PSW Chapter 61: The Crossdressing Cat Starts Business
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“So, you’re f***ing telling me—you want me to wear women’s clothes?!”
Bastet widened his eyes at Yofar, convinced the man had lost his mind.
“Tonight is the banquet to welcome the Assyrian princess. Bastet, be good. You need to wear a dress and appear alongside Queen Consort Batlana and me before the ministers and the Assyrian princess. Not just this time—at future necessary banquets as well.”
Yofar had already changed into formal attire. The maids stood by, holding neatly folded royal consort garments and accessories, their heads lowered in quiet anticipation of the boy’s agreement before they could begin their work.
“Actually, Egyptian men’s and women’s clothing aren’t that different—they’re both white robes. All you need is some makeup, a veil, tied-up hair, and a loose skirt.”
Yofar looked at Bastet with a calm expression, so serious that his eyes held not a trace of unnecessary emotion, as if everything he said was as simple as it sounded.
But…
“Do you know, Yofar, every time you talk nonsense with a straight face, you wear this exact expression…”
Bastet was silent for a second before his face twisted in rage. He suddenly lunged at Yofar, grabbing him by the throat and shouting, “I treated you like a brother, and you took me for a fool! Do I look that easy to trick?!”
“We’re not brothers.”
Yofar caught hold of Bastet’s waist, letting him strangle him without resistance, his face remaining impassive. “I didn’t trick you. Didn’t I make it clear? Bastet, be good. This is all for our future.”
Bastet sneered coldly. He cupped Yofar’s face in both hands, their mismatched eyes—both equally beautiful—locking in a stare.
“Say that again. For what?”
“For our future.”
“Say it again!”
“For—”
Bastet suddenly kissed Yofar on the lips. “Tell the truth.”
The corners of Yofar’s lips curled up slightly, his gaze darkening. Dissatisfied with the fleeting kiss, he let his lips brush teasingly against Bastet’s, their skin grazing in an intimate, ambiguous friction. His voice grew hoarse as he murmured:
“I want to see you in a dress, your face flushed with embarrassment… barefoot on the ground… the polished marble floor reflecting what’s under your skirt… and then I—”
“……”
Bastet’s face instantly turned bright red. His heart was rubbed raw by Yofar’s cool and husky voice—aching and tingling all at once. He coughed dryly under Yofar’s deep gaze, then turned his head away as if burned.
“You pervert!”
Yofar didn’t deny it and simply held him closer. “Wear it, Bastet. I want to see. Grow your hair out a little, too. I like threading my fingers through your hair when I kiss you, playing with the strands. And when the kiss deepens, I want to gently grasp them… holding everything in the palm of my hand…”
“Shut up already!” Bastet couldn’t take it anymore. He covered his ears and glared at him. “Can’t you say something that’s not so damn perverted?!”
“I can.”
“For example?”
“For example, my favorite thing is kissing you. Your tongue has little barbs—they’re soft but grip me so tightly, it feels like they’re dragging my soul out of my body. That’s a fact.”
“And everything you said before wasn’t?”
“It all was.”
“……”
Yofar had the face of a cold, divinely handsome being, and his voice carried a chill, both commanding and dignified. When such a man spoke words so shamelessly explicit with that same impassive expression and tone, the contrast was striking—an overwhelming kind of sex appeal that crashed into Bastet’s brain like a tidal wave.
A temptation luring mortals to sin.
Bastet swallowed, unable to resist the allure, and nodded. He finally agreed to let the maids dress him in women’s clothing.
Too real…
Wrapped in a long-sleeved white dress, his waist cinched by a jewel-encrusted belt, a soft veil draped over his head, his face painted with the bold and vibrant makeup of Egyptian noblewomen… and with two large, round bundles of cotton stuffed into his chest, Bastet sat stiffly in the banquet hall.
Even now, he was still thinking—damn, this is way too real. For Yofar’s beauty, is there anything I wouldn’t do?
—
From the moment Yofar brought Bastet into the hall, the ministers hadn’t taken their eyes off him.
As the Pharaoh of Egypt, Yofar Memphis’s valor and ruthlessness were not unique among past rulers. His bloodthirstiness toward enemies wasn’t either. Compared to some of his predecessors—who flayed people alive, chopped off certain body parts to feed insects and venomous snakes, or stacked severed heads into pyramids—he wouldn’t even make the top five.
However, one thing about their king was absolutely number one in Egyptian history: at twenty-six years old, his harem was still as barren as the desert.
In ancient Egypt, medicine was underdeveloped, and war and disease could claim a life at any moment. Since both men and women matured quickly, Egyptians typically became key laborers in their families by thirteen or fourteen.
Marriage and childbirth by fifteen or sixteen were common.
In Egypt, any man still unmarried at twenty was either infertile or simply too poor. Among nobles and royals—where extravagance reigned—wives, concubines, female slaves, dancing girls, and even male lovers were the norm.
Yet, their current king? Not only did he have none of the above—he had absolutely nothing.
Other nations mocked Egypt’s royal lineage for being thin as a thread.
No—smiled the ministers through gritted teeth.
Not thin—nonexistent.
Many of the ministers had defected to the new king’s faction when Yofar announced he would take a queen. But in the end, he only took a consort, and he never brought her out in public. The ministers had long harbored doubts.
Yet tonight, they finally saw the royal consort for the first time.
And the way their king occasionally glanced sideways at him… was actually tinged with a rare softness.
The ministers were moved to tears. Finally… in our lifetime…
Outliving the Pharaoh finally paid off!
The Egyptian royal family might finally have an heir!
The excited ministers were so fixated on the throne that they barely spared a glance at the Assyrian princess when she was announced into the hall.
Bastet felt his scalp tingle under their intense scrutiny. He nervously tugged at his veil, wrapping himself up even more tightly, fearing they had noticed something.
Yofar saw his reaction and reached out to gently soothe his back. Their eyes met briefly before Yofar’s gaze returned to the court below. Though the exchange was fleeting, Bastet felt significantly reassured.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. They won’t find out, he told himself.
Following Yofar’s line of sight, Bastet looked toward the hall's entrance. Standing there was Yano, her veil removed, revealing delicate, refined features. She wore minimal makeup, her gray-brown eyes clear and pure. Her thick, dark braids were adorned with scattered gemstones and draped over her right shoulder.
She seemed slightly tense, but as a princess, she had to uphold the dignity and pride of the Assyrian royal family. Holding her chin high, she stood straight, her lady-in-waiting and attendants standing respectfully behind her.
Nephthys, positioned behind Yofar and Bastet, exchanged polite pleasantries with Yano, speaking of the everlasting friendship between Egypt and Assyria.
Once the formalities were over, Yano smiled and gestured for her attendant to present a wooden box. Hesse stepped forward to receive it and, after a slight bow, opened it to reveal a scroll of parchment. Holding it aloft, he began to read aloud the words sealed with the Assyrian king’s royal insignia.
The letter, written in the voice of a ruler, first praised the strength and beauty of the Egyptian Empire. It contained the usual diplomatic niceties about a friendship that had never truly existed before finally getting to the heart of the matter:
“It is by the grace of the gods that I have been blessed with such a beautiful and intelligent daughter. Yano is the child of my second queen, and both her mother and I love her dearly. She is so exceptional and well-mannered that I have long hesitated to part with her in marriage. Assyria is wealthy and powerful, and I could not think of a suitor worthy of her—until now.
“At last, she has reached the age of nineteen… and Pharaoh Memphis of Egypt, your conquests sing of your greatness and ferocity. Yet, despite your glory, you have never taken a wife. I believe all this waiting has been fated, for no two people could be better suited.
“My daughter, too, admires your noble bearing. Thus, I have decided to send Yano to your side and present you with a small token of my goodwill. Lastly, may the bond between Assyria and Egypt endure as eternally as the waters of the Nile.”
The so-called “small token” from the Assyrian king took Hesse nearly ten full minutes to read aloud. Gold, silver, jewels, and rare treasures—things that would be considered legendary in any other kingdom—were presented before Yofar as if they were as common as grain.
The ministers turned their stunned gazes toward Princess Yanor.
It seemed the rumors were true—she really was the Assyrian king’s most beloved child.
The so-called "small gift" was, in reality, a lavish dowry. With such an enormous amount of wealth, one might wonder if the Assyrian king had emptied half of his treasury to send it to Egypt. Offering both his daughter and a fortune—who could possibly refuse such a proposal?
Even if Princess Yano were unattractive, their king still wouldn't suffer any losses. But on top of everything, Yano was young and undeniably beautiful!
The ministers whispered among themselves, their hushed conversations filling the hall.
Meanwhile, Bastet, seated beside Yofar, finally grasped what was happening. His emerald-green cat-like eyes widened in disbelief as he glanced back and forth between Yano and Yofar.
So Yano was here for a political marriage!
No wonder Yofar had asked him those questions before. No wonder… Why didn’t I figure this out sooner? Damn it!
But even now that he understood, Bastet found himself in a complicated position. Yano had saved his life—he owed her a debt of gratitude. How could he possibly see her as a romantic rival?
Hesse finished reading and placed the scroll before Yofar, then stepped back to his position. But Yofar didn’t even pick up the Assyrian king’s letter. Instead, he coldly addressed Princess Yano:
“I am not without a wife. I have already named Batrana as my queen consort, and I will crown her as my queen in the future. The wife of the Pharaoh of Egypt must be of close royal blood.”
As he spoke, Yofar wrapped an arm around Bastet’s shoulders, placing his hand on Bastet as a gesture of affection.
The Egyptian ministers were somewhat disappointed but accepted this outcome without protest. In fact, seeing their king openly favoring his consort even made them smile. After all, the closer the royal bloodline, the purer the lineage. The Pharaoh was considered a descendant of the sun god Ra—his decision was entirely in line with tradition!
Yano’s gaze, initially filled with shy admiration, gradually shifted to sorrow and disappointment. Her voice was tight with emotion as she asked, “Is there truly no possibility? I do not expect to be your queen… I only wish to stay by your side…”
Yofar’s golden eyes remained as cold as ever. “As long as I reign, Egypt will have no second queen, and Yofar Memphis will have no second partner. When you return, be sure to thank your father, the Assyrian king, for his generous offer.” He paused, his tone unwavering. “I will return the gifts. However, you are always welcome to visit Egypt as a guest, Princess Yano.”
Yano: “……”
The elegant princess’s eyes instantly reddened. She stood there, helpless and vulnerable, as though struggling to hold back her tears.
Some ministers let out quiet sighs, though it was unclear whether they were lamenting the loss of the extravagant dowry or pitying the princess who had been so coldly rejected.
What should have been a joyous occasion now felt heavy with tension, the once-lively banquet atmosphere beginning to dim.
With a bright smile, Nephthys quickly stepped in to ease the mood. She instructed the maids to escort the princess to a seat, called for fine wine and delicacies, and had musicians and alluring dancers perform to liven things up again.
Before long, the focus shifted away from the rejected princess, and no one paid her much mind.
Except for Yano herself, who sat in silence, her head lowered while her closest lady-in-waiting whispered words of comfort.
Bastet opened his mouth, but seeing her like this only deepened his guilt.
Especially whenever Yofar tenderly picked food for him, gently brushed his lips against Bastet’s forehead, or idly played with his fingers—each time, Yano would steal a tearful, envious glance in their direction.
It gave Bastet a strange, uncomfortable feeling.
As if he were the one bullying Yano.
As if he had stolen her happiness.
Fidgeting with his fingers, Bastet furrowed his brows, silently cursing himself.
But no matter how much he owed Yano, he wasn’t about to pull some idiotic third-rate novel stunt like “Here, take my man”.
As long as Yofar remained devoted, there was no way in hell Bastet would ever step aside.
At most… at most, he’d just find a way to repay Yano’s kindness sooner.
_____
Author’s Note:
Bastet still doesn’t know that Yano is connected to Saya and that her so-called “rescue” was a setup.
Even Nephthys and the others hadn’t expected that after investing so much effort and risking exposure, Saya would pull such an incomprehensible move. But then again, they don’t have an omniscient perspective…
Debts of gratitude are the trickiest things to deal with. I’m sure many of you can relate—how many times have we made compromises in life just because we felt “obligated” to?
Yano never truly intended to marry Yofar.
She—wants much, much more.
She is the true final boss of this story.
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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