My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 55

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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 55
“Wait—what in the heavens are you doing?!”
The man jumped to his feet, his face flushed with indignation, but Densum merely responded with thinly veiled annoyance.
“Be quiet. Your crude voice makes it impossible for me to concentrate on my prayers.”
“W-what—? I’ve barely said anything, and you—!”
“Shut your mouth and get out. This instant. You vulgar creature.”
“Did—did you really just say that to me?!”
As the hostile standoff between the two men stretched on, those seated nearby began to sense the tension and quietly slip away from their seats.
As though accustomed to such scenes, several Holy Knights and Priests hurried over to begin mediating the situation.
……
“Ha. He’s being particularly theatrical today, isn’t he?”
Only then did I understand why Densum had no one sitting near him.
“Is he always like that?”
“More or less, you could say.”
……
“Are you still troubled?”
At this point, invoking the Guest Restriction Edict to tell him to leave me alone seemed both awkward and unjust.
I pressed my lips shut instead and averted my gaze.
The fact that Densum’s name appeared on the remarriage list had been merely a pretext—but I could not speak the truth aloud, so I remained silent.
Basaria, unaware of this fact, displayed his concern openly, his expression growing troubled.
“Truth be told, I witnessed something by chance not long ago, and I think it would be wise to tell you about it. Otherwise, you might make a grave mistake.”
“……I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Would you return here again this evening?”
“Pardon?”
I looked up at him with widened eyes, and Basaria smiled—a beautiful, radiant smile that lit his flushed cheeks.
“I have something rather fascinating to show you.”
* * *
When the sunset had painted the Temple’s roof in crimson, I encountered Basaria waiting for me at the entrance.
“Inspector Sara.”
“You came! I’ve been waiting for you.”
I had begun to approach him, drawn by the warmth in his voice, when I hesitated for just a moment.
Dressed not in his usual uniform but in civilian clothes, with his short hair half-pinned up, he presented an unfamiliar appearance.
“Those clothes……”
“Do they look strange?”
“No, not strange, but……”
“That’s a relief. I took some care to resemble an ordinary noble, nothing more.”
Yes, the care showed.
Enough that passersby turned to glance at him as they went.
The beauty that had been hidden beneath his austere Priest’s robes now drew the eye far more openly when adorned in elegant garments.
‘And he resembled them even more now.’
Basaria led me forward into the Plaza, as I habitually searched for the points of resemblance between him and Camille.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see once we arrive.”
Basaria led me on for some distance.
The sunset dipped beyond the buildings, and as darkness claimed the Plaza, lanterns began to flicker to life one by one.
Only belatedly did I realize that if I were to disappear here—having come alone, deliberately without an escort—no one would ever find me.
‘Why did I come here? Is he taking me somewhere dangerous?’
I gripped the Pencil I had hidden in my bodice tightly, my face hardening.
Then Basaria, who had been humming as he walked ahead, suddenly stopped.
“You mustn’t make a sound now.”
He placed a finger to his lips, showing me the gesture, and signaled me to come quietly forward.
Reluctantly, I approached him and carefully craned my neck to peer beyond the building.
What came into view was a small shop standing alone at the end of a dark Alley, its interior lit by a single light.
“Is that……a Tavern?”
“It appears to be one, doesn’t it? But look more closely at it.”
“Where should I……ah.”
Squinting, I examined what Basaria was pointing to, and soon discovered an odd inscription carved into the entrance.
“No Women Allowed?”
“Strange, isn’t it? Such a sign in such a remote Tavern.”
“Is it some kind of…house of vice?”
“Yes. And how fortunate that you’ve arrived just now.”
Basaria, standing behind me, pulled me toward him without warning.
It was merely a considerate gesture to keep my body from exposure, yet finding myself suddenly cradled in his arms, I froze entirely.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
I shook my head hastily at his innocent question, then lifted my gaze once more.
And belying the momentary confusion, my expression hardened into something cold.
I had just witnessed Densum knocking on the tavern door.
The proprietor who emerged inside greeted him with genuine warmth and ushered him in.
“Doesn’t he look like a regular?”
“……Is this what you call amusing?”
“Why, don’t you find it rather intriguing? A man of such piety frequenting a place like that.”
“…….”
Admittedly strange—though hardly the sort of observation one would expect from a Heretic Judge.
Yet separate from that, the scene he had revealed to me was quite shocking.
My mind raced swiftly as I calculated my next move.
‘Then I could simply paint the woman’s portrait for Densum as well, couldn’t I?’
I had come this far seeking some thread that might capture Densum’s interest.
‘All the better, really. I’ve drawn it once—doing it twice should hardly be difficult.’
The moment I decided to paint the same subject as I had for Pagoda, the burden that had weighed upon me like unfinished homework dissolved cleanly away.
But solving one problem only brought another obstacle rising to the surface.
“But Sister.”
Basaria, opening his mouth abruptly, was precisely that obstacle.
“Do I resemble your late husband so very closely?”
I regarded him in silence for a moment before finally speaking.
“……You do resemble him. Except you lack the beauty mark.”
“I see.”
“But why do you ask?”
I deliberated whether I ought to apologize to him first. Being told one resembled someone’s deceased husband was hardly a pleasant experience.
“If that troubled you, I’m sorry. I should have said nothing at all.”
My apology to Basaria stemmed from a selfish calculation—an attempt to dispel his suspicions of me.
Thus I had no luxury of considering his inner thoughts as he received those words.
“No, not at all. It’s quite all right.”
Yes, that much was certainly within my expectations. As a Priest, he would tend toward gentleness.
But what followed exceeded those expectations entirely.
“In fact, I’m rather glad. I thought perhaps I might be of some use to you.”
“……What do you mean?”
“Should you ever find yourself in need of someone to stand in for a husband, please do not hesitate to say so.”
“…….”
But whereas Basaria smiled pleasantly, my face had gone rigid.
“Sarah.”
I stepped back two paces, putting distance between us, and spoke in a low voice.
“Are you simply too kind? Or do you have some other design?”
“Pardon?”
“Frankly, the latter seems far more suspect. How long have we known each other that you would speak such words?”
Let him think me oversensitive if he will—I cannot help it. Or rather, would it not be stranger still to regard this with anything but doubt?
‘And this man is a Heretic Judge, no less.’
I had already made my choice. To stand with Camille and see it through to the end.
And so his kindness, above all else, was something I could not help but regard with caution.
“Ah, I do apologize. There was no particular intention behind it……. Dear me.”
Watching me bristle like an alley cat, Basaria flicked his lips uncertainly.
He spread both palms open, attempting to prove with his entire body that he meant no harm.
Yet as I refused to release my suspicion, he finally conceded defeat, offering a bitter smile and letting slip a confession long buried.
“……It’s simply that I, too, carry the memory of having lost someone precious.”
I held my breath in that singular instant.
“Whenever that person comes to mind, I’ve sometimes wished that someone might take their place for me. And so I made a vague assumption that perhaps you harbored the same feeling.”
“…….”
“But I see I’ve meddled where I shouldn’t have. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I truly apologize.”
I watched in silence as Basaria, one hand resting at his chest, lowered his head in a bow.
His kindness toward someone nearly a stranger, bereft of any price or ulterior purpose, remained utterly incomprehensible by any measure of sense I possessed.
‘I mustn’t let my suspicion fade…… I can’t.’
But my resolve keeps slipping, the walls of my conviction crumbling brick by brick.

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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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