My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 49

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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 · Episode 49
“Madam. An invitation has arrived from the Imperial Court.”
“From the Imperial Court?”
“Yes. And here are the newspapers you requested.”
I received the letters and stack of newspapers from Romain.
I was about to open the invitation first, but the moment Claude saw the front page, his brow darkened.
In the silence that followed, I heard someone draw a sharp breath.
“This is…….”
The front page carried the news I had been waiting for so long.
It was an article announcing the disappearance of Baron Boutere.
* * *

Baron Boutere had vanished. The culprit unknown, presumed to have fled.
But less than half a day passed before news arrived.
The missing baron had been discovered as a cold corpse, and beside him lay a suicide note—such was the conclusion.
‘So they decided to cover it up after all.’
The investigators who had torn through the mansion would surely have discovered his vile perversions.
And the Imperial Court chose to excise him rather than risk the emperor’s authority being compromised.
With that, I learned another truth: Boutere was indeed the emperor’s hidden child.
‘Unexpected. I’d thought that fragile Crown Prince might harbor ambitions to reclaim Pagoda for himself.’
The Crown Prince—Helios. So he too was of the emperor’s blood?
“Still…… to think I would come here.”
As I stepped into the Imperial Palace, a quiet sigh escaped me.
‘I won’t make it to the studio today. Camille must be waiting.’
Yet there was no excuse to refuse a summons from the Crown Prince.
‘To call so urgently. What could this be about?’
But I felt no concern that my involvement had been discovered. There was no evidence.
And indeed, it seemed Crown Prince Helios had not summoned me because of Boutere.
“Lady Ortega!”
“I am honored to receive an audience with the Empire’s brightest light.”
As I stepped through the Reception Room doors, the Crown Prince greeted me with a bright countenance.
“I apologize for the delayed courtesy—there has been much to attend to. The matter concerning the Duke is deeply regrettable.”
The Crown Prince, seen up close, had features faint in color, and despite his great height, possessed a gaunt bearing.
Yet as one born of noble blood, he maintained his dignified air.
“House Ortega and the Imperial Court have been each other’s pillars for centuries. I regret not attending the funeral, so I invited you here separately.”
“I am grateful for your thoughtfulness, Your Highness.”
“Not at all. I regret only that I could not arrange this sooner.”
In that meticulous courtesy toward one widow, I felt anew the weight and prestige of House Ortega.
“Belladonna has been greatly concerned about you as well. She said it was most lamentable that one so young should become a widow.”
“By Belladonna, you mean……?”
“Ah, I refer to Belladonna.”
The Crown Prince added the explanation with a faint smile.
“It may sound strange, but when she served as Prime Minister, she cared for me as if I were her own son. Having lost my mother at birth, she was to me like a mother.”
“……I had no idea there was such a history.”
“It is kept confidential publicly, so naturally you would not know. Today my guard seems to have lowered, and I’ve said more than I intended.”
“No, not at all.”
Setting aside the absurdity of Belladonna—who had tried to cast me out the moment of Boutere’s disappearance—claiming concern for me, I could not suppress my surprise.
‘So she is called Belladonna now.’
A woman born as the younger daughter of an unremarkable baronial house, who rose to the position of Prime Minister at merely eighteen years of age.
Though her appointment had sparked countless controversies at the time, she proved herself through the emperor’s absolute trust and her own overwhelming competence.
‘And she even served as a mother figure to the Crown Prince, who had lost his own mother?’
Perhaps her marriage into House Ortega had been a choice of her own making. Unlike me, she certainly possessed the ability to do so.
‘But now…….’
What was she doing now, having lost her only son?
* * *

My tea with the Crown Prince ended without delay.
Though he mentioned needing to attend a nobles’ council, he did not forget to escort me to the exit.
“Seeing your face today puts my mind at ease. It seems you have recovered well.”
“I am deeply grateful for Your Highness’s kindness. I pray for the Emperor’s swift recovery as well.”
“Much obliged.”
But I had to stop walking not long after.
“Ob. What are you doing here?”
Father.
So he’d obtained a baronial title and was now attending the noble council.
“The little sun of the empire. How honored.”
“Baron Claude, welcome.”
The Crown Prince gave a perfunctory wave, his gaze settling on me with the barest flicker of interest.
“Then, why don’t you and your daughter have a quiet word together?”
“Your Highness, I—”
“It’s quite all right. I have other conversations to attend to.”
The Crown Prince left Father and me where we stood, turning instead toward the cluster of other nobles.
I reached out too late to follow him, and Father caught my eye, gesturing me toward the corner.
‘Damn it.’
Against my better judgment, I approached, and Father leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear.
“I was meaning to seek you out anyway. Fortunate timing—I have something to tell you.”
“What is it now?”
“I’ve arranged new marriage prospects for you. Two of them, in fact—men of considerable age, but they hold respectable estates.”
“Ah…”
I thought surely he’d grasped the situation by now. When it became clear he hadn’t, I made no effort to hide my disdain, my face twisting with contempt.
“You saw what happened at the last ceremony. Right now, holding this position is the best strategy—”
“Foolish girl! A duchess’s title means nothing but empty prestige. Long-term, acquiring a new house would be far more advantageous. How can you not see that?”
“…Really, there’s no talking to you.”
“What did you say?”
I tilted my head back, my gaze sweeping toward the ceiling, and released a long, heavy sigh.
Sensing something amiss in my reaction, Father’s hand shot out, gripping my shoulder.
“Ob, you’re still my daughter. Just because you’ve left the house doesn’t mean your blood has changed, does it?”
“….”
“Listen to me while I’m being reasonable.”
If his goal was to drag my calm straight down into the dirt in a single breath, he’d succeeded perfectly.
Father seemed to believe that merely clamping his hand on my shoulder was enough to trigger some button inside me, forcing out an obedient “Yes, I understand.”
But even I was surprised. To feel absolutely nothing at all.
“…Why does everyone treat me this way when they see me?”
A bitter murmur escaped my lips as I stared coldly at his meaty hand.
Then, without ceremony, I brushed it away.
“I refuse.”
“…What?”
“I refuse.”
His confused hand wavered awkwardly in the empty air. I straightened my shoulder and smoothed down my disheveled clothing.
“Under imperial law, a married woman is recognized as belonging to her husband’s house. The fact that my name changed from Claude to Ortega speaks for itself.”
Then I fixed him with a cold, unwavering stare.
“Yet you still call me a Claude. It seems you stand above the very laws of this empire, Baron.”
“O-Ob! What sacrilege—!”
“There are many ears listening. Lower your voice.”
“Tch…”
Just ahead, a cluster of nobles stood in close attendance to the Crown Prince.
Taking advantage of Father’s silence, I continued.
“The marriage prospects you’ve received can be considered when I’m thoroughly cast off by House Ortega—if such a day ever comes. Any house willing to entertain proposals for a widow will hardly mind a delay of a few years.”
Needless to say, every prospect brought to him would be of dubious quality.
Yet there he was, desperate to pocket whatever pittance he could squeeze out of them.
‘I’d sooner surrender my soul to Camille than endure that sight.’

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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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