My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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My Husband Lives in a Painting — Episode 10

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Most people believe that those who commit heinous crimes possess fundamentally different brain structures — beings so alien that ordinary minds could never comprehend them.
But the truth is otherwise. After all, they too are only human, helpless against their own nature.
In small biological reactions and involuntary physical responses, a culprit inevitably reveals their tail like an animal caught in a trap.
……I’d read something like that in a detective novel once.
At any rate, the strategy I’d recalled was what some called a Frontal Breakthrough.
A few days later, standing before the venue with “Charity Relief Sponsorship Exhibition” emblazoned across its entrance, I found myself replaying a conversation I’d had with Camille.
“I’m something of a victim myself, so wouldn’t someone give themselves away if they saw me here?”
Camille had agreed with my reasoning, but cautioned me all the same.
“Still, be careful. The world’s wide, and lunatics are plentiful.”
‘Fair point.’
I nodded.
As I bobbed my head and reached into my bag for the ticket, I lifted my gaze at the sound of Romaine’s voice.
“Madam, I’ve never been to a place like this before……!”
Romaine bounced on her heels like a child, her excitement barely contained at the spectacle of an auction house she’d set foot in for the first time.
The tension that had made my shoulders rigid began to ease, thawed by her genuine delight.
Inside, arriving nobles had already gathered in small clusters, conversing in hushed tones.
“Wow… I’ve never seen paintings this large hung in frames before. Are they auctioning off all of these today?”
“That’s right. All the proceeds will be donated.”
“My goodness…… Oh! Madam, look at that!”
Romaine seized my sleeve eagerly, pulling me toward a massive sunflower painting rendered in bold, vivid hues.
“I heard somewhere that if you keep a sunflower painting in your home, money comes pouring in.”
“Is that so? Should I buy you one?”
“Oh no, that’s all right for me. I’m still homeless, after all.”
‘So that’s the problem.’
……When Romaine got a home, I’d have to gift her a sunflower painting without fail.
I stroked her head gently as she smiled with pure, untroubled joy, and moved deeper into the exhibition.
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At the prime location deep within the Exhibition Hall, the crown jewel of today’s auction stood on display — the most expensive painting of the event.
Not some unknown newcomer’s work, but a masterpiece by a celebrated artist whose name I’d seen in newspapers more than once.
Its overwhelming prestige drew crowds that milled around it in dense clusters.
“Wow……. That’s an incredible painting.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Madam. Drawing is a hobby of yours, after all.”
“A hobby, yes, you could call it that.”
“Then do you think your paintings might hang in a place like this someday?”
The words were so innocent and hopeful that I felt a bitter laugh catch in my throat along with a sharp breath.
‘Me? Impossible.’
I was talentless from the start — I’d never even properly learned to draw a clean line.
This time, I’d simply gotten lucky enough to finish a painting; I had no gift for creating works that could command people’s attention in a setting like this.
‘A single miracle doesn’t become skill.’
It was precisely as I sank into these thoughts that it happened.
As though pulled by an invisible hand, my gaze suddenly snapped toward one direction.
I stopped abruptly and, by reflex, ducked behind a pillar.
Romaine, who had been gazing contentedly beside me, followed suit.
“Madam, do you know them?”
“Shh.”
“Oh, yes.”
Through the press of the crowd before the painting, the shapes of the men I’d been looking for finally came into view.
Sharpening my focus through the noisy atmosphere, fragments of their conversation began to reach my ears.
Gale Pistachio’s voice pierced through first.
“Throwing money away, I see.”
A bitter, irritated laugh.
The next voice belonged to Pagoda Boutier.
“How much are you planning to spend today? If you want to save face, you’ll have to spend more than last time.”
Last came Densum Kalangkoe. His cynical voice cut through sharply as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“When will the Imperial Palace finally stop wasting time on meaningless gestures like this, hmm.”
‘Even after all this time, they haven’t changed.’
They all wore expensive coats, wine glasses catching the light in their hands, and they were exactly as I remembered them.
Lucky ones who had inherited titles early or climbed to the pinnacle of wealth.
Yet there drifted from them, unmistakably, that peculiar thirst-tinged scent that those unable to settle for their station exuded.
“Damn it. How much longer are we supposed to pour money into this garbage of an event?”
“Well, it’ll continue as long as Ortega doesn’t pull out. But Gale, you’re hardly in a position to say that, are you? You’re a beneficiary of it, after all.”
“Beneficiary? From that pittance?”
Densum seemed to notice the eyes around us, lowering his voice.
“Both of you, watch your tongues. There are too many eyes here.”
But it didn’t seem to register with either of them.
“I can’t fathom why you’re so angry. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.”
Pagoda swept his gaze across the room with a smirk.
“When else will we get a chance to gather all these proud daughters of noble houses and appraise them?”
“Densum. How about you shut that lunatic’s mouth instead of mine?”
Densum pressed his temple and exhaled slowly.
“God, I’m going mad.”
The three men continued their endless conversation, though they seemed merely killing time while waiting for the auction to begin.
Sensing it was time, I abruptly seized Romaine’s shoulder.
“Romaine.”
As my voice fell with deliberate weight, her eyes widened like a startled rabbit’s.
“Yes?”
“Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Yes? M-ma’am! Where are you going!”
An urgent voice followed from behind, but I didn’t answer.
And shortly after, I slipped silently into one corner of the Exhibition Hall.
Like a visitor who had wandered in by chance, I kept my gaze lowered and moved slowly forward.
I stopped before a painting and gazed at it for some time, then moved to the next, and repeated this several times.
It wasn’t long before a reaction came.
“Wait. Isn’t that Camille’s wife?”
“I think so. Must’ve come as Ortega’s representative.”
Low whispers brushed past me from behind.
I pretended not to hear, keeping my eyes on the paintings as I drew closer to them.
“Still, something about the atmosphere seems different.”
“Oh, are you finally discovering the allure of a married woman?”
“Keep your mouth shut, Pagoda.”
That madman.
One day I really ought to sew that mouth shut.
I clenched my fists where no one could see.
Then, as though I’d finished admiring all the works, I turned my body toward where they stood.
I took care to play the part of someone who had stumbled upon them by chance, my expression perfectly innocent.
“Oh.”
Less than a month had passed since the funeral, and here I stood in a black dress with a respectful bow—a pitiful sight, surely.
Yet there was one among them whose reaction struck me as distinctly strange.
“Ahem, cough. I think I’ll head into the auction hall now.”
It was Gale.
“Already? Why not stay a bit longer?”
“No, no. There’s no point lingering here. And my health isn’t good today, so I’ll excuse myself early.”
“All right then. See you in the auction hall.”
I watched his retreating figure, heavy-footed and swaying, with eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Could it be…?’
Gale was the one among the three men who had never hidden his jealousy of Camille.
The very person I’d suspected most was now acting so openly guilty.
As suspicion hardened into certainty, I was about to follow him—
“Madam!”
…
“I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this.”
Another fish had caught me.
“Have you recovered your composure by now?”
Damn it.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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