My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 12

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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 12
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The Charity Support Exhibition, which had been in disarray, closed to great success.
A few days later, having stepped into the painting, I was summarizing for Camille the newspaper article I’d read that morning.
“So there was a huge article about the exhibition on the front page. The content was something like this…….”
But perhaps because he hadn’t been there in person, it didn’t seem to reach him.
“Hmm…….”
He, who had been distracted the whole time, suddenly brightened as if struck by an idea.
“I’d like to see it directly. Could you paint it for me?”
“The newspaper?”
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t hide my bewilderment.
“But drawing all those tiny letters would take quite a long time. It would be better if I just told you about it instead.”
“Is that so?”
With that, Camille curled up the corners of his mouth, dusted off his hands lightly, and gestured for me to follow.
“Ah, this is a secret. Come with me for a moment.”
Following Camille, we arrived before a pristine white canvas.
A clear sky, a profusion of flowers stretching across a field, and a lone canvas standing in their midst. Camille, positioned before it, resumed our earlier conversation.
“Alright, Aub. Step outside and paint a square box for me.”
“A box?”
“Yes. About this big.”
Camille spread his arms wide to indicate the size.
Reluctantly stepping outside the canvas, I picked out a brownish paint and sketched a small box onto the flower field.
‘This should be fine, shouldn’t it?’
It was a pathetic drawing—little more than a brown rectangular prism—but I nodded vaguely with dim eyes.
When I returned, Camille was waiting for me with his arms crossed before the wooden box.
“I suspect I painted it without much care…… but anyway. What do you think might be inside this box?”
“I didn’t really imagine anything when I drew it.”
“Try imagining something anyway.”
“Well. Since we’re in a flower field, I’d guess something like fertilizer might be in there?”
“That’s right. It probably is. Now open it.”
What on earth was he trying to do?
As Camille gestured, I approached the box and pretended reluctance as I placed my hand on the lid.
Yet when I opened it, to my astonishment, a single bag of plant fertilizer lay inside. Exactly as I had imagined it.
“How…….”
Looking up at me with an astounded expression, he spoke with a low laugh.
“Aub. Everything you imagine becomes real inside here. I can make it happen.”
“Is such a thing…… truly possible?”
My voice was mixed with doubt and hope.
Camille nodded without hesitation.
“Of course. If you don’t believe me, try it again.”
I steadied my breath and stood before the closed box.
This time, I thought clearly. Seeds would be inside.
The moment I opened the lid again, there lay a small packet of White Magnolia Seeds beside the fertilizer bag, as if it had been there all along.
“This is absurd…….”
I swallowed hard without meaning to.
Everything I imagined manifested as reality. Could anything be more magical than this?
“But it’s not all-powerful. My ability has limits.”
Limits?
“Let’s see…… yes.”
With that, Camille closed the box once more and asked me a question.
“Now imagine that a living whale is inside this box. What do you think?”
“What?”
“Can you picture it? A whale fitting inside this box?”
“No. The size alone is impossible from the start.”
A doll of similar shape might be another matter.
But a real whale couldn’t possibly fit.
I shook my head firmly.
“Right?”
As if he’d expected that answer, he flipped the lid open. And there, to my surprise, lay a plush whale doll.
“……!”
Camille tossed the doll to me and pressed it into my arms as he added his explanation.
“I only help turn your imagination into reality. So anything you unconsciously believe is absolutely impossible can’t exist in this painting in the first place.”
“Ah…….”
“It’s only natural, really. The true owner of this painting isn’t me—it’s you, Aub.”
Surely not.
Then what about…?
“You’re saying you conjured those bungeoppang out of thin air too……?”
“Exactly right. I didn’t even know what they were to begin with. But they tasted good. Sweet.”
It was rather like discovering that some famous restaurant’s legendary secret sauce had been a commercial product all along.
‘Give me back my sense of wonder!’
As I stood speechless, my face struck with shock, Camille burst into laughter.
Beneath the fractured sunlight, his playful smile scattered like something fresh and green.
Lost in that sight, I only snapped back to my senses when a hand was suddenly thrust before my eyes.
“So then—the newspaper?”
* * *
A moment later, seated in a chair, he slowly scanned through the newspaper’s contents.
[Charity Support Exhibition Concludes with Great Success!]
— House of Ortega Sets New Record for Highest Winning Bid…… Unexpected Figure Draws Attention
The Charity Support Exhibition, which was scheduled to open next month, concluded with remarkable success at the Capital’s Exhibition Hall on the O-th. The organizers stated that “numerous works from the exhibition were sold at an early stage, demonstrating strong interest,” and all proceeds from sales would be donated in full to relief efforts in the Slum and regional community support.
Below the article that sprawled across the newspaper’s front page was additional content.
In particular, this exhibition saw the record for the highest winning bid updated once again by House of Ortega, drawing considerable interest.
The person who won the bid on the work in question is Claude Ortega, known to be the brother of the late Duke Camille Ortega, and this event marked his official debut into society, which drew significant public attention.
Some attendees expressed concern about House of Ortega’s recurring pattern of patronage year after year, noting that it could appear as excessive sponsorship competition, contrary to the original intent of charity.
“Mm…….”
As Camille read through the newspaper, a thin line creased his brow. At the end of his gaze were three circles drawn in vivid red.
“So there are three of them?”
I nodded, as if I had been waiting for the question.
Gail, Pagoda, and Densum.
The red circles drawn over photographs captured as if by paparazzi looked unmistakably like a kill list. They resembled a warning note from a murderer who had already marked his next targets.
And that murderer was none other than me.
‘Stop wavering, Aub. It’s too late to turn back now.’
I couldn’t escape the sudden surge of resistance. As I took a deep breath, Camille studied my face with an air of curiosity.
“I was half-worried you’d suddenly ask if we could break the contract…….”
Then the corners of his eyes curved into a pretty arc as he smiled.
“Looks like you’ve already decided. Who to kill first.”
Rather than respond to the word “kill,” I shifted the conversation by pointing to one face.
“Gail Pistachio. That person seems most suspicious to me.”
“An appetizing name. What’s your reason?”
After hesitating for a moment, I barely managed to part my lips.
“……There was a tip. A lead.”
“A lead?”
Leaving Camille with his flickering eyes waiting for an answer, I cast my gaze into the distance.
Inside the carriage heading back to the Mansion after the auction.
Romain had said something strange to me.
“Among those attendees you were staring at so intently, do you happen to know who the gray-haired man is?”
“You mean Pistachio the Baron? Yes. But why?”
Perhaps—it might become an important clue in what I was about to do.
“It’s just that I thought I saw that man at a reception…….”

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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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