My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 27

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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 027
Before he could distance himself further, I rushed to continue.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant—I don’t distrust you.”
…….
“But try to see it from my position. Wouldn’t you be startled if a stranger suddenly said something like that to you? You don’t even know what my plans are.”
At my words, Claude suddenly stopped walking.
Looking up at him in some alarm, I watched as he fell silent for a moment, then abruptly furrowed his brow.
“Did you not once say we were family?”
“What?”
“Sister-in-law, your words certainly are polished, aren’t they.”
“…… No, wait.”
“Enough. I dislike it too.”
And with that, Claude vanished without even turning back.
Only then did I let out a bitter laugh.
‘So now he suddenly hates being called that?’
What was I supposed to do with this obstinate creature? I had half a mind to box his ears.
At that moment, Belladonna, who had been watching Claude as he walked ahead, turned to me.
“The two of you seem quite close.”
“Pardon?”
And she continued.
“I don’t care what you do behind closed doors, but mind your conduct in public. If the House Ortega’s name ends up dragged through the streets because of freeloaders like you two, that would be rather costly for me.”
…….
It was the first conversation we’d had since the funeral.
But Belladonna ended there and vanished into the banquet hall without a backward glance.
Having been struck from behind twice by the Ortega pair, I stood there blank-faced, merely watching their receding figures.
“…… Madness. Pure madness.”
Suddenly, I could sense it.
This banquet would not end easily.
* * *
The Imperial Banquet Hall, which I visited again for the first time since autumn, had grown even more resplendent.
Since Emperor Polybius had been suffering from an incurable illness for years, the Crown Prince delivered the opening remarks at this year’s Spring Festival Banquet in his stead.
“Do enjoy yourselves at your leisure.”
The Crown Prince, of a weak temperament, did not enjoy such occasions, so he delivered his remarks and withdrew.
Naturally, when the tiger is absent, the fox becomes king.
“Belladonna, how delightful to see you. Do you recall who I am?”
“You came to the funeral. I remember, Count Leonhart.”
“Oh, Belladonna! And you—do you perhaps remember me too? I sent you a letter beforehand to—”
I held a wine glass in hand, leaning against a column, observing the crowd that had gathered around Belladonna.
There was a time I’d worried about becoming like them myself, but few people had ever approached me much.
‘Now that I’m a widow, there will be even fewer.’
That suited me fine. But then……
What was with this man standing beside me like this, staring blankly?
“…… Claude, why do you keep standing next to me?”
At a distance of perhaps two paces, he sipped his wine with utter indifference.
Only moments ago he’d been sulking openly, so I looked at him in disbelief.
“Don’t concern yourself. This banquet hall isn’t your property, after all.”
True enough. But look at all those young ladies lined up at your side.
“Still, shouldn’t you try conversing with the young ladies? That way, you’ll have standards set if a marriage proposal ever comes your way later.”
“There will be no such occasion, so cease your worries.”
“But if you’re to become Head of House—”
“There will be no such occasion. I said so.”
With no eldest son, it was all but certain that Claude, the second son, would inherit House Ortega.
So what did he mean there would be no such occasion? I was just beginning to puzzle over this when he spoke again.
“Besides, when that time comes, Mother will sooner have us marry each other. She’s not the sort to tolerate excess baggage cluttering up the household.”
…….
“…… Damn it. Please forget what I just said.”
If Belladonna actually went through with something like that, it would infuriate me. The look on his face suggested he felt the same.
Claude downed the drink he’d been holding in one gulp, then signaled a passing servant to exchange his glass.
In the brief silence as his glass was refilled, he stood with his arms crossed, lost in thought, when he suddenly knitted his brows.
“But why have those people been staring this way since earlier?”
Following the tilt of her chin, my gaze shifted to a cluster of young noble women gathered in one corner of the banquet hall, whispering in my direction.
The woman at the center of the group, her mouth half-hidden behind a fan, fixed me with a glare that suggested she might rush at me any moment.
“They’re all women who once proposed marriage to Kamiyou,” Belladonna said quietly. “The one in the middle is Freeta, the second daughter of House Dinapoli.”
I continued speaking without much concern.
“They all adored Kamiyou once, so it seems they want to blame me for losing a husband after only a year. They certainly despised me when I married him.”
“To hear them tell it, I’m worse than a sworn enemy.”
“…Well, that’s not entirely wrong, is it?”
Since Kamiyou’s death, I’d never stopped worrying that someone might turn their resentment toward me.
After all, there was an old saying about how bringing an unlucky person into a household could ruin the entire family.
‘As I suspected, Freeta blames me.’
My expectations had proven accurate, and I felt numb—though at the same time, something bitter rose in my throat. That was when Claude, standing beside me, let slip a comment almost to himself.
“Your life is truly unfortunate, isn’t it?”
What followed were words of consolation.
“Don’t trouble yourself over what strangers say. There’s no point in reacting to every little jab—it won’t help you live any better.”
“…Is that from experience?”
“Something like it.”
I looked up at Claude’s profile. Wisdom like that seemed beyond an eighteen-year-old boy.
“You’re right. They don’t understand.”
I turned my head again and met the eyes of Freeta Dinapoli, whose gaze burned with lethal intent.
I remembered weeping bitterly when I saw those eyes—which had once held nothing but genuine affection for me—now rippling with jealousy and revulsion.
But now things were different.
“…Because this time, I’ve also wagered my life on it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
…..
I felt Claude’s bewildered gaze, but I offered no answer.
Before the silence could stretch further, I changed the subject.
“Drink in moderation, won’t you? You’re still young.”
…..
Claude studied my expression for a moment, seeming to grasp that I would say nothing more. He complied gracefully with the shift.
“In the Western Region, drinking has been permitted from age sixteen.”
“The Western Region isn’t part of the Empire, then?”
“The farther one travels from the Capital, the weaker the laws tend to be.”
Claude answered as smoothly as flowing water, then deliberately drained his wine glass in one gulp.
The alcohol was beginning to warm my blood, and my mood had soured enough that I thought, ‘Why not?’ and knocked back what remained in my own glass.
Then, in a manner unbefitting a Duchess, I wiped the wine that had dribbled down my chin away with my sleeve, roughly and without grace.
“Ahh…”
Belladonna would have had something to say about such behavior, but Claude seemed to approve.
His eyes sparkled with genuine amusement for the first time.
“You hold your liquor quite well. It seems you enjoy wine more than I’d have guessed.”
“Yes. Where I come from, drinking was permitted from age twelve.”
“Ha!”
There was something oddly gratifying about that reaction, and before I knew it, I was smiling.
We stood side by side at an appropriate distance, watching the banquet hall unfold beneath the glow of pleasant music, neither of us speaking.
We hadn’t exchanged particular conversation, yet I found myself realizing anew how strangely comforting this silence with Claude had become.
Then, in an instant, familiar pink hair entered my field of vision.
‘…What?’
This world’s hair colors were naturally diverse.
From ruby-red tones to crisp blues and blacks like Claude’s.
Yet that pale cherry-blossom pink—the shade of crushed petals steeped in water—had only ever belonged to my husband.
And in that moment, our eyes met.
“…!”
The black hem of cloth that disappeared behind a pillar seemed like a beckoning gesture, urging me to follow.
As though entranced, I moved after the retreating figure.
“…By the way, when exactly does this tedious banquet end?”
“Yes? I, I’m not sure…”
Claude, raising a freshly filled wine glass, furrowed his brow at the unexpected answer from a noble girl he’d been addressing.
“I wasn’t asking you. …Or, why is there no answer from—”
But the words died before they could be completed.
…..
“Ah, you went that way earlier, didn’t you? But seriously, Claude, seeing you in person, you’re really quite handsome!”
The woman who had been at his side just moments before had vanished without a trace.
As the young ladies who had been waiting for their chance began to creep closer, Claude’s expression darkened precipitously.
‘Damn this House Ortega.’
Surrounded by the daughters gathering around him in ever-increasing numbers, he steeled his resolve once more.
Someday, no matter what, he would leave this place behind.

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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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