PSW Chapter 63: I Want It
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"When the investigation into Bastet's assassination attempt was handed over to Breton, we still couldn't determine the culprit's true intentions. However, we did uncover something else..."
Nephthys handed a parchment scroll to Yofar and then passed a copy transcribed onto papyrus to Hesse.
She said, "The man who infiltrated the palace and was involved with the two princesses—Saya—was actually the prince of a tribe that had once been eradicated by Egypt. They called themselves the Moving Kingdom of the Desert and worshipped the god Min.
"But in reality, the entire tribe was nothing more than a band of cunning desert raiders, notorious for kidnapping travelers and attacking caravans. When Egypt wiped them out, you chose to exterminate them rather than enslave them due to their fierce and unruly nature. However, a small number still managed to escape."
Nephthys lowered her voice as she spoke to Yofar. "Saya is their last prince. They scattered across various nations, forming a vast network in the shadows, persuading other displaced people to join them. Over time, they grew into a formidable force, frequently inciting slave uprisings in Egypt's major cities.
"As for Yano—Breton discovered that she mysteriously vanished from the palace at the age of fourteen. There were even claims that she was spotted in a gladiatorial arena. That same year, Saya also spent some time in the underground fighting pits."
"They knew each other?!"
Hesse's brows furrowed tightly as he gripped the papyrus, his expression darkening.
From his throne, Yofar turned to Nephthys. Seeing his gaze, Nephthys nodded in confirmation.
"For this reason, Breton even went out of his way to confirm... Yano and Saya did indeed know each other as children."
A princess who had spent her childhood in a gladiatorial arena could never have been the weak, pitiful, love-struck woman they had seen before—especially since she knew Egypt’s enemy, Saya, the leader of the rebel organization.
Nephthys suppressed the twitching of her eyelids. A bad premonition loomed over her...
“She met Saya years ago. Knowing him doesn’t necessarily mean she was involved in the incident with Bastet, nor does it mean she will act against Egypt.”
“But—” Hesse set down the papyrus, gripping his staff tightly as he looked toward Yofar. “This woman must not remain in Egypt! My king, we must send her back to Assyria as soon as possible!”
“I agree,” Nephthys echoed.
Yofar placed one hand on the table, leaning back in his chair with his other hand propping up his chin, as if deep in thought. His slender, pale fingers tapped slowly on the last word of the parchment before him.
Tap, tap, tap.
His narrow eyes were half-lidded, concealing the icy blue glow within.
Then, in a cool voice, he spoke: “Nephthys, Hesse.”
Nephthys straightened. “Yes.”
Hesse responded, “I am here.”
Yofar glanced at them. “You’re telling me that a princess spent years in a gladiatorial arena, and the King of Assyria didn’t know?”
Nephthys hesitated. “...He probably wouldn’t be unaware.” Why was the king suddenly asking this?
Hesse was equally puzzled, but after some thought, he answered firmly, “Impossible. He would have known.”
A faint, enigmatic smile crossed Yofar’s lips. “Then it all makes sense.”
Nephthys: “...”
Hesse: “...”
What makes sense?!
Just as the two High Priests were still trying to piece it together, the grand hall doors swung open. A man dressed in a servant’s robe hurried inside, keeping his head lowered as he walked swiftly along the wall toward Nephthys. The weight of multiple gazes pressing down on him made sweat bead on his forehead.
Pressing his lips together, he leaned closer to Nephthys and whispered, “Lord Nephthys, a message just arrived from Lady Jia, the attendant responsible for caring for Lord Bastet. She reports that the Assyrian princess suddenly appeared at His Majesty’s bedchamber—not to seek an audience with the king, but with Queen Batrana (Bastet). The attendants and Lord Bastet do not know what to do, so—”
Nephthys jerked her head toward him, her voice rising sharply, “Who?! The Assyrian princess?!”
The servant, startled by his master’s sudden outburst, immediately nodded. “Yes, that is what the attendant told me.”
“What a troublesome woman…”
Hesse’s face darkened, and just as Nephthys was about to ask the king for permission to investigate, a blur flashed before her eyes. By the time she regained focus, she only caught a glimpse of Yofar’s swiftly retreating figure.
“Hesse, let’s go!”
Nephthys called out to her colleague, and both gripped their staffs tightly as they hurried after their young king.
…
“Meow~”
Bastet perched on the smooth stone windowsill.
The wooden lattice windows were swung open on both sides. Inside and outside the window, a beautiful black cat tilted its head, locking eyes with the woman standing just half a meter away. The royal guards, utterly loyal to the king, kept a cautious distance, gripping their weapons tightly as they fixed their watchful gazes on the delicate yet striking Assyrian princess.
"I'm quite surprised that you actually agreed to see me."
Yano stood precisely at the designated ‘safe distance,’ not moving a single step forward. She smiled brightly at the black cat before her. The wind lifted a few loose strands from her braided hair, carrying a light fragrance that drifted into Bastet’s nose.
"Your eyes are beautiful—like a mix of gold and green, like fireworks bursting in the night sky."
Bastet, feeling slightly embarrassed, was about to meow in response when Yano cut her off.
"I know that Egypt’s cat gods don’t use their mouths to speak to their followers. You’re fascinating—you can send thoughts directly into the minds of those you wish to communicate with, right? So just tell me directly. I might be leaving Egypt soon, and experiencing something so mystical before I go sounds quite nice."
Bastet curled her tail around herself and nodded. "Alright."
Yano closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the youthful voice echoing in her mind. Her smile deepened. "Mm, this really is incredible—divine messages and all."
"You… Why did you come looking for Yofar’s queen?" Bastet hesitated before adding, "Cough, I’m just asking. Are you planning to persuade her to stay in Egypt?"
To Bastet, only it—a foolish little cat—still believed that Yano was some lovesick, fairytale princess.
"Haha, you’re adorable." Yano chuckled, unable to contain her amusement at the cat’s pure, untainted gaze. "Why would I beg the queen? Why would I want to stay in Egypt, hmm? I don’t even like Yofar Memphis."
Bastet’s golden-green cat eyes widened. "…Huh?!"
Seeing the cat’s shock seemed to delight Yano. One by one, she casually dropped bombs that sent Bastet’s mind into a frenzy.
"Not only do I not like him, but I also know that the so-called ‘queen’ is a fake. There is no Queen Batrana in this palace."
"…"
"As for the woman at the banquet before—oh wait, maybe he would be more appropriate. That was a man, wasn’t it?"
"…"
"And someone once told me that you’re not an ordinary cat. Not just because of your divine messages, but because—" She chuckled. "—the Book of the Dead’s resurrection of the deceased."
"!!!"
"Yano, you—" What the hell?! How do you know everything?!
Bastet stared at the woman before it—so fresh and delicate, like a dewdrop-laden branch in the morning sun. Yet, in that instant, her smiling lips curved in a way that sent chills down Bastet’s spine.
She knew everything.
But why? For what purpose?
A cold shiver ran down Bastet’s back. For a moment, it felt like turning tail and running—or calling the guards. Are all ancient people this terrifying?! Holy shit!
Outside the window, Yano tilted her head, now dressed in a beautiful gown adorned with crimson rubies along the pleated fabric. Pressing a hand lightly to her ear, she squinted, as if trying to hear the panicked voice in her mind more clearly.
"Truly fascinating." She repeated, smiling. "Even your quickened breathing—I can hear it inside my head."
"..."
Bastet swallowed hard.
"You don’t need to be so nervous," Yano reassured it. "I mean no harm. Even though I know the truth, your relationship with the Egyptian Pharaoh Yofar Memphis has nothing to do with me. Even if I receive valuable information, all I can do is get thrown into a political marriage by my father. In royal power struggles, protecting my own life means I can’t afford not to be smart."
She shrugged. "I like you a lot. And as for the Book of the Dead being real? I’m not that surprised. Nor do I have any intention of burning you at the stake like some heretic. I’ve seen artifacts similar to the Book of the Dead since I was very young. Every kingdom has treasures passed down from the gods—I believe in their existence."
"Besides," she added with a teasing smirk, "your expression is way too honest. Hahaha, I was only fishing for information, but you gave yourself away without me even asking."
Bastet felt as if it had fallen straight into a trap. Embarrassment and frustration burned through its body—it wished it could just curl up and die on the spot!
What the hell… How can I be this stupid?!
The little black furball took a deep breath, determined to regain its dignity. Staring at Yano, it declared firmly, "Yano, I owe you my life. You once saved me, and I will repay that debt in another way. You’re smart, and you know a lot—there’s no way your purpose in coming to Egypt is as simple as it seems. But if you ever intend to harm Yofar, I will stop you!"
"Stop me?"
Yano laughed silently to herself. Do you have any idea how much death and slaughter I had to endure just to survive the gladiator pits?
Adorable little one, how exactly do you plan to stop me?
Just as that thought crossed her mind, a wave of approaching footsteps echoed from the palace corridor. Yano turned her head—and as expected, she saw him. The king who looked almost too perfect to be real, his expression cold and unreadable, striding toward her with his high priests and soldiers in tow.
Tall and lean, his frame was built for battle—strong, yet refined. His presence commanded absolute authority, a noble arrogance that was innate rather than learned. And there, gleaming between strands of platinum hair, rested the twin crowns of Egypt.
Yano envied him.
She envied Yofar’s throne.
She envied his male identity.
Yet she remained unfazed. With time to spare for a final jest, she glanced at Bastet and murmured playfully, "Bastet, your master is here. He really does care about you, doesn’t he? He was so afraid I, a vicious lioness, might snatch away his precious little black kitten."
"…"
Bastet ignored her now. It had finally seen through the woman before it—her bright, fresh smile was nothing but a mask.
The more you say, the more mistakes you make.
This is beyond me, Bastet admitted to itself. Against someone like her, only Yofar can handle it.
Compared to her master, Bastet was nothing but a pig painted black to look like a cat.
Yofar came to a stop at their left, his cold gaze fixed on Yano. Without a word, he reached down, gloved hands lifting Bastet into his arms, holding it close against his chest.
Yano met his piercing, gem-like blue eyes. Her usual smile faded into nothingness.
"It seems today is a very good day," she said, her voice cool.
"Let’s talk, King of Egypt."
Her tone dropped to an icy edge. "I’m tired of acting in front of men like you. It’s exhausting. So let’s lay all the cards on the table."
She took a step forward.
"And I am here," she continued, "to formally request an alliance—on behalf of my father."
Yofar, unsurprised, merely gazed down at the woman before him. His expression remained impassive as he took in the scent of blood lingering faintly around her.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Yano’s lips curled slightly.
"The Assyrian throne," she said.
"I want it."
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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