My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 56

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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 Inside a Painting — Episode 56
In the end, I let out a small sigh and turned my head away from him.
“I apologize for overstepping earlier.”
“No. It was I who was at fault first.”
The moment the tension dissolved, exhaustion crashed over me all at once.
I pressed my throbbing temple and moved to conclude the matter.
“In any case, I’m truly grateful for today. The marriage talk between Calangko and the duke—I intend for it to be forgotten.”
“I’m relieved I could be of help.”
“But I do hope word of today’s business doesn’t spread. A background investigation into someone—it’s not exactly a favorable mark on Sara or myself either.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“And regarding compensation—”
“It’s not necessary.”
Basaria cut across my orderly accounting of the situation.
I looked up at him slowly, blocking my path as he was, but when our eyes met his captivating smile, I found myself reflexively still.
“Instead.”
He caught my hand that had been pressed to my forehead, drawing it smoothly away before placing a gentle kiss upon the back of my hand.
“Whenever you find yourself thinking of me, do come steal some of my time.”
It was a smile of such terrible beauty, as if designed to entrance me.
* * *
Elsewhere, Prita let out a small click of her tongue.
“Blast it, I can’t hear anything from this distance.”
She hadn’t set out from the beginning with the intention of following Ob. She had simply happened upon her by chance in the Square.
But the moment she witnessed Ob—who ordinarily loathed even leaving the house—disappearing into an alley with a strange man, Prita felt fury surge all the way to the crown of her head.
‘The shameless woman. How long has it been since she was widowed, and already she’s taking a new man?’
Poor Camille! What curse had bound him to such a woman.
The lingering bitterness from the last tea time had not yet faded, so Prita turned from her path toward the Salon and immediately gave chase.
She would catch them in the act the moment they engaged in anything improper with a strange man, and expose that ugly true face for all the world to see.
“But… what on earth has she been staring at so intently all this time?”
Ob stood beside the man, both of them fixed upon the same spot with stubborn attention, but the distance was too great for Prita to make out what it was.
Her maid spoke anxiously from behind her.
“Miss, Miss! Wandering about this late will get us all in terrible trouble!”
“Hush now. What’s the harm in staying out a day longer?”
“B-but the master specifically said to mind your conduct at least until the wedding—”
“Ugh! I don’t want to hear it. If you’re going to nag, either go ahead first or manage on your own.”
Prita waved her hand dismissively, as if batting away an annoying insect.
The maid, tears welling in her eyes, could say nothing to her thoughtless mistress and only bit her lip firmly.
‘What scheme is she cooking up?’
Meanwhile, Prita sank deep into thought.
The Ob she remembered from childhood was timid, sensitive, and quiet—a girl who kept to herself.
At times she seemed like an old woman who had seen through life itself, yet when one observed how she morbidly avoided even the slightest contact with the opposite sex, her inner nature proved impossible to fathom.
‘But lately she’s changed. Her character seems bolder too.’
Of course, a person’s nature could change with the passing of years.
Yet the doubt that lingered stubbornly might well be because she had experienced it herself.
“Miss Prita, do you so wish to see my painting? Then I shall have it sent to you separately. To this Mansion.”
“…Pardon? What do you—”
“I shall make you a gift of it.”
“Right. Even at tea time I thought something was off. Her gaze was so cold that without meaning to—”
“Miss, if I may—”
“Be quiet.”
“But—”
“I said be quiet! Can’t you see I’m thinking?”
“They’re heading this way right now…!”
“What?”
I turned my gaze urgently toward where the maid’s fingertip pointed, and saw Ob’s party rising to leave.
Prita hastily concealed herself behind a pillar, drinking in the sight of the two approaching figures, and then a smirk played at her lips.
‘At last I’ll see his face!’
Her heart raced with excitement at the thought of finally seeing the man’s face that had been shrouded in mystery.
But the moment she glimpsed the face of the man passing before her, Prita went rigid on the spot.
“Wow! He’s quite the handsome fellow, isn’t he? Isn’t he just the type you fancy, Miss?”
“…”
“Miss?”
Prita didn’t hear the maid’s call. Her eyes followed the receding figure of the man, her gaze vacant and dazed.
There was only one reason for it.
“……Camille?”
The man before her bore the exact same face as the one she had loved so ardently.
* * *
Prita sought out Densum the very next day after returning from the Square.
When he saw her burst in without announcement, displeasure flickered across Densum’s eyes.
“……Miss Dinapoli. What brings you to these quarters?”
For a man who believed that a strict hierarchy existed even among the nobility, an uninvited visit from a mere earl’s daughter was a flagrant breach of propriety.
But Prita herself was too thick-skinned to be discouraged by such blunt rejection.
“Duke Calangko. I’ve come because there’s something I simply must tell you.”
“A letter would have sufficed, surely.”
“If a letter would have done, I wouldn’t be here in person, would I?”
“…….”
Watching Densum’s silence, Prita smiled with confidence.
She was certain that pressing this hard would at least elicit a willingness to hear her out.
But in just one exchange, Densum had already rendered his judgment upon her.
‘Utterly tactless. No point engaging further.’
He considered not offering her tea a sufficient courtesy to a lady, and without hesitation he rose from his seat and moved toward the Reception Room door.
“Wait, just a moment! Where are you going?”
Shocked by this unexpected coldness, Prita lurched to her feet.
“I have pressing matters to attend to. Please see yourself out.”
“Your Grace!”
She called after him desperately, but Densum, already turned away, strode toward the door with relentless purpose.
His blatant refusal made color flood into Prita’s face, and she bit down hard on her lower lip.
‘How dare he—! No, wait. I can’t lose this man!’
She was desperate enough to swallow her pride quickly.
‘If I lose him, I’ll have no way to learn about Camille……!’
Camille was dead.
And his mother, Belladonna, was not someone of a station Prita could easily approach.
His father was absent, and his younger brother, by all accounts, was little better than an ill-mannered beast.
Now that Pistachio and Butter had both vanished, Densum Calangko represented Prita’s last option.
“Are you truly certain that Camille Ortega is dead? Is there really not even a one percent chance he’s alive?”
Abandoning all the elaborate preamble she’d prepared, Prita poured out her question in urgent haste.
“After Duke Ortega’s passing, both Baron Pistachio and Marquis Butter disappeared one after another! Haven’t you considered that this might all be someone’s deliberate scheme?”
“…….”
Her words, laden with maximum drama, finally drew the quarry—who had paused just before turning the doorknob—to bite at the bait.
Yet suspicion still clouded Densum’s eyes as he adjusted his spectacles with an icy stare and replied flatly.
“Both of them had many enemies. Either would have been unsurprising targets for assassination.”
“But…… but the three of them were friends! How could it be that all three died or vanished at nearly the same time—”
“Friends? By that logic, every Academy graduate is a friend. And the four of us didn’t always move as one. We each had separate circles, separate families. As a thread connecting them, it’s far too thin, wouldn’t you say?”
“But…….”
“And, Miss Dinapoli.”
Toward Prita, now bereft of words, Densum began to move slowly.
Bracing one hand on the table, he looked down at her with an imposing gaze and spoke in a voice as glacial as ice.
“Camille, Gail, Pagoda, and myself—three out of four dead or missing. So someone’s deliberate hand is behind it…….”
“…….”
“The most likely suspect that hypothesis points to would be me, wouldn’t it?”

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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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