My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 48

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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 48
“Pardon me, but aren’t you the lady’s younger brother?”
“Who?”
“That one over there, the gentleman with the yellow hair.”
Hope shielded his eyes with a raised hand, squinting as he tilted his head in confusion.
“Is he perhaps looking for the lady? She didn’t mention any appointment with him…”
After a moment, Hope turned toward Basaria and let out a soft exclamation.
“But who is that Priest? My goodness, he’s extraordinarily handsome.”
“A Priest?”
Claude followed Hope’s gaze toward Louie, then swiftly looked away.
There, a man with cherry-blossom-pink hair, draped in robes of pure white, moved with unhurried grace.
“That sort of face certainly appeals to the women. Though I suppose the Priests don’t concern themselves with such worldly matters.”
“You think that’s handsome?”
“Huh?”
Claude spoke carelessly, seized by an inexplicable fit of pique.
But Hope merely laughed in disbelief and replied at once.
“More handsome than the lord, at any rate. Why don’t you ask someone else? The lady, perhaps?”
“…….”
“Ow, ow! That hurts, it hurts!”
Claude yanked Hope’s ear sharply, then let go.
Hope’s eyes welled with tears as he twisted his lips in protest.
“There—that vile temper of yours! No wonder the women won’t have you!”
“Shut your mouth.”
“I’m telling the lady everything!”
“Go ahead. If you’d like a glimpse of hell.”
“……ugh.”
Leaving the whimpering Hope behind, Claude turned his gaze back to the Priest.
He could not tear his eyes from that smile—whatever it was that seemed to delight him so.
* * *
Morning broke again.
Stepping into the Garden after so long, I noticed that everyone’s clothes had grown noticeably lighter, and the fully arrived spring warmth even seemed to lift their spirits.
“My lady, won’t you be going to the Art Studio today?”
Yet it was only I who carried a somber air.
“Well, no… it’s just…”
“Surely you need a bit of fresh air now and then! Some sunshine and a change of mood will do you good!”
“…….”
Though I had spoken obliquely, she clearly worried for me. And yet, at the same time, she seemed genuinely pleased to see me taking a walk after so long.
She had always cared for my wellbeing, and for that reason, I felt a little ashamed.
‘Have I truly been confined to the Art Studio all this time?’
However much sunlight one receives within a painting, it is nothing but a phantom.
In truth, my skin had grown impossibly pale compared to this time last year.
‘At this point, I can hardly object if someone called me bewitched by a demon.’
“The belief that a kind demon might exist is merely a fantasy—one harbored only by those who have fallen under their spell.”
Basaria’s words had lodged themselves deep in my chest, circling through my mind ever since.
The fact that those words refused to leave suggested, perhaps, that I could not reconcile myself with them.
And it was precisely this that had kept me from visiting Camille today.
“……All because of a single remark.”
I gripped the Tea Cup tightly, fighting to steady myself.
‘And yet, Ob—didn’t you wish for this Revenge from the very beginning?’
At the very least, where Revenge was concerned, Camille had aided me in every conceivable way.
Without him, I would never have discovered that Densum was the true culprit behind my husband’s death.
‘That’s right. Camille is different.’
I resolved to trust what I had witnessed with my own eyes.
The moment I reached that conclusion, my heart grew lighter.
‘Tomorrow, I’ll return to the Art Studio. And Basaria… that man….’
“…….”
For now, it would be best to keep my distance.
For if I faced him again, all the resolve I had so carefully steeled would crumble to dust.
‘But what if I keep running into him?’
A tangle of idle worries clouded my vision, blurring everything before me.
The moment I shut my eyes against the pounding ache that threatened to split my skull, a thought flashed through my mind—and my eyes snapped open.
……Should I kill her?
Crash!
“Oh my, madam! Are you all right?”
“……Yes.”
“Just stay still, I’ll fetch something to clean this up!”
Romaine bustled out of the room in a flurry.
But I remained frozen, tea soaking through the fabric of my dress, unable to move.
‘What on earth was I thinking.’
Thump-thump.
My heart was racing.
* * *

As Romaine’s careful hands tended to me, my erratic heart gradually steadied itself.
“All done, madam!”
“Thank you.”
“You were quite frightened, weren’t you? I should have been more careful…….”
“No, it was my fault.”
“Still……”
When I gently stroked her hair as she wiped away a few tears, she broke into a childlike smile.
“Hehe. I love it best when you pat my head like that, madam.”
Instead of answering, I offered her a faint smile. My parched soul seemed to fill at last.
A knock at the door broke the silence just then.
“Come in.”
The visitor who arrived early in the afternoon was none other than Claude.
“You weren’t in the Art Studio.”
“Madam, I’ve come too!”
Claude settled into a chair with the ease of habit, turning his back on Hope, who broke into an eager grin upon spotting Romaine.
It had been a week since I’d last seen his face—after the Spring Flower Festival.
“A Priest came by yesterday. Did you see him?”
“…….”
Ah, I’d only just forgotten about it.
But the fact that Claude had encountered Basaria sparked a new curiosity in me.
I took my seat across from him and turned the question back on him.
“You met him too?”
“Only in passing. I just glimpsed his face.”
Claude rubbed the back of his neck and let his gaze slip away before continuing.
“His hair color was the same as your brother’s.”
“…….”
“Are you all right?”
At those words, my shoulders stiffened slightly.
“……There’s nothing wrong with it. He’s a different person, after all.”
Even as I spoke casually, I could feel something festering beneath the surface, ready to burst.
The discomfort I’d forced down came creeping back up through my limbs.
……But hair color?
“Is that all? You had no other impressions?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Seeing the Priest Basaria—is that truly the only feeling it stirred in you?”
Claude fixed me with a puzzled look. I met it with a similar expression.
“……Should there be more?”
Perhaps there should have been.
Instead of answering, I gave a small nod, and I watched his expression harden further for reasons I couldn’t quite place.
It was only in the next moment that I realized my words could be interpreted entirely differently.
“Do you have a preference for that sort of face too?”
“……Pardon?”
My thoughts ground to a halt, and all the strength drained from me at once.
“No, let me rephrase.”
This must be what it feels like when you have so much to say your mind simply stops working.
Meanwhile, Claude pressed forward with absolute seriousness.
“Am I so displeasing to you?”
“…….”
Hope, who had been bantering with Romaine, suddenly froze. He turned his head, and Romaine’s gaze flickered with raw skepticism.
Before the atmosphere could grow any stranger, I hastened to speak.
“……I think he’s handsome. Objectively speaking.”
“And subjectively?”
“Not bad.”
“How reassuring. That settles it, then.”
Claude smiled with unmistakable satisfaction, as though the surrounding stares meant nothing to him whatsoever.
In the moment a helpless laugh threatened to escape me, another question came.
“And his temperament?”
“His temperament is rather unpleasant. Why do you ask?”
“…….”
“……Pfft. Heh.”
Behind the bewildered Claude, laughter finally burst free.
Hope, catching Claude’s sharp gaze head-on, quickly clapped a hand over his own mouth and bowed his head.
“What is……?”
Unable to follow the sequence of events, I blinked in confusion.
Yet paradoxically, I understood something then: Claude had looked at Basaria and failed to recall Camille immediately.
‘Was I the only one who felt it?’
But Louie’s reaction had differed from mine too, hadn’t it?
‘It’s been eight years since Claude left for the Western Territory……yes, it’s possible he’s forgotten.’
After composing myself with that thought, I lifted my gaze to find Claude still shrouded in a heavy, stunned silence.
“Claude.”
Worried that my words had been too harsh, I reached out to him carefully.
But a knock at the door shattered the silence, and as an attendant entered, I had no choice but to hold my tongue.
Upon the silver tray he carried lay a single letter envelope of unmistakable weight.

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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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