My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 35

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

My Husband Lives in a Painting — Episode 35
Chapter 6. A Tomb Heard Through the Ear
Pagoda was thinking.
‘Ah, could this possibly be love?’
To squander time in such impatience waiting for someone’s message—something he had never experienced in his entire life.
‘Why isn’t there a reply? I’ve sent letters so many times already!’
Ortega was clumsy. Extraordinarily clumsy.
Despite his fervent courtship, not a single response—there had to be limits to how much torment one could inflict! Even forcing himself to exercise magnanimity and understanding, his pride had begun to fray.
He received a response to his love letter precisely two weeks later.
“Master, there is a gift of unknown origin left before the Mansion. It is addressed to you, so I have brought it, but…”
“An unknown gift? Why hasn’t it been removed at once—wait, bring it here.”
“M-master?”
What the servant carefully carried was a large Canvas large enough to conceal a man’s torso. Atop the Painting wrapped meticulously in beige paper lay a neatly folded Letter.
— To the Marquis Boutier.
I apologize once more for my discourtesy last time.
I treasure all the Letters you sent me.
I hope this Painting will convey my heart to you.
“…Everyone, leave at once.”
The moment Boutier read those words—”convey my heart”—he felt a surge of instinctive elation and dismissed the servants.
Alone in the room, he carefully unwrapped the Painting and let out a small gasp of astonishment.
‘This… this is…!’
Title: The Back of an Unconsoled Widow
On the Canvas lay the figure of a woman seen from behind.
She sat perched on the edge of a Bed in a thin Slip, as though on the verge of sleep.
Her wet hair, freshly washed, was gathered and swept over one shoulder, leaving the graceful curve of the opposite shoulder entirely bare—an air of subtle sensuality emanating from the pose.
Even the moonlight pouring through the window seemed vivid in the Painting, and that silhouette felt oddly familiar.
Ortega. It was unmistakably her back.
‘To paint such an intimate moment of herself and send it to me…’
This was, indeed.
Unmistakable.
‘So she does favor me after all!’
A broad grin split his face. Pagoda’s lips stretched to his ears in a way that would have looked unsettling.
‘What an audacious woman she is, after all.’
Drawing such proper, indifferent lines, and then sending such an overt signal in the end.
He opened a drawer and counted the unused Recording Pearls. One, two, three… enough.
‘What sort of voice will the lady offer me, I wonder?’
“Ah, just imagining it drives me to madness.”
The temperature in the room seemed to spike suddenly. Pagoda unfastened the front of his shirt.
Though the windows were certainly closed, hot beads of sweat seemed to roll down his cheeks.
Just as he sank deeper into blissful reverie, an unwelcome voice came from beyond the door.
“Master, I have brought your meal.”
‘Just when things were so good…’
The voice that shattered his sweet dream twisted Pagoda’s mouth into an ugly shape. He yanked open the door and glared at the maid outside with the ferocity of a predator.
“See that no one lingers near me today.”
“Yes? Though, master—”
“Do you dare contradict my orders?”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
“And you.”
“Yes! Your command, sir!”
Pagoda turned his menace upon the knight guarding the door.
“Whatever sounds you hear from within this room, you are not to look inside under any circumstances.”
“…Yes? Ah, understood.”
The moment the door shut, Pagoda rushed back before the Painting.
He wiped the sweat from his cheek with the back of his hand and raked his eyes covetously over Ortega’s silhouette in the Canvas from head to toe.
Her face was not visible, but he let his imagination run wild beyond it.
…What expression would she wear upon the Bed?
“Hah-hah, hah-hah-hah…”
Pagoda swallowed dryly, his eyes gleaming. His trembling fingers fumbled at his belt with mounting urgency.
But the moment he gripped the front of his trousers with one hand and brought the other toward the Painting, his hand sank into the Canvas without resistance.
“…W-what—?”
At that same moment, a sharp, cold voice pierced through his mind like a blade.
“Caught you, you sick bastard.”
“Ugh—ahhhhh—!”
And then Pagoda was swallowed whole into the darkness.
* * *
“Nngh, my head…….”
Just as sensation was draining from the cheek pressed flush against the cold floor, Pagoda forced his eyes open.
“Why am I sleeping down here?”
To sprawl on the ground when a perfectly good Bed awaited him—in his twenty years of life, such a thing had never happened once.
‘What were all those useless servants doing, letting their master end up like this?’
In that moment, as he resolved to punish the negligent staff for this unprecedented humiliation, something struck him as odd. He rubbed his eyes and lifted his head.
‘The moon’s risen.’
Moonlight streamed through the window, flooding the dark room with a pale glow.
But as Pagoda’s gaze traced slowly along the beam of light pouring down in a straight line, an unfamiliar silhouette caught his eye.
It was the outline of someone sitting at the foot of the Bed.
‘Who is that?’
Pagoda rubbed away the blur from his vision and narrowed his eyes, studying the figure’s identity.
And soon enough, he could tell. The back of that figure—somehow, it was familiar.
“O-Ortega?”
Pagoda’s eyes flew wide open, his voice trembling with disbelief, and the woman sitting on the Bed slowly turned her head toward him.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I thought I would wait.”
“……Is it really you?”
Dry swallowed down his throat with difficulty.
As Ortega turned her body slowly toward him, beneath her long lashes, crimson eyes of startling clarity fixed upon him.
Those transparent ruby-like eyes pierced through his entire being, and a sharp thrill raced across his skin.
“It was you who invited me here, after all.”
“……!”
“It would be rather disappointing if you pretended not to remember now.”
She flicked a finger toward Pagoda, a seductive smile following in its wake.
Wiping away the saliva that had gathered at the corner of his mouth, Pagoda hurried to his feet and rushed toward her as though terrified she might flee, seizing both her delicate shoulders.
“Ah, madam! That you would summon such courage…… You share my feelings after all, don’t you? Tell me you do!”
“…….”
“I’ve already prepared a Phonograph for you. I’ve procured Recording Pearls in the most generous quantities!”
Pagoda, about to make for the dresser, abandoned the detour as though even that brief moment were intolerable.
Instead, he pushed Ortega directly down onto the Bed.
“Ah, no—that’s right. Let’s simply enjoy tonight as it comes first! Surely you feel the same, madam?”
Though he laid bare his desires without restraint, the woman merely nodded meekly.
Her slender shoulders, her obedient manner, even her cheeks flushed with shy warmth—it was all exactly as he had longed for.
‘Ah, that a dream like this could become reality!’
Pagoda, overcome by surging emotion, pulled Ortega tightly into his embrace.
The small body nestled perfectly against him filled him with aching tenderness.
“Ah…… this will truly be a beautiful night.”
The conquest of finally possessing the woman who had been hardest to obtain.
‘The one woman even her dead husband could never touch—I’m the one who has her!’
Lost in rapture, Pagoda remained blind to the truth.
“…….”
In his arms, Ortega’s eyes glimmered with a cold, pale light, her thin smile stained with something bitter.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————