PSW Chapter 8: Three-Second Infatuation In the dead of night, Bess staggered around, feeling the urge to poop.
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In the dead of night, Bastet staggered around, feeling the urge to poop.
His sleepy eyelids hadn’t fully lifted yet, but his front paws had already stepped into a round, squat copper basin. Turning around, he plopped his rear down, tail raised slightly, and used his hind legs to scrape at the fine yellow sand, adjusting his position.
His green eyes cracked open just a sliver, checking if he was properly aligned—no mistakes allowed. The lady who had to clean up after him already had it rough enough.
"Meow~"
Position, OK.
Litter, OK.
Angle, OK.
Wind direction, OK.
All set… Time to go! Heave-ho!
Probably because he’d been living with a pervert recently, Bastet felt a little constipated. He clenched his teeth, tail lifted high, struggling for a long time before finally accomplishing his grand mission.
But he didn’t leave just yet. Instead, he remained crouched, taking a moment to… reflect.
Bastet: Even though I’ve turned into a cat, the human tradition of playing on one’s phone while on the toilet remains ingrained. If I don’t sit here for at least half an hour, it just doesn’t feel right… like I haven’t truly finished…
With no phone to scroll through or gossip to read, this empty "awkward phase" was especially unbearable.
Bastet couldn’t help zoning out, his gaze dull as he stared at a random spot, letting his mind wander.
Like how the food yesterday was too salty, how the number of caretakers had increased, and how, despite being only thirteen days old, his life as a cat had already been eventful enough to fill an entire memoir.
And a good half of that memoir would be titled: "Me and My Unlucky, Perverted, Idiotic Pharaoh of a Master."
When Bastet first returned with Yofar and saw his supposed master’s face, only one thought echoed in his mind:
"Husband?! What are you doing here?! Come home with me already!"
T/N: hahahhahahhahahaha
What did it mean to have an exotic, majestic, face-shattering level of beauty?
This was it!
As a self-proclaimed sucker for good looks, Bastet felt: If I stare at Yofar one more second today, I might just hand over my little life.
His heart pounded faster than when he got accepted into the top university back in his human life! And why was he so excited?
Because—this ridiculously handsome man? Was his owner.
And he? Was a cat.
The palace maids at the royal menagerie had whispered that Pharaoh was a true cat slave. Didn’t that mean he’d treasure Bastet to the point of cuddling him to sleep every night? Wouldn’t he be resting his head on his hand, smiling sweetly as he leaned in for a wall-pinning kiss? Wouldn’t they eat and sleep together without a care, and wouldn’t Yofar casually strip in front of him while changing clothes and bathing???
Morning kisses, noon kisses, goodnight kisses, meal-time kisses, cute-moment kisses… Humans! Cat lovers! They kiss their cats every day!
Every. Single. Day.
Just imagining that god-like face pressing against him for a kiss—Bastet, Bastet…
Bastet let out a long, sticky slurp and, like a little pervert, wriggled out of the old lady’s arms and darted toward the bed at lightning speed.
"He’ll never guess I’m actually a grown man inside!" Bastet snickered evilly, practically vibrating with anticipation as he prepared to dive into Pharaoh’s embrace and sprawl across those long, muscular legs—admiring this world-class masterpiece of a face from the perfect girlfriend’s perspective.
"Meow meow meow!"
—Come on, let me sniff you! No, wait, let me be sniffed! Please, sniff me!
The tiny black cat leaped forward, his emerald eyes gleaming with gentlemanly excitement as he pounced toward Yofar.
"Hold on, pretty boy! Your adorable cat granddaddy is here—"
Before he could finish the thought, Yofar, with a completely blank expression, calmly picked up the pillow beside him.
Whoosh—
SMACK!
The perverted little cat was instantly slammed in the face by a soft pillow. The impact nearly flattened his refined feline features into the shape of a Garfield pancake.
Bastet let out a tragic screech, tumbling across the floor, rolling several times before he could figure out which way was up.
After shaking his head for half a day, Bastet finally regained his senses and stared at Yofar in utter disbelief.
"Meow!" What the hell?! You say you like me—IS THIS HOW YOU SHOW IT?!
A PILLOW?!
Why not use a hammer while you’re at it?! Do you want a cat meat pie, you bastard?! Do you believe I won’t just drop dead in protest?!
"…"
As Pharaoh, Yofar frowned slightly at the puffed-up, furious little furball glaring at him. He wasn’t pleased with the cat’s audacious challenge, but considering that his pillow-throwing might have actually hurt it, he suppressed his irritation.
He said coldly, "Little thing, do not approach me without my permission."
…
Huh???
Bastet’ whiskers trembled with rage.
"Meow?" Why not?!
Yofar: "I’m allergic to cat fur."
.
Bastet: "…"
Bastet: I’m broken.
What’s the most devastating news a cat can hear after learning that his owner is a handsome bastard and a self-proclaimed cat lover?
There is.
"Your Unlucky, Handsome, Cat-Loving Master is Actually Allergic to Cat Fur"
In the silent space, there seemed to be a crisp crack—like something had shattered.
Yofar raised an eyebrow. What was that?
Bastet, tears streaming down his face: It was my poor, innocent virgin heart that had been beating for over twenty years, you bastard!
You’re allergic to cat fur, and you still keep a cat?! You call yourself a cat lover?! Do you even deserve the title?!
Wuwuwu…
Why don’t you just go adopt Anubis-sama instead?!
Yofar watched as the little black cat on the floor instantly deflated upon hearing his words. Its tiny, delicate ears drooped lifelessly as it curled up beside the pillow into a miserable little black ball, looking as though it was questioning its entire existence.
For some reason, Yofar’s heart softened, and he chuckled lightly.
What an endearing little thing.
Barefoot, he stepped off the royal bed and walked to Bastet, looking down at him from above. His voice was deep and commanding as he called the cat’s Egyptian name:
"Bastet."
Bastet curled himself up even tighter and ignored him.
"Bastet."
Yofar suddenly said: "I like you very much."
Bastet froze. His little head snapped up, and his emerald-green eyes widened in shock as he stared at him.
Huh?!
Li-Like…?!
That direct confession hit Bastet like a truck.
The fierce and impossibly beautiful Yofar crouched down, his elegant fingers hovering just above Bess’s forehead—so close yet not touching. It instantly drew Bastet’s full attention, making him unconsciously lock eyes with Yofar.
Those cold, icy-blue irises, set deep beneath golden feather-like lashes, shimmered as though something fluid and unfathomable was coursing through them.
When this man set his gaze upon someone, it felt as if they were instantly ensnared—dragged into a vast expanse of sky and water, where only he and they existed.
Bastet’s heartbeat skyrocketed. He felt like he was about to drown in the warmth and amusement lurking in Yofar’s eyes.
"Whether or not I can touch or embrace you, I will always cherish you, treasure you."
"Among all that my eyes have seen, you are the most unique. And in my heart, you are the most special."
"So——" Yofar mimicked the motion of stroking Bess’s forehead, though there was still a sliver of distance between them. "There’s no need for you to throw a tantrum over it."
…!!!
Bastet: W-Wh-Why are you saying it like that?! That’s way too flirty!!
And throwing a tantrum?
Me?! Throwing a tantrum over you?!
Not a chance——!!!
The fur on his face felt like it was on fire!
That indulgent, affectionate gaze made Bastet’s blood rush straight to his head in overwhelming embarrassment!
"Me? Desperate for Your Touch? As If!"
"Meow————!"
—Do you think I’m desperate just because you can’t pet me?! Just because YOU can’t doesn’t mean OTHERS can’t! I’ll find another handsome guy to pet me!
Hmph!
Bastet glared at him, though his confidence wavered slightly.
"Bastet."
Yofar flicked Bastets’s nose. The moment Bastet’s fake fierceness crumbled into a pained expression, Yofar’s lips curved ever so slightly in amusement. Then, he lowered the hand that had been hovering over Bess’s forehead.
Bastet instinctively shrank his neck, thinking he was about to get flicked again. But instead, warmth spread through his belly—before he realized it, Yofar had slipped his hand under him, lifting him right up to his nose!
"Meow meow meow?!"
—What are you doing?! Aren’t you allergic to cat fur?! Put me down!
Bastet suddenly found himself worried about this guy's allergies and struggled frantically, flailing all four legs.
Yofar remained unfazed. Instead, he lowered his head slightly. Just as Bastet panicked, Yofar’s deep, reassuring voice hummed:
"Calm down, Bastet."
His voice, low and husky, stirred against Bastet’s sensitive ears.
Then—
Soft, warm lips pressed against Bess’s damp, unsuspecting pink nose.
"Don't be afraid."
He murmured.
Emerald-green eyes met piercing blue.
Yofar smirked. "By my side, you fear nothing but me—because your master is the master of this land and the gods themselves."
…What an arrogant king.
Bastet found it amusing, but his ears buzzed with static noise. What’s going on? He tried to listen carefully.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump, thump, thump.
What… is that sound?
Bastet stared at Yofar’s face, dazed for a long while before realizing—
It was his own heartbeat…
____
[Author’s Note: (Mini Theater)]
Bastet: If you don’t plan to marry me, then stop flirting!
Yofar: Flirting only counts if it makes your heart race. Did yours?
Bastet: …No… (Lies through his teeth.)
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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