My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 53

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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 53
“Ah! You’re asking about the Young Lord of the Calancoe Duchy.”
Hope, who had drifted to my side at some point, leaned forward and offered an explanation.
“The Calancoe Duchy’s roots run deep into the Temple itself, I’ve heard. The founding patriarch was a High Priest, and there are records of him receiving his title after performing great deeds in war.”
“What service could possibly have been great enough to earn a duchy?”
“Well, the family was already of noble stock, but the patriarch was instrumental in rescuing both the Emperor and the Crown Prince from the brink of death, or so the records say.”
“Ah, I see. In those chaotic days before the nation’s foundations were even laid, such things would have been possible.”
“In any case, the family has been devoutly faithful for generations, and the Young Lord himself is rumored to be a notorious ascetic.”
Ascetic.
Turning the word and all its implications over in my mind, I nodded quietly.
“His wife-to-be will have a difficult time of it.”
………
But instead of the expected response, a strange silence fell.
When I looked up, confused, Hope was staring at me with an expression difficult to put into words.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What? No, I… that is…”
Could he have found it suspicious that I was probing so thoroughly into Densum’s details?
As I suspected, Hope hesitated before speaking carefully.
“Well, madam. I’m ordinarily the sort who follows orders faithfully without questioning the details… but might I ask why you suddenly requested information on unmarried noblemen?”
At least he wasn’t asking about Densum specifically.
I calmly produced an answer I had prepared in advance for just such a moment.
“My father has his eye on them as potential suitors for remarriage. Since they’ve surely investigated me, it’s only fair that I understand them before making my choice.”
“What?! Madam, you’re to remarry?!”
“Well, I suppose I can hardly defy the family’s wishes. That’s simply the way of things for a widow.”
Gasp.
It was a rather convincing lie, cleverly mixed with partial truths.
Yet Hope seemed to have received a far greater shock than I’d anticipated, his face contorting in alarm.
He gripped the edge of the desk, leaning forward with sudden intensity.
“Then what about our Lord?!”
“Claude? What about him?”
“Ah, no… please forget you heard that. It’s nothing.”
Despite his words, Hope’s hands were ruthlessly tearing at his own hair as he turned away.
In barely audible tones, self-reproaches tumbled out—”I’m done for!” and “I’m going to get beaten again!”
“…Come to think of it, Claude doesn’t know about this yet, does he?”
“What? Ah, yes. That’s correct.”
“Then it’s better he continues not knowing. Deep involvement in my affairs would do him no good.”
Now I intended to pursue Densum to devise the perfect painting to gift him.
‘Which means it’s best if I move alone from here on.’
Accordingly, I had decided to exclude Hope from my plans as well. I could not stain these innocent good intentions with blood.
“You’ve worked hard, Hope. Go to the kitchen now.”
“But…”
“Romaine must be baking pastries just for you. Aren’t you curious?”
“What? Is that really true?!”
As I gave a light nod, Hope’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“Then I’ll take my leave. Madam, if you need anything else, please call for me anytime!”
“Thank you. Good work.”
Hope bowed to me and hurried out of the office.
Left alone in the room, I turned my eyes back to Densum’s profile and stared quietly at the photograph attached to the document, my grip tightening.
‘This man. He’s the one who killed Camille.’
As pressure built in my fingertips, the stiff paper warped and let out a small cry of protest.
“What sort of painting shall I gift him…?”
* * *
What manner of man was Densum?
The one I remembered was excessively meticulous and cautious.
It was ironically his very temperament—that fastidious nature—which had first led me to exclude him from suspicion.
I had reasoned that a man like that could never have committed an impulsive murder at a public gathering like Camille’s birthday celebration.
‘But it was all a misunderstanding.’
Reminding myself that humans are creatures one can never truly know until one experiences them firsthand, I was just stepping into the Temple when—
“Oh my, madam!”
Ah, this fool.
Why had I let myself forget something so obvious?
“So you’re the sister. It’s wonderful to see you here at the Temple.”
Basaria. Whenever I came to the Temple, I was bound to encounter this man—a fact I’d somehow managed to overlook.
“I trust you’ve been well?”
I pushed down the wave of confusion rising in me and looked up at Basaria, draped in his pristine white robes.
Save for a beauty mark and the shape of his hair, his face remained an exact copy of Camille’s, staring down at me.
“…Priest. It’s been a while. Have you been staying here all this time?”
Fortunately, these past few days of composing myself had left my voice steadier than I expected.
“Yes. With the High Priest’s kindness, I’ve been living within the Temple and assisting with its work.”
“I see.”
The discomfort lingered, urging me to leave, but Basaria caught me with words once more.
“Actually, sister, you’re welcome to call me by my name. I’d be much more comfortable with that.”
“…”
“Please, call me Sara from now on.”
Unaware of the storm churning inside me, he smiled with childlike clarity, waiting for my answer.
“…Very well, Sara.”
The urge to flee rose to the tips of my hair, but there were far too many eyes watching.
In the end, I had no choice but to follow his lead.
“Since you’re here, would you mind showing me deeper into the Temple?”
“…”
Some people, it seemed, possessed a natural gift for bending another’s will to their own.
Basaria appeared to be one such person, and my instincts failed me—I couldn’t push him away and found myself being drawn along.
Meanwhile, the Temple’s interior thrummed with the fervor of those seeking salvation and the pale robes of its priests.
I forced my gaze away from Basaria and instead looked about, searching for any sign of Densum.
But he was nowhere to be found.
‘That’s right. The world doesn’t work so conveniently.’
Setting aside my disappointment, I decided instead to deepen my understanding of the man trailing faithfully beside me.
“So, have you found the demon?”
Basaria’s lips quivered briefly in surprise, then his mouth settled into a melancholy smile as he shook his head.
“No. I’m still tracking it.”
Still tracking—meaning it continued to move in the shadows, concealed beneath the surface.
I pressed on as though ignorant of this.
“…Is the demon definitely somewhere within the Empire? It’s hard to feel it’s real, even now—just like it was then.”
“That’s understandable. There are those who deny the demon’s very existence and make quarrels about it.”
Basaria added what he’d learned from his parents, who were from Etherion.
Even there, people readily accepted the existence of God while refusing to acknowledge that demons existed at all.
It was for this reason, he explained, that Heretic Judges were such a rare and specialized class.
“To fulfill your duty without receiving the world’s recognition—that’s a difficult calling, isn’t it? Being a Heretic Judge.”
“What work isn’t difficult? I consider it a blessing simply to be able to fulfill this calling.”
“…I see.”
The more I spoke with him, the more my inner depths seemed to darken with shadow, yet I held my expression steady and unmoved.
We strolled through the Temple in quiet for a moment, when suddenly Basaria came to a stop.
“But the demon is certainly within the Empire. Very close, in fact.”
“…”
“However, don’t worry too much. For good souls like yourself, I will ensure it causes no harm. I take responsibility for dealing with it.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Whether he’d hidden the demon anywhere or not, he would find it. That’s what his words told me.
I met his gaze with eyes as cold as ice and smiled.
The fragile standoff shattered with the arrival of someone approaching.
“What are you doing here?”

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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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