My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 47

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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 047
“……How could you hear a voice from inside a painting?”
Barely.
I managed only the faintest sound past my lips.
“Oh dear. Did I tell too fanciful a story?”
At my composed demeanor, Basaria relaxed his brow and smiled. Yet his gaze remained cold as ever.
“I heard it from Louis outside. He mentioned you were occupied in the studio and would need time to return.”
“Ah…….”
So that was how he knew about my painting. That explained it.
I barely managed to hold my composure together before it could crumble entirely.
‘Right. I can’t hide the fact that I paint.’
What mattered was where and how I was using those paintings. But no one knew that. Not Hope, not Claude, not even Remain.
‘As long as that doesn’t come to light, I’ll be fine.’
I steadied my breathing in silence, then spoke as calmly as I could manage.
“……I’m not entirely sure what you mean, but I haven’t been painting for even a year. The studio is little more than a keepsake my late husband left behind.”
“I see.”
“So what I’m saying is, I haven’t actually painted anything worthy of being called a painting.”
Fortunately, for a hastily improvised answer, it was convincing enough.
“Does that suffice as an explanation?”
I composed my expression and lifted my gaze. Thankfully, Basaria seemed to have no intention of pressing further, and he nodded.
“That was sufficient.”
I swallowed hard and exhaled a quiet breath of relief where he couldn’t see.
As I took a sip of the now-cold black tea, a chill traced slowly down my throat.
“…….”
It might have been wiser to end the conversation there. But to dispel the unease lingering in my chest, I found myself asking him once more.
“But why do you ask such a thing?”
Basaria’s bright blue eyes widened and fixed upon me.
That innocent gaze, delivered from a face so strikingly like Camille’s, felt as though it were chiding me for the lies I was telling, and my shoulders drew inward.
But his answer shattered all my expectations.
“Actually, I’m currently hunting a demon.”
“……Wait. What did you just—”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it?”
Basaria smiled brightly and produced a brooch from his pocket, extending it toward me.
Upon the eagle insignia symbolizing Eterion was inscribed the title “Demon Hunter” with exquisite precision.
“I am a Heresy Inquisitor. I came here to track a demon hiding within The Empire.”
“……!”
My hand trembled at that moment, and I nearly dropped the teacup as I set it down.
The clatter drew Basaria’s eyes downward, but he let it pass without comment and continued with a quiet explanation.
“Ordinarily, demons whose true forms dwell in the Demon Realm cannot maintain their substance here in the Middle Realm. For manifestation, they inevitably require a host to inhabit.”
“…….”
“The most common form is possession of human flesh, though rarely they use objects as intermediaries.”
Then our eyes met again.
He stared through my gaze as if trying to read something within, but then his eyes crinkled softly as though nothing at all had happened.
“I came to investigate when I sensed a Demonic Aura nearby, but now that I’ve met you directly, I’m convinced it was merely my mistake.”
I bit my lip and turned my head away.
I couldn’t face him directly—but for a reason entirely different from before.
“Thank you for your cooperation. And if my questions were unpleasant, I apologize for that as well.”
“…….”
Having said his piece, he rose from his seat without hesitation.
My hands clenched into fists upon my lap; I couldn’t even think to see him to the door.
“But, madam.”
Basaria, who had been reaching for the doorknob, stopped short and turned back.
“You understand, I’m sure, that demons exist to beguile humankind. The belief that good demons can exist is merely a fantasy held by those already under their spell.”
The gentle warning struck like a hidden blade.
“So if you ever encounter a demon…….”
A heavy silence dominated the room.
As the pressure threatened to overwhelm my senses, his final words fell like a death sentence.
“Please, flee.”
* * *
Even after leaving the Mansion, Louis stopped and turned back several times.
The reception room beyond the curtain kept drawing her eye.
Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Louis quickened his pace to catch up with Basaria ahead of him.
“Excuse me, Father.”
“Yes, Brother?”
“Did something happen in there?”
Louis touched the back of his neck, as though the question itself felt foreign to him.
But he couldn’t bear not to ask. In the moment the door closed, he’d glimpsed Aube’s face through the gap—and it was hollow, as though her very soul had drained away.
‘How did he reduce her to this state? Is it because her face resembles her ex-husband’s so much?’
Basaria, who had been gazing intently at Louis’s open expression, let a faint smile slip across his lips.
“Now that I think of it, you mentioned the two of you were siblings.”
“Yes? Ah, yes. Well, that’s the arrangement, at any rate.”
“Have you never noticed anything odd about your wife?”
“…What?”
Basaria had smoothly seized the initiative in the conversation.
Perhaps it was his trustworthy, composed features; perhaps it was the dulcet quality of his voice that made one long to obey.
Louis found his caution numbing away as information began to spill from his lips.
“Well, she does seem rather different lately.”
“Be specific.”
“She was always extremely sensitive before, and especially afraid of men, you see. But that’s… no, I shouldn’t. It’s a family matter, and I’d rather not say more.”
Yet fortunately, he retained enough discretion to stop himself mid-sentence.
“Thank you for your concern, Father.”
“……”
Louis bowed deeply. In doing so, he failed to notice how the other man’s lips stiffened imperceptibly.
When their eyes met again, Basaria’s expression had softened into an affectionate smile, as though his earlier sternness had never existed.
“No, I was thoughtless. Even one who serves as God’s messenger should not pry carelessly into another’s private affairs.”
“Yes, of course…”
“But tell me—what if we looked at it from a different angle?”
“How do you mean?”
A strange silence settled over his smile.
Basaria turned his body fully to face Louis directly.
“If you must unburden yourself to someone, wouldn’t it be better to make confession to me, God’s messenger?”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
“I mean nothing untoward by it. I simply wish to give you strength, Louis.”
Louis hesitated, his fingers fidgeting restlessly.
When he looked up at Basaria’s flawless features, even he—a man—felt his face flush slightly at their beauty.
“That is… that’s…”
He had no intention whatsoever of gossiping about Aube. Not at all.
Not because he cherished her, but because Claudel the Marquis had made a habit of ordering him to hide her defects.
‘Yet if I think about it, this man might be more important to me now. He’s the one who can make me commander of the Order.’
Thus seized by a peculiar emotion, Louis’s mouth opened.
“It’s more like her fear of men has vanished, or… her eyes have lost all hesitation…”
“So her personality has changed, you’re saying.”
“Yes. But if anything, isn’t it a positive change? Which means her flaws have simply disappeared.”
As he spoke, his thoughts seemed to clarify, and Louis laughed with a lighter expression.
But Basaria, who had been listening quietly to every word, stroked his chin slowly as though troubled by something.
“Hmm, I see.”
Then he restored his expression to its former state.
“There’s nothing particularly strange in it. Humans are by nature mutable creatures. The Divine also cherishes this very changeability.”
“That much is certainly true.”
“And yet, one thing troubles me.”
Basaria’s hand descended upon one of Louis’s shoulders, pressing down firmly.
“Flaws, you said.”
“…Yes, yes?”
“It would be better if you kept your lips sealed, Brother.”
Louis stared at the hand resting on his shoulder and flinched. Though no great force was applied, the pressure was unmistakable.
“Well then, shall we return?”
Louis stood rooted to the spot like a stone milestone, unable even to follow Basaria as he withdrew toward the carriage.
‘…What was that?’
A belated question came crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.

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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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