My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 21

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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 21
Adoption Record List.
Within it lay a dense compilation of personal information—names of certain clients and details of children whose transactions had already been completed.
Camille crumpled his face in disbelief as he spoke.
“……How could you do such a thing? Buying and selling children from the Orphanage!”
“C-Camille!”
Gail seized his pant leg and clung to him, tumbling excuses from his lips.
“I-I never meant to do this from the start! I just wanted the children to go to good homes and live happily……!!”
“If that were truly your intention, you wouldn’t have done it like this.”
Camille appeared to be encountering the existence of Illegal Adoption for the first time.
His pupils, seized by shock, trembled sorrowfully as though unable to believe what he was seeing.
“I…… never thought you were capable of such a thing.”
“C-Camille!”
Even confronted with such ugly truth, Camille’s gentle nature remained unchanged. He wanted to leave Gail one final escape route.
“I’ll give you a week. Wrap up all your operations by then.”
“……O-one week?”
“In return, I’ll take this list with me. I’ll take it upon myself to bring the children back.”
“What? That’s not acceptable!”
‘Without the client list, the next transaction will fall through!’
Watching Camille’s retreating figure as he gathered the documents and vanished, Gail tore at his hair.
‘Curse it all—the only lifeline to cover the Merchant Group’s deficit!’
Guilt?
For a businessman like him, such cumbersome emotions had been lacking from birth.
That was when it happened.
‘Hm? That…….’
From where he sat crouched on the floor, a single sheet of paper that had miraculously escaped notice caught his eye.
“Anmarie. Seventeen years old…….”
Yes. By coincidence, he had a buyer waiting for a child of that age range. And a regular customer at that, one willing to pay a handsome price.
“J-just one more time, and then I’m done. That much should be fine, shouldn’t it?”
With self-serving rationalization, Gail reached back into the Illegal Adoption business.
But before long, he found himself caught by Camille once more.
This time, at the Banquet Hall for Camille’s birthday.
“……You touched it again.”
“I-I’m sorry! I really thought this would be the last time! I swear I won’t do it again!”
“…….”
“……C-Camille?”
The moment their eyes met, Gail froze solid.
That gaze—contempt mingled with the look of observing something less than human—was colder and more alien than any stare he had ever known.
“I’ll be taking this matter to trial.”
“W-what?”
“The charity supplies, and everything else as well. I won’t be entrusting the Pistachio Merchant Group with anything further.”
“W-wait. Camille, Camille!”
“You’ve already lost my trust. As a friend, and as a partner.”
“A-aah……!!”
Staring after Camille’s pink hair receding without hesitation, Gail saw a vision of everything crashing down around him.
‘I-I can’t let him go like this! Absolutely not!’
Gail’s eyes darted frantically around.
His gaze caught upon a large Ceramic Vase made of porcelain.
“……!”
His sanity-stripped hand seized it with a violent grip. And then…….
Crash—!
“……Ugh.”
That was the last image of Camille that Gail remembered.
* * *
“Gail, Gail!”
“Huh, y-yes?”
Gail, lost in thought as he recalled the not-so-distant past, lifted his head a beat too late.
Beneath the blazing sun, the sound of cicadas echoed like an auditory hallucination.
“……Ah, sorry. What were you saying?”
Having rested against the Safe for the past few hours, this shadowless place was the perfect environment to lose one’s mind.
“He said he’d take a look around. To see if there might be any hints about the password.”
“Hints?”
“Yes. You said you didn’t know either, didn’t you? But we can’t just sit idle and do nothing.”
“Right.”
The situation came back to him. To escape this place, Camille had been trying to find the Safe’s password.
“Hmm…….”
Gail pretended to be thinking while stealing a glance at Camille’s face.
‘But why isn’t this bastard sweating at all? Why is it always just me…….’
He felt jealous over trivial things. But he didn’t let it show on the surface.
Meanwhile, Camille stood before him with a vacant expression, waiting for nothing but Gail’s answer.
“Go ahead. I’ll keep watch over the Safe.”
“Good. It might take a while—is that all right?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just go.”
With that, Camille left the room. Gail, now alone, collapsed in front of the Safe and caught his breath for a moment.
‘Still, does he really not remember what happened in the Banquet Hall?’
He remained suspicious, but judging from his reactions so far, it was clear he knew nothing.
It was absurd enough that a dead man had come back to life, but now that they’d had a direct conversation, there was no denying it anymore.
‘First, I need to get out of this painting. Then I’ll think about what comes next.’
Quite a bit of time passed. But when Camille didn’t return no matter how long he waited, Gail’s attention naturally drifted elsewhere.
To the dark blue Safe leaning against his back.
“……The password.”
He hadn’t noticed it from outside the painting, but looking closely, it was the same model he’d kept in his Office long ago.
Gail pushed aside an odd feeling of unease and turned the dial.
Click—
“……!”
The Safe’s seams creaked open.
Gail stood frozen, unable to hide his shock, then carefully reached for the handle. Just then.
“Gail, I’ve looked everywhere but I can’t find any hints about the password.”
“…….”
“Nothing happened while I was gone, right?”
Camille’s voice came from behind him.
Gail pushed the Safe door shut and kept his mouth closed.
‘What was inside? I didn’t even get to check!’
Now that he’d witnessed the Safe opening with his own password, everything had changed.
‘If the contents are discovered, it’s all over!’
Gail’s Safe held countless documents he could never bring himself to speak of.
After Camille’s death, he’d reached into the deeper, darker shadows.
‘I can never let Camille see it!’
If he were caught having engaged in illicit activities again, Gail had no idea what Camille might do this time.
“Did you open the Safe?”
“No! How could I?”
“A shame. I was hoping, just in case.”
Gail desperately composed his expression and forced the corners of his mouth upward.
That was when it happened.
“By the way, something occurred to me while I was looking around.”
Camille casually plopped down beside him and continued.
“Have you ever heard the legend about sunflowers?”
“……What?”
The ground shimmered with heat, as if the height of summer had arrived.
“The thing about sunflowers is, when they grow too large, they eventually can’t bear their own weight and the stem snaps, killing the flower. All because the bloom became too swollen.”
“…….”
Gail said nothing in response, so it seemed almost like watching Camille’s soliloquy.
“The Flower Language speaks of love and devotion, though it also means yearning…… Isn’t that rather ironic?”
“Ironic? Ironic how?”
“Following the object of your longing, only to meet death in the end.”
Gail, who had been avoiding Camille’s eyes, involuntarily looked at him at those final words.
The moment he met that lifeless gaze—those eyes with no light in them—Gail understood instinctively.
‘……This bastard knew all along.’
Since everything had been exposed, only one choice remained.
And the first time is always hard; the second time comes easy.
“You bastard!”
Crash!
Gail lunged forward like a wild animal, crushing that pristine throat with his crude palms.
“Gack—!”
Even as fingernails raked across his arms, Gail pressed harder, cutting off the air.
“Die. Die!”
Beneath his hands, he felt the desperate, suffocating gasps. A sick elation washed over him.
“Huh, huh… haha!”
The convulsions eased, and Camille’s body went limp, collapsing among the yellow blooms.
“You looked down on me. Every single time. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Hatred poured down onto the unresponsive corpse.
“A hypocrite like you deserves to die. Deserves it! Because you, you were better than me, and—!!”
He stopped abruptly, struck by the realization that no one was listening.
“Hah…”
Standing blank-faced before the doubly dead body, Gail forced his ragged breathing under control.
It was then that a chill crept down his spine.
“Mm. So that’s what happened.”
Like a corroded wind-up doll, Gail’s head turned with mechanical precision.
‘…What?’
Camille was standing there. Wearing an utterly composed expression.
“So you killed me?”
“…You… why are you…”
This was wrong.
He had envied him, yes—but he had never been afraid. Not once.
‘Just now, with these hands, I…’
Gail looked back. The body he’d just killed had vanished.
“…!”
Gail’s ashen face fixed itself upon the revived Camille.
“Seems I have a real talent for this sort of thing.”
“…What?”
“Right now, I’m having far too much fun.”
Camille’s cheeks flushed as if in anticipation of something. Then he plunged his hand into the dense flower growth and pulled something out.
It was an enormous shovel.
“My wife used to own this. I found it hidden among the flowers here. Goodness knows when she prepared it… how endearing, keeping secrets like that.”
“…Wait, wait just a moment, Camille.”
“Well then, shall we switch roles?”
Camille grinned widely, raising the shovel high.
“Tag Game, let’s begin!”

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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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