be widowed for the rest of his life?!
Holy shit!
Bastet’s face changed instantly, and he rolled over to get out of bed. “Wait, I’ll go find more ointment—”
“It’s fine.”
Yofar tightened his grip around Bastet, pulling him back into his arms, his voice low and hoarse. “It’s already getting better. The ointment from last night was medicine.”
Because Egypt’s master was allergic to cat fur—but had finally adopted a cat—the female attendants had prepared at least ten boxes of anti-swelling and anti-itch ointment in the king’s bedchamber.
Last night had been rushed, so Yofar had used the ointment as a substitute for a certain something.
Bastet suddenly blushed at the thought. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Wait a minute—why is it still swollen?”
“It’s not swelling.”
Yofar leaned in close to Bastet’s cat-like ear, gently tugging at the tip as he murmured, “It’s… that… understand now?”
Bastet: “……”
Upon hearing that last word, his eyes suddenly felt like they were burning. He had the sudden urge to kick Yofar hard.
“From today onward, you are no longer the abstinent god in my heart!”
Yofar chuckled lowly. “Then what am I?”
Bastet glared at him. “A shameless scoundrel who just happens to still be good-looking!”
Yofar said nothing. His long, narrow eyes squinted slightly as he curved his lips and pulled Bastet into an even tighter embrace.
The two lazed around in bed for a while. Once a certain barrier was broken, the entire world seemed to change completely—so did the way they interacted.
At least for Bastet, it did.
Now, even the air seemed to carry the scent of fruity perfume, floating with pink bubbles. Yofar’s embrace, his scent, and his warmth were more comfortable than anywhere else Bastet had ever been.
Love.
Especially first love…
People always fall in headfirst without reason. The moment the pain fades, they forget it ever existed. A single trace of sweetness is enough to dissolve all hardship and bitterness. It’s like drinking far too much wine—completely intoxicated but never dizzy. Walking down the street, they can’t help but hum a tune, maybe even break into a little dance, stepping lightly on clouds of cotton candy—each step leading them closer to him.
Leaning in, rubbing against each other—no words needed. Just a glance was already a deep kiss.
Even when Yofar closed his eyes again, pretending to nap, Bastet still foolishly smiled as he counted his eyelashes—counting out a sense of deep, lingering affection.
So happy.
Hehehe…
It’s hard to put into words, but so happy.
How is he this beautiful? And how do I love him this much?
Bastet let out a soft hoo~, his breath making Yofar’s thick lashes tremble slightly. One moment, his hand was stroking Yofar’s face, tracing the sharp and commanding lines of his brows and eyes. The next, he was poking at the seam of Yofar’s lips.
Like pulling a tiger’s whiskers, Bastet pinched Yofar’s soft, pale lips together into a silly shape. Then, with an impish grin, he poked at Yofar’s collarbones and the little dimples on his body. He held Yofar’s cool, slender hands, studying each neatly trimmed fingernail. Whenever he discovered a tiny mole somewhere on Yofar’s body, it was as if he’d stumbled upon a new continent…
Yofar, like a lazily napping white lion, occasionally cracked his eyes open to watch the mischievous little black cub climbing all over him. The corners of his lips curled up ever so slightly before he let his eyes drift shut again, indulging Bastet’s playful antics.
Between their teasing, they casually brought up the matter of Princess Yano.
Yofar said, “Don’t go to her anymore.”
“Why not? She saved me.”
Bastet let out a few dissatisfied grumbles, his tail curling around Yofar’s thigh, the tip flicking in protest.
Yofar half-opened one eye, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Because I’m jealous.”
Bastet: “……”
The little black troublemaker twitched the corners of his lips upon hearing the word jealous. He wanted to laugh but held it back, instead pouting as if he didn’t care.
Yofar continued in an indifferent tone, “Think about it—if I suddenly accepted a princess sent by a vassal state, if I spent my days with her instead of you, only returning at night, and then at dawn, I went back to her chamber, to her bed—”
“No way!”
Bastet panicked, grabbing onto Yofar’s hair. “No way! I won’t allow it!”
Yofar hummed in response, then returned the words to him, “That’s right. No way. I won’t allow it.”
“……”
Bastet fell silent for a moment before finally nodding. He fiddled with the cool strands of hair in his hands and muttered, “I won’t go to her anymore… But you can’t meet strange women or princesses either. You can’t ignore me and go to someone else’s room… I know I can’t control you. You’re Egypt’s Pharaoh.”
His voice dropped. He felt as though he was making an unreasonable demand. Yofar had too much—so much that Bastet never dared to ask for anything, afraid that Yofar would think he was overstepping.
He couldn’t bring himself to boldly declare: You are mine.
Yofar was the ruler of the Egyptian Empire. If Bastet claimed him as his own, wouldn’t that mean he was laying claim to all of Egypt?
“I know all that… But I just want to say, if you ever choose someone else, I’ll leave.”
And he’d leave fast. Faster than anyone could stop him.
“Mm, alright.” Yofar patted the curls at the nape of Bastet’s neck. “When you leave, take me with you. You don’t even know how to read a map.”
Bastet’s mouth twitched. “…How do you know I can’t read a map?”
Yofar: “I saw you in the council chamber. When I mentioned Lower Egypt, your paw was pointing at Upper Egypt. When I said Assyria, you were looking at the Shuliya tribe.”
Bastet: “……”
What the— Bastet, both embarrassed and furious, slammed his head into the iceberg that was Yofar. The “iceberg” merely laughed, his chest shaking with deep, amused vibrations.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Bastet immediately tensed, tilting his head up to look at Yofar.
“You said Nephthys and Hesse must have noticed… this between us. Do you think they’ll do anything about it?”
Yofar shook his head. “They won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because aside from you, everyone else already knew that I would fall in love with you.”
“……”
“Nephthys is very clever. She’s probably already convinced Hesse. They know I won’t share my love with anyone else. So instead of trying to stop us, they’ll find a way to install a nonexistent queen in the harem to appease the ministers, hide your existence, and then figure out a solution for the royal lineage.”
Bastet was in utter disbelief. “Nephthys and Hesse aren’t stopping us? They’re actually covering for us?” What kind of international joke was this?!
“Why wouldn’t they?” Yofar said calmly. “I am Egypt’s Pharaoh. They cannot change my decision. As my subjects, they can only serve my will.”
Bastet remained expressionless, even feeling a bit sympathetic toward the two devoted high priests.
Serving a king as domineering and unreasonable as Yofar—wasn’t that a surefire way to shorten one’s lifespan?
After a long while, the female attendant entered again and softly reported that the two high priests were asking whether the Pharaoh had awakened.
Yofar sat up, instructing her to bring in the maids to assist him in dressing and washing. As he rose, the blanket shifted, allowing the cool air to seep in. Bastet, reluctant to let go, wrapped his tail around Yofar’s waist.
His man was too busy.
…His man.
Heh heh.
Bastet couldn’t help but grin foolishly again.
When the elderly attendant, Alina, entered with the maids, she showed no reaction to the sight of Bastet still lying in bed, his bare back exposed, revealing a large patch of kiss marks. Instead, it was Yofar who turned his head, walked over to the bedside, and pulled the blanket up to cover him.
Once Yofar was fully dressed, Nephthys and Hesse finally arrived, each carrying a thick stack of reports. As they stepped inside, Nephthys cast a fleeting glance at Bastet, her smile unwavering.
Hesse, however…
Bastet sneakily observed the stern and rigid high priest grinding his teeth at him—especially when his gaze landed on the pendant of the god Min hanging around Bastet’s neck.
Bastet met his gaze and immediately thought of one phrase—pupil earthquake.
It looked as if Hesse wanted to charge over and bite Bastet to death. But in reality, he merely let out a cold snort before continuing alongside Nephthys, following Yofar unhurriedly to the cushioned seats to begin their report.
Bastet let out a sigh of relief—Yofar hadn’t lied to him.
No one had stepped forward to stop them. No one had pointed at Bastet and cursed him. The tension in his chest eased as he gazed toward Yofar’s figure through the sheer curtains.
His tongue brushed against the sharp tips of his teeth before he closed his eyes.
With his arms crossed behind his head, he lay there, lips curving despite the faint soreness.
His mind filled with boundless dreams of a future with this man. Even when Yofar wasn’t by his side, Bastet felt as though he was floating in bliss.
I’m in love.
My boyfriend is so cool, so handsome!
And he’s a freaking KING!
Bastet exhaled, relaxing as he lay on the bed, forcing himself to stay calm and rest.
Meanwhile, outside the curtains, Hesse bowed and spoke to Yofar in a low voice.
“My king, now that matters have reached this point, the matter of appointing a queen must be handled swiftly. The harem currently recognizes a nonexistent Batrana—the second Egyptian princess whom you had executed. She was only given the title of consort, but if she were to be elevated to queen, she would be expected to appear at important events alongside you. The ministers may start to suspect something, so we must find someone to take Batrana’s place as queen.”
Nephthys nodded in agreement. “Princess Batrana was cautious of you while she was alive and never appeared in public. Even during the selection ceremony, she kept herself fully covered… Aside from the palace servants, the ministers never saw her true face.”
“So?” Yofar lifted his gaze, coldly staring at the two.
“So…”
Hesse took a deep breath and stared at the handsome king, enunciating every word carefully:
“Bastet’s figure is similar to Princess Batrana’s. Perhaps…”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
But all three of them knew exactly what he was implying.
Yofar’s expression darkened in an instant. Resting his chin on his hand, his ice-blue eyes gleamed sharply from below.
The air grew unbearably tense. Hesse and Nephthys held their breath, fearing the king would lash out and reject them outright.
Just as they braced for his fury, the king finally spoke—
“Hesse.”
“…Yes?”
Yofar’s eyes flickered. “I’m increasing your salary this year.”
“……………………”
The two high priests stared at their king, their faces blank as they caught the faintest trace of… anticipation in his expression.
Silence.
…So.
Even the mighty Conquering King…
Could not resist the allure of a cat-eared boy in a dress, could he?
_____
[Author’s Notes – Mini Theater]
Yofar: Young man, cat ears, black curls, a cat tail, a dress…
Bastet: WTF?! YOU OLD BASTARD!!!
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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