PSW Chapter 66: It's All My Fault
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It was a rainy day, the sky dark and misty, with occasional muffled thunder rolling through the clouds.
All the children at the kindergarten had already been picked up by their parents, leaving behind only Bastet, dressed in soft pink, looking like a tiny candy-colored sprite.
Bastet sat in the office plastered with children's messy drawings, his little legs swinging in tiny leather shoes as he sat on a chair that was too big for his size.
A gentle male teacher was on the phone with his mother.
On the other end of the call, Bastet’s mother, Mrs. Mary, sounded anxious and apologetic. Every word she spoke carried a sigh—sighs that Bastet could repeat by heart.
Because during his childhood nights, he had repeated them countless times…
This was a nightmare, Bastet thought expressionlessly.
He had no idea why, just a second ago, he had been in Yofar’s arms, confronting Yano, and in the next moment, he was suddenly trapped in this childhood trauma. It was as if a part of his memory had been erased, like a blackout after drinking too much.
But Bastet didn’t dwell on it for long—the conversation between the gentle male teacher and his mother had already ended.
That teacher… had lied to his mother.
And his mother had even thanked him repeatedly, thanking him for taking care of little Bastet, who only knew how to cry—soft, delicate, and beautiful.
But after hanging up, the male teacher could no longer suppress something within him. He panted heavily, gripping the phone tightly. His thin hands and neck bulged with veins, while his pale cheeks flushed pink.
He glanced at the obedient, adorable little boy sitting on the chair, his greedy gaze lingering on Bastet’s watery eyes, his tear-streaked face, and the redness at the corners of his eyes and nose.
The man’s pale skin grew even redder, making the freckles on his face stand out even more.
Bastet glanced over his trousers and twitched the corners of her mouth.
Oh.
Disgusting.
Just as he remembered, the impatient kindergarten teacher quickly walked to the wall and turned on all the lights. He locked the office door, then walked to the window and closed the curtains to make sure everything was safe.
When he turned around and rushed over, he was so excited that he almost stepped on a watercolor pen and fell down. He cursed "Damn it" and held on to the table, then staggered back to Bastet.
The man took off the shoes on little Bastet's feet in an evil, dirty, yet extremely pious manner, and held Bastet's feet with his pale hands, which were as cold and stiff as a dead person, and trembled.
His pupils constricted, nostrils flaring, face flushed and neck thick, his intoxicated and lustful look was disgusting, just like taking illegal drugs.
Bastet, who had transformed into a child, tilted her head.
This time seems to be different from previous nightmares.
Have my dreams ever been so clear?
Although the memory of being almost molested as a child is horrific and deep, his parents are very responsible parents.
They took the young Bastet to see a psychologist in time, and slept in the same bed with him for two years, holding little Bastet's hands on both sides. Every time Bastet woke up from a nightmare, his parents would wake up immediately and coax him in a soft voice.
The sense of security brought by family and the love of parents gradually smoothed out the scars. Besides, it had been so long, and it was the last time she had this nightmare. Bastet could only vaguely recall the general content. Details like holding the table, freckles, breathing rhythm, expression, etc. were so clear.
Clear...
Bastet thought for a long time and remembered a word: deliberate.
It's like when you're watching a horror movie and the director deliberately zooms in on scenes that remind you of ghosts.
And now, Bastet has become the unlucky male protagonist who is scared to death, the perverted male teacher, and the evil and scary devil!
Nightmare is driving.
The male teacher kissed Bastet's forehead, with something ugly flashing in his eyes. He smiled and asked Bastet: "Dear, do you like the teacher?"
Bastet: I like you, teacher!
Bastet struggled to spit on this scumbag face, but she seemed to be trapped in a chair by someone, unable to move, and was forced to follow the plot.
"like!"
Little Bastet smiled shyly, his little face flushed.
The teacher was also laughing when he heard this. His hands were shaking as if he was pulling out the fan strap of a long-awaited gift, and he took off the children's bib jeans of Little Bastet...
“Crack—”
The thunder outside roared even louder, and the urgent wind, carrying heavy rain, slammed violently against the window. The rusted iron window frame let in a sharp, whistling draft that howled like a mournful cry.
The thick curtains, stained with patches of grime, rustled. The messy, childlike drawings on the wall fluttered noisily.
The man before him, still wearing that gentle expression, twitched uncontrollably. As he continued to undress little Bastet, his trembling had spread from his hands to his entire body. Bloodshot eyes gleamed with twisted excitement, and glistening saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. He looked like a grotesque monster, ready to devour its prey.
Disgusting—
What the f*—**
Bastet’s adult soul, trapped inside his childhood body, cursed furiously, helplessly watching as his younger self was being preyed upon, unable to stop it. The father who should have burst into the room to save him was nowhere to be seen.
Panic surged through him. Cold sweat drenched his back. The teacher’s icy, corpse-like hands crawled over him like a slithering snake. His stomach churned violently—he felt sick.
“Somebody help me! Someone, please—Yofar… Yofar! Help me, Yofar! Yofar…”
His childhood body became a sinking swamp of terror, desperately clutching at his own pant leg, trying to drag him down into the nightmare.
His emotions were out of control. He only knew fear. He only wanted to scream.
“Meow!”
A sharp cat’s cry suddenly rang out, slicing through the storm-ridden room like a blade. The piercing sound stabbed into Bastet’s mind, twisting violently.
“Ah—my head!”
Bastet clutched his head, gasping in pain.
A pitch-black cat, as if leaping through the surface of water, suddenly appeared in the nightmarish room.
Its body was long and slender, yet its bones were large. Its tail curled at the tip, and beneath its thin, triangular face, a pair of cold, golden slit pupils gleamed with an eerie chill.
The black cat locked its gaze onto the depraved teacher. But the man couldn’t see it—he was still busy, feverishly pulling at Bastet’s clothes.
The cat seemed to contemplate for a moment, then suddenly leapt onto Bastet’s shoulder, letting out a soft, low meow.
Bastet froze, momentarily stunned. His headache vanished. Surprised, he tilted his head, locking eyes with the black cat.
The golden irises, slit vertically down the center, reflected everything like glass.
And in their depths, Bastet saw a man—a grown man—his face twisted in horror.
A voice, light and distant, whispered in his mind:
That’s you… The twenty-year-old Bastet. An adult with an enviable career.
“Meow~”
The black cat let out a soft cry.
And then, someone—neither quite male nor female—laughed softly.
"Bastet, you’re already an adult. Are you still afraid of him? That man isn’t even stronger than you anymore.”
Bastet stiffly lowered his head.
Everything had changed.
He was no longer a child.
He was tall. He was no longer sitting in the tiny chair—he was perched on the teacher’s old, rickety wooden desk.
His legs were long, clad in denim jeans.
And the soft pink shirt his child self had worn… had transformed into a white lab coat—the standard attire of his research institute.
…I’ve changed.
Bastet looked down at his hands.
The frail man crouching between his legs still moved like an NPC, following the script with slow, mechanical actions. But Bastet’s once-frigid, fear-stricken heart had now settled into an eerie calm.
“Meow~”
The voice—neither entirely male nor female—spoke again:
“Yes… Just like that. Bastet, he can no longer make you afraid. Go on, do what you want to do.”
The black cat leapt off Bastet’s shoulder and sat properly on the desk, tail elegantly curled over its paws, watching him with quiet amusement.
Bastet took a deep breath.
Then, his expression went blank as he looked upon his former nightmare.
“You know… I used to be terrified of you. Your face consumed my entire childhood.” He whispered to the frail man kneeling before him.
“Because of you, I couldn’t bring myself to be near adult men. Because of you, my mother spent years blaming herself, agonizing over why she didn’t pick me up that day. When my father found out about my sexuality, he wept… He thought it was because of you—that you had twisted my mind, making me incapable of loving women. No matter how much I tried to explain, the guilt never left them…”
Bastet rose to his feet, glaring down at the pathetic figure before him, his chest heaving with barely contained fury.
Gritting his teeth, he spat out each word with venom:
“You’re a disgusting child-molesting pervert. A worthless, filthy son of a bitch.”
With a powerful kick, he sent the man sprawling onto the floor. The hollow, puppet-like figure hit the ground with a loud thud, his grotesque expression still frozen in place.
“You sick, fucking bastard!”
At that moment, an indescribable rage ignited inside Bastet, consuming him entirely. He lunged forward, fists flying, beating the wretched figure senseless. His eyes burned red, his voice hoarse with curses, each punch landing harder than the last.
“Crack—”
Thunder roared. Rain poured down in torrents. The entire room trembled violently.
The black cat remained perched on the desk, unbothered, watching the scene with unreadable eyes. It glanced at the crumbling walls, then turned away, dissolving seamlessly into the air—vanishing without a trace.
Bastet, his hands bloodied, stood in the center of the room, panting heavily.
By the time he regained his senses, everything had disappeared.
The frail man—gone.
The black cat—gone.
And around him stretched an infinite void of darkness.
“What the hell…?”
He wasn’t completely blind in the abyss—he could still see a few meters ahead. Cautiously, he took a step forward. The solid sensation beneath his feet felt like stone slabs. As he moved, the light followed him, as if some unseen force had activated a tracking function, keeping him constantly illuminated.
“Well, at least this makes it easier to find Yofar.”
After everything that had just happened, Bastet had pieced together the truth—this was no ordinary nightmare.
His last memory before waking up here was of Yano kneeling before him. Apart from Yofar, there had been no one else in the bedchamber.
Which meant—
Yano must have done something to bring him here.
And if Yano went through all that effort, his true target was definitely not Bastet.
Yofar must be trapped too—maybe locked away somewhere, maybe trapped in a nightmare just like this. I have to find him!
“This is all my fault… If Yano hadn’t claimed she saved me, Yofar never would’ve let Nephthys and the others leave! This is on me! Am I a complete fucking idiot?!”
Bastet crouched down and pounded his own head with his fists, his fingers digging into his arms as if he wanted to tear his own flesh apart. His eyes were bloodshot, his heart twisted into a tight knot of guilt and self-reproach. Fear gnawed at him for what Yofar must be going through—all because of him.
They were in Ancient Egypt, after all!
If someone took advantage of Yofar’s imprisonment to scheme against him… if those ministers made a move to seize his throne…
“I’d rather just die! How could I be so stupid?!”
Tears spilled down his cheeks, sliding into the corners of his mouth, leaving behind a salty bitterness that made him clutch his chest in agony.
Bastet would rather be trapped in this nightmare forever in Yofar’s place than let Yofar suffer or be put in danger because of him.
In his ears, countless cruel voices whispered hatefully:
"It’s all your fault. It’s all because of you. If it weren’t for you—”
“…Ugh.”
Bastet bit down hard on his hand, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to calm his emotions.
“Yofar, wait for me. I’m coming to find you!”
He wiped his tear-streaked face with his sleeve, then shot to his feet. Picking a direction, he bolted forward without hesitation.
It didn’t matter if it was the right way—he had to start searching!
[Author’s Note: Small Theater & Next Chapter Preview]
Bastet (guilt-ridden): It’s all my fault!
Yofar, with an icy and commanding expression: It’s not your fault. I just didn’t anticipate this.
Bastet (even more guilty) hugs him: Waaah! My man always pretends to be strong—I feel so bad for him! I’ll never trust anyone again if it means putting you in danger!
Yofar rests his chin on Bastet’s head, smiling meaningfully.
By the way, Yano never intended to harm Bastet. To her, the Cat God was neither a threat nor an enemy. She knew the Eye of the Gods couldn’t hurt ordinary people. In the story, it was mentioned multiple times that she thought Bastet’s eyes were pure. That’s why she never considered that Bastet might also experience nightmares.
As for the mysterious black cat that saved Bastet in his dream… heh heh, can you guess who it is?
(Of course, Yofar, the cunning and scheming top, is not included—he’s still waiting for Bastet to find him so he can act all pitiful and be pampered. What a sly dog.)
This dumb author scoffs at him in the name of the moon! 🌙✨
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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