My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 26

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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 the Painting 026
In truth, Claude seemed to have his mind fixed elsewhere.
“Who is that child? Is his name Johen?”
Since I’d been wanting to steer the conversation in a different direction anyway, I moistened my lips with black tea before answering directly.
“Johen is a child who lives at the Agnus Orphanage.”
“The Agnus Orphanage?”
I hesitated briefly, weighing how much to reveal to him, then spoke with measured care.
“Johen’s older sister, a girl named Anmari, has gone missing. I needed clues to find her, so I was in the middle of questioning Johen about his sister’s distinguishing features.”
Then, as if he’d been waiting for just this opening, Claude’s sharp question cut through the air.
“Why are you doing this, when you could simply hand the matter over to the Imperial Investigation Unit?”
“…….”
His golden eyes, taking in everything at a glance, gleamed with suspicion. One misstep in my answer and I’d find myself bound and dragged away without ceremony.
Fortunately for me, I was skilled at thinking on my feet.
“Didn’t you see the news in this morning’s papers? The Imperial Investigation Unit is likely overwhelmed dealing with that case.”
“Surely, not every hand in their ranks is tied to that single matter.”
“True enough. But at the outset, the Empire would never intervene to find a single parentless child, would it?”
“…….”
I glanced at him as one might regard a child innocent of the world’s ways, and Claude’s lips pressed into a thin line.
It was only natural that he’d be dull to such matters—a man confined to the Western Territory his entire life. Yet the quiet that descended seemed born of more than mere ignorance.
“……The other missing person you mentioned—that man, Gail Pistachio. There were allegations of Supply Embezzlement against him, weren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know him well?”
The question was not casual.
I flashed my eyes quickly, trying to read what lay beneath Claude’s words, but came away uncertain. So all I could do was probe cautiously.
“What do you mean by ‘know him well’? That man was your brother’s closest friend.”
“By my standards, two people who exchange letters are well acquainted.”
“……Letters.”
I understood at once. He was asking because he knew something.
‘So he’s found out that I sent the painting.’
The only connection between Gail Pistachio and me was that.
I was the one who’d leaked his embezzlement to the press, but there was no way Claude could know that.
‘I’ll take the initiative, then.’
A clever lie, woven through with threads of truth, was far more effective than stammering excuses heard secondhand.
The thought flickered through my mind like something I’d once read in a book on rhetoric.
“Well, if we’re measuring it that way, then yes, we could say I know him reasonably well. The Agnus Orphanage received long-term charitable supplies from him, and I was grateful enough to send him a gift not long ago.”
“…….”
“But in hindsight, it seems foolish. I had no idea he’d been embezzling charitable goods.”
“Did you send the gift in Ortega’s name?”
“No. You may or may not know this, but I myself came from a merchant house. So I sent it anonymously, to avoid complications.”
After parrying that blow neatly, it became my turn. I set down my empty teacup deliberately, letting it clink against the saucer, then asked softly.
“But why ask such a thing? Are you particularly close with that missing Minor Baron?”
“How could I be?”
“Then it’s rather rude, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have thought we were the sort of people to pry into each other’s private affairs.”
“…….”
I’d said enough. He would understand. So I thought, smoothing the handle of my teacup between my fingers, when he spoke again.
“Would you… let me join in on that plan?”
“……I’m sorry?”
“The investigation into the missing persons case.”
No.
Shouldn’t I at least expect a response I can actually anticipate before deciding whether to give an honest answer or not?
To a question I could never have dreamed of, I stumbled.
“Um, well.”
So the truth spilled out unguarded—and it was entirely his fault for throwing me off like that.
“Why would you…?”
“…….”
“Ah.”
Right.
No matter how I thought about it, this wasn’t my fault at all.
* * *
By now, spring had arrived in full bloom.
In the Empire, the arrival of spring was signaled by two unmistakable signs.
One was the lightening of people’s clothing; the other was the Spring Commencement Banquet held under Imperial patronage.
For the people here, spring—arriving after the long winter—meant a new beginning, and so attending the banquet in colorful garments that celebrated the season had become an enormous annual tradition.
“My, you’ve had a new evening gown made?”
“I have. It’s dyed madder red—our house color, you see.”
“What do you think of my gown? It was designed at La Fleur Salon.”
“Isn’t the madame there from La Rose Blanche? She’s been handling Belladonna’s dresses for ten years now, hasn’t she?”
People gathered in small clusters chatting fell silent the moment a carriage adorned with gold curtains arrived, as though they’d been waiting for exactly this moment.
“Look there—it’s Ortega’s carriage!”
“Oh…….”
A strange, heavy silence fell over the crowd.
The first official gathering since the funeral.
Even those who ordinarily despised banquets had gathered here, and it was fair to say they’d come for one reason alone: to witness this moment.
An appearance that hadn’t faded despite crossing into her fifth decade; abilities refined enough to have held the office of Prime Minister; the iron will of a woman who guarded a ducal house alone.
Belladonna was a woman who had never once descended from the pinnacle of admiration.
And now she had lost her eldest son, whom she had cherished dearly.
She had collapsed so devastatingly at the funeral that there hung in the air an expectation—or perhaps mere curiosity—that she might now be utterly broken.
But the moment Belladonna stepped down from the carriage, that entire atmosphere was swept away in an instant.
“Good heavens…….”
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful deep green gown. I don’t recall ever seeing fabric like that at the salon…….”
With her spine held rigidly straight, Belladonna moved through the crowd with cool composure, her expression as cold and distant as always.
The grief from the funeral had vanished without trace; she had returned complete and perfect.
Naturally, all eyes shifted to the two figures who followed in her wake.
“Orbe of Ortega insisted on black, it seems. And that one beside him—is that the second son they summoned from the Western Territory? Have you seen him before?”
“No, this is my first time seeing him too. But as expected, he bears no resemblance whatsoever to Belladonna.”
Interest in Ortega was not confined to young ladies and the wives of nobles.
Those who secretly hoped for a decline in Ortega’s standing exhaled softly and shook their heads.
“……Indeed, she is worthy of her renown. Today too, it will surely be quite a spectacle watching them scramble to catch even the shadow of the lady.”
“I say, isn’t that rather rude to someone who has lost a child?”
“This is why noblewomen are as they are. One child ought to suffice—why carry on so pitifully?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Following Belladonna as she moved ahead toward the banquet hall, I felt my brow furrow at the sharp stares piercing from every direction.
‘They’re all the same as ever, it seems.’
The whispers brushed against my skin, and though it should have been uncomfortable, it seemed only I among the three of us was aware of this blatant atmosphere.
…….
Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly registering the atmosphere myself. There was something else far more troublesome on my mind.
“Are there really this many nobles in the Empire? It’s deafening.”
Claude, dressed in a deep green uniform to match Belladonna’s, moved with palpable irritation.
From the dark look in his eyes alone, I could easily discern just how foul his mood had become.
“……Claude, are you angry?”
When I finally hesitated and spoke first, the answer came back as if he’d been waiting.
“No.”
“You are angry. You haven’t looked me in the eye since earlier.”
“I am not angry.”
The quickening of his pace made it clear that was a lie.

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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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