My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 63

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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 Picture — Episode 63
So I decided to simply ask him.
“Were you worried about me?”
……
I stared at him for a moment in silence, then buried my face deeper into his embrace.
After a brief pause, I spoke again.
“……I think it was something Densem did.”
Only then did Camille slowly lower his gaze to look down at me.
A deep furrow creased his elegant brow.
“Even so, we should share what happened.”
“Cold-blooded? We just reunited, darling.”
“Isn’t this much joy enough from a reunion?”
……
It felt as though our lines had been swapped, but I didn’t mind in the least.
I pressed on with deliberate firmness.
“While the memory is fresh, I can relay every detail without missing a single clue. There’s more than one thing I need to tell you—”
“Sigh…… Fine. I understand. I said I understand.”
Snap—
Camille flicked his finger lightly, and our bodies lifted effortlessly into the air.
The world around us blurred without resistance, and a round greenhouse with transparent glass walls on all sides came into view.
My body descended softly onto a white outdoor table and chair that materialized in the void.
“How did I end up contracting with such an ice-cold woman…….”
Even as he grumbled, a Teapot and Teacup appeared on the table.
“Chamomile Tea. It’ll help calm your nerves.”
“……Thank you.”
I took a sip of the warm tea he’d poured for me.
Camille, who had been staring at me with his chin resting on his hand, resumed the conversation he’d paused.
“So, you think the Marquis of Calangkoe is behind it. That means those mercenaries were hired by him?”
“……Yes.”
“How can you be certain?”
At Camille’s interrogation, I laid out everything I had witnessed.
“It seemed they were trying to pin everything on Freeta, but there were definitely clues pointing to the Marquis of Calangkoe.”
First, there was the object inside the wooden chest in the cabin.
It was a Scripture.
“And there was the scent of Holy Oil. I suspect the cabin was where Sacred Artifacts were kept.”
The roots of House of Calangkoe lie in the Temple.
They were the only noble family descended from a Priest, and that was my first clue.
“And if Freeta truly intended revenge out of unrequited love, she would have chosen to inflict humiliation.”
There were things in this world more terrible than death.
Such as subjecting captives to unspeakable shame.
“But strangely, she didn’t do anything. It was as if my life alone were her only objective.”
……
“I haven’t done anything in my ordinary life that would earn such enmity, so the answer naturally narrowed down to one.”
I thought it was fairly sharp reasoning, but Camille’s expression seemed troubled.
As I studied him with questioning eyes, he suddenly opened his mouth.
“……I’m suddenly having regrets.”
“About what?”
“I should have killed him more painfully. Slowly, and for a very long time.”
A terrible light that had burned fiercely in his eyes suddenly shifted and fixed upon my face.
“That scar on your forehead — those bastards made it, didn’t they?”
“……Ah.”
Without thinking, I brought my hand to my forehead.
A stinging ache came with it, and the dried blood clung stiffly to my fingertips.
“I made this one myself. The Pencil broke, and I had no choice.”
“What?”
“I needed something to draw with.”
Bang!
The instant I finished speaking, Camille slammed both hands on the table and rose roughly.
His distorted gaze then fixed upon me.
“Are you completely insane?”
Her face was tremendously angry.
“……What?”
“Are you mad?”
Blinking rapidly with a dazed expression, I answered in bewilderment.
“W-well, I had no choice. I needed to find something to draw, but there was simply nothing to be found in that open space.”
“Even so, how could you wound yourself like that? What if you’d damaged your eye?”
“I deliberately chose a smooth spot, so it’s fine. Look, the wound is precisely on my forehead, centered—”
“Enough!”
At her cry, I clamped my mouth shut.
But reading the persistent bewilderment in my eyes, Camille’s shoulders sagged in defeat.
“You are…….”
Yet as she studied my ruined face carefully, she simply shook her head as if giving up.
Then she gently placed her palms over my forehead.
A violet radiance spread softly across it, and the pain vanished as though washed away.
“There. Done.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose, then turned away coldly and sat back in her chair.
I touched my forehead where her fingertips had rested, my expression still bewildered.
“A Demon can heal too?”
“Yes. It differs in its principles from Holy Power, but there exist formulas within Magic pertaining to healing.”
“Ah…….”
Having finished her explanation, Camille sniffed sharply again and folded her arms.
Embarrassed, I reached out to soothe her anger. My fingertips touched her sleeve carefully.
“Still, Camille, I’m safe because of you.”
“Safe from what.”
“The Special Training. It turned out to be more effective than expected—I wasn’t even frightened when that situation arose.”
It was a remark made to gauge her mood, but it was no mere flattery.
“……Then I’m relieved.”
“Right?”
At my words, Camille’s pouting lips found their way back to their usual place.
Though she answered dismissively, her swishing tail already betrayed that her anger had melted away.
‘She’s simple, really.’
Still maintaining her crossed-arms posture, she asked in a sullen voice.
“Anyway, so Densem is behind this kidnapping? Then he’s caught on to our plan?”
“He likely won’t know the secret behind the painting. But he’s probably realized I have some other scheme.”
“The result is the same. He won’t simply accept the painting from us now.”
“That’s…….”
True enough.
Silence settled between us for a moment.
Though time itself felt dim in this place, I had the strange illusion of hearing a sharp ticking from somewhere.
After a long silence, I finally arrived at the essential problem.
“We need to investigate Densem further. We’re missing too much.”
Camille asked back.
“I agree. But from now on, it’s obvious he’ll watch you even more closely. Wouldn’t it be better to raise the stakes and draw him out directly?”
“That’s too dangerous. The moment my tail is caught, everyone around me will be dragged into it. And…….”
I stopped speaking for a moment and fixed my gaze on her.
“If I can’t move, then someone else can.”
“Someone else?”
Camille tilted her head with a puzzled expression.
Instead of answering, I pressed my lips together and swallowed my words.
Yes. In that other world, I had another ally who could help me.
Another being with an identical face.
Chapter 11. All Things According to God’s Will
Shoulders held straight and true.
Posture correct.
And a face smiling gently.
“Sister, to hear that you have need of my assistance…….”
“…….”
“I am truly delighted. I must offer thanks to God for granting me such an opportunity.”
There was nothing quite as strange as meeting in reality the face I had encountered in the painting just moments before.
‘I never thought I would find this man again with my own feet.’
But in the end, I was the one with more to lose, so I pushed aside my suspicion of him for the moment.
“So, sister, what brings you to seek me out?”
Basaria greeted me with a smile of unbridled delight as I walked through the Temple doors of my own accord.
“Have you come looking for a substitute husband?”
“No, it’s something else.”
“Ah, I see.”
For some reason, Basaria’s expression fell slightly, and he clicked his tongue with obvious disappointment.
I was about to call him out on it, but thought better of it and got straight to the point instead.
“Do you remember that person from last time? The one I was… watching. The one I followed.”
“Ah! You mean the Marquis of Calangkoe?”
“Shh!”
“Mmph.”
I quickly clapped my hand over Basaria’s mouth in alarm.

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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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