My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 17

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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 017
A woman who, not long after her husband’s death, had secretly sent a gift to another man.
If so, it seemed reasonable to assume the two shared an intimate connection.
‘But…… she didn’t seem like the type to be so reckless.’
Then, suddenly, Claude found himself amused by his own deliberation.
“My lord, why have your eyes gone narrow like that? You look frightening all of a sudden.”
“…….”
“Please don’t make that expression. Sometimes it appears in my dreams. Truly, I wake up from sleep.”
“Be quiet.”
Never before had he judged another person with such haste, and the unease born from that strange sensation soon festered into genuine displeasure.
“……It troubles me. It’s annoying.”
“Should we send someone to investigate right now? If gossip spreads for no reason, Ortega could suffer the fallout…”
It was for that reason Claude had cut Hope off without hesitation.
“No, forget it.”
“Sir?”
“It’s tedious.”
To think he was mobilizing his entire imagination over a single painting as a gift.
There was nothing amusing about it.
“You seem to think I’m some grand duke or other, but I’m just a figurehead. Surveillance, interference—I never had such authority to begin with.”
“But my lord. There’s no harm in being cautious. What if my lady is plotting something…”
Claude slammed his hand against the desk as Hope tilted his head, still uneasy despite all his reasoning.
“It’s just a painting, Hope.”
His voice filled the space with certainty.
“Will a painting kill someone?”
* * *
Historically, the roots of House Pistachio lay in commerce.
Particularly in luxury goods, their reach was absolute, and they amassed enormous wealth without the taint of vulgar speculation, living the enviable life that anyone might covet.
……Yet those who possessed such things rarely comprehended their true value.
[Pistachio Merchant Guild Remains Silent Despite Quality Disputes…… Still in Second Place]
—”Finest Merchant Guild of the Year,” as selected by Empire citizens…… Cashew Merchant Guild takes the crown. Fifteen consecutive years of triumph recorded.
In a survey of one thousand Empire citizens asking for “the Finest Merchant Guild of the Year,” the Cashew Merchant Guild claimed a commanding seventy percent of all responses, securing an overwhelming first place. Experts note that this result carries significance beyond a mere popularity contest, considering comprehensive factors such as scale, distribution stability, and consumer satisfaction……(excerpted)……
Meanwhile, the Clodel Merchant Guild claimed third place, a mere five percentage points ahead of the Pistachio Merchant Guild.
“……Again, second place?”
His voice trembled with rage.
Gail crumpled the newspaper he’d been holding into an ugly ball and hurled it to the floor.
Crunch, crunch, crunch!
Beneath his rough boots, the face of the Cashew Duke printed on the paper became ragged and torn.
“Damn it…… Damn it all!”
Breathing hard, he collapsed into a chair. He wanted to flip the table over right then and there out of fury, but now was the time to understand the root cause.
Gail pressed his temples rhythmically, entering into complex calculations.
‘What’s the problem exactly?’
To focus on luxury goods—the exclusive domain of the nobility—and accumulate wealth sufficient not to bring shame upon the family name.
That had been the method House Pistachio had long upheld.
But Gail’s calculations differed.
‘Build wealth, and doesn’t honor naturally follow?’
As a result, the guild’s scale had grown noticeably, but it wasn’t long before crude quality and inexperienced management came under scrutiny. The expansion had been too rapid.
It was perhaps inevitable, but Gail found the criticism difficult to accept.
‘How did I come to this point…’
The inferiority complex that had only just subsided reared its head again.
‘If Father had been even slightly more capable, I wouldn’t have had to struggle like this.’
Gail’s face contorted painfully, and as was his habit, he found himself thinking of one person.
‘If I had been born in Ortega…… like Camille, I could have lived without a care, doing nothing but idling my life away.’
But that thought came to an abrupt halt, as though it had struck a barrier.
“……Ah.”
Gail’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.
“Is it rude to think such things about someone already dead?”
A laugh escaped him.
Right! No matter how much wealth and honor one possessed in life, when death came, it was all worthless.
Whatever Camille had been in life, now the facts were clear: Gail held a position far superior to his.
‘Yes…… the guild’s issues can be managed smoothly. I’m alive, after all. It’s entirely possible.’
Nothing had been resolved, and yet it felt as though everything had been. He raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, as if toasting to some invisible triumph.
But moments later, the servant’s sudden and peculiar report made Gail’s brow furrow deeply.
“……A gift has arrived for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a quiet Saturday morning.
For a man without even a single young noblewoman in the running for marriage discussions, such a gift had been a rarity for far too long.
“Who sent it?”
“Well, I’m not entirely certain……. Ah, but there was a letter enclosed.”
“A letter?”
The servant merely held it out with both hands, saying nothing more.
Gail examined him with suspicious eyes before reluctantly accepting the letter and tearing open the envelope on the spot.
Upon the pristine white paper, unmarked by any sender, his own name was clearly inscribed.
To Count Gail Pistachio.
I regret that I could not find an opportunity to introduce my painting at the exhibition.
Though my work remains unpolished, I offer it to you as a token of my admiration.
I sincerely wish that your future may be blessed with abundant good fortune.
“……What? A painting?”
The letter carried a subtle floral scent. He felt he had encountered it somewhere before, yet the memory eluded him.
Seized by a faint curiosity, Gail gestured with his chin toward the servant to unwrap the gift.
“Open it.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the white veil wrapping the canvas fell away to reveal the large oil painting beneath, Gail gasped involuntarily.
“Oh, this……!”
An endless expanse of sunflower fields filled the entire canvas.
Yet upon closer inspection, something felt rough about it.
‘Crude. The brushwork lacks finesse.’
Gail examined the painting closely, his eyes narrowed.
Some flowers gleamed with particular brightness, while others bore the deep gold of honey. The brushstrokes were coarse and honest, so that the texture of each petal seemed to pulse with life. And the sky in the background was hazy, as if white paint had been hastily layered over blue.
Because of this, it was difficult to call it a master’s work. And yet his eyes could not look away.
It was probably—because of that single, small box in the middle of the vast flower field.
‘Why on earth is that there?’
There it sat, neither buried nor fully revealed among the sunflowers, starkly solitary.
Its matte, dark color clashed entirely with the brightness around it. Yet because of this, it caught the eye all the more sharply.
After staring at the painting for some time, Gail finally parted his lips.
“So then, who sent it?”
“……Pardon?”
“Don’t repeat my question like an idiot—tell me who the artist is. Even if the letter has no name, you handled the thing yourself. You must know something.”
“Ah, oh!”
The servant’s face paled instantly as he understood, and he quickly bowed deeply.
“That is… I am terribly sorry, but I cannot quite recall…….”
“What did you say?”
“It arrived by a carriage with no markings whatsoever, so I… I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“That makes no sense. You simply didn’t look properly!”
“I’m dreadfully sorry!”
Gail snapped at him irritably, pressing a hand to his throbbing temple.
“Sigh…….”
Gail was far too temperamental. As a result, the household servants were constantly being replaced, leaving gaps like this one.
Yet Gail interpreted the situation entirely differently.
‘I need to earn more money. Then I can hire truly competent people instead of these idiots.’
At that moment, the bowing servant spoke again, tentatively.
“However…… something does seem odd about this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Is it customary for an artist to send a gift in such a manner? Especially when the letter bears no signature at all?”
“Hmm…….”
“It feels… peculiar, sir. Perhaps it would be best to discard it.”
Gail nodded absently at the suggestion.
‘He’s right. Besides, I’ve never been close to the arts, and I didn’t even purchase a single painting at this sponsorship exhibition…….’
Why would anyone send a painting to him of all people? No matter how he considered it, the whole affair seemed strange.
And yet…….
‘Why is that fool saying something that makes sense?’

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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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