My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 71

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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 071
It was my first time.
The first time I’d ever directly harmed another person.
‘I’ve heard that some knights abandon their calling because they hesitate when drawing their blade.’
I couldn’t understand that at all.
It felt this exhilarating—so why would they hesitate?
“S-save me! Someone!”
Densem spun around urgently and bolted toward the door.
I hurled myself at him, seizing his legs as he reached for the handle.
“Ugh!”
Crash—!
I scrambled up over his fallen body, pinning him to the floor, and pressed my dagger flush against his throat.
“Where were you running off to, hmm?”
“H-h-help……!”
Scarlet droplets fell from the dagger’s tip, one after another.
Seeing the blood spill from his own body, Densem unleashed his last desperate gambit.
“Do you really think Camille would be proud of you like this?”
……
“This isn’t justice! It’s murder!”
I hesitated at those words.
‘In my past life, there were countless revenge stories.’
At the end of such tales, the same tired lines always seemed to emerge, as if by covenant.
That hackneyed sermon—that repaying evil with evil made you no better than them.
……But what else was I supposed to do?
‘From the start, this was a revenge meant to make me the same as them, or worse—a Demon.’
“That’s right. Maybe that ‘Camille’ would despise me for what I am now.”
“Y-yes, yes, exactly—so—”
“But I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. You see, my husband is no longer human. He’s a Demon.”
“……What?”
“Farewell, Densem.”
I raised the dagger high.
“I hope you find hell. Just like those two did.”
And it was the moment I was about to plunge the blade into Densem’s throat that it happened.
“Stop, Ob.”
Warmth from someone heavy settled across my shoulders.
……!
“You can’t do this.”
My heart seemed to stop; the world went silent. I swallowed the ragged breaths that had torn from my lungs and turned my head slowly, my body trembling.
‘The wind…….’
Wind gusting through the wide-open window pushed the white cloth that had covered the canvas down to the floor.
White light spilled from the revealed portrait, rippling and enfolding me in its gentle warmth.
“We agreed that I’d handle the dirty work. You should only ever see beautiful things. Understand?”
“But I—I need my revenge……!”
“I know. But your hands are too precious to wield a blade. You’re a painter, aren’t you?”
……
The tender voice unraveled my tension without my knowing it.
While I wavered, the pristine light drew Densem’s body toward itself.
“Wh-what is this!”
……!
“Aaaahhh!!”
With a scream, Densem’s form dissolved into nothingness and was pulled away. I stood frozen, my hand reaching uselessly into empty air.
When silence returned, Camille spoke again to my vacant stare.
“Sorry for the interruption. I heard footsteps outside earlier. People will be pouring in any moment now.”
Only then did I strain my ears toward the door.
Indeed, a panicked rush of footsteps was drawing steadily closer.
“So lock the door quickly and rest for a while. We can’t let anyone see you like this.”
I bit my lip. My dress was drenched in blood, the floor was drenched in blood—even my hands were soaked.
‘When did I become……’
In that instant, the blood pooled on the floor evaporated like dust and was drawn into the painting. Even the blood clinging to my fingertips vanished like a mirage that had never existed.
“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
“…….”
Unable to offer any response, she simply nodded.
Then came a satisfied, gentle laugh.
“Good child, so good.”
The soft voice that coaxed the child like a mother faded, and the brilliant light itself vanished from sight.
Only I remained in the room.
I turned my head to face the woman in the mirror.
“…….”
She was a stranger.
‘Was this really how my face looked?’
What I was like before… now, I couldn’t quite remember.
* * *
A bright, sunny weekend.
The Orphanage’s garden was teeming with children.
A woman appeared not long after.
“Come on, everyone. Snack time! Gather around, all of you!”
“Yay!”
The moment the children spotted the tray overflowing with Muffins, a cheerful clamor erupted.
“Muffins! Muffins!”
“Line up nicely in two rows in front of me! Anyone who cuts in line doesn’t get one~”
“Hey, stop pushing! Take your turn!”
“Teacher, he keeps cutting in line!”
The children’s bright laughter mingled with the sweet scent of Muffins drifting through the air.
……Gulp.
‘They look delicious.’
Soft, round cheeks and fingers small as fern fronds.
A child in tattered, grimy clothes peered over the garden wall.
Growl—
‘I’m so hungry.’
The famished child found himself wondering.
‘If even one leftover remains, might they share it with me?’
For months he’d lingered around the Orphanage, yet no scraps were ever left behind. No kind child offered to split their portion with him.
Still, he sought mercy—as if he himself would have surely done the same in their place.
‘I shouldn’t stare so hard. It would burden them…….’
The child knew better than anyone that he smelled.
He was acutely aware of the dingy pink hair matted with dried food scraps, of the filth clinging to his clothes.
And so on that day too, he’d barely poked his head out, holding onto the faint hope that someone might notice him for once, when—
“Who are you?”
At the unfamiliar voice, the child spun around in surprise, his eyes widening.
A blonde girl in a pale sky-blue dress stood before him.
“You’re…… not from Agnus, are you?”
Her vivid crimson eyes narrowed.
The child, who’d been standing slack-jawed, let out a belated hiccup.
“Oh, well, I…… ”
“What brings you all the way here?”
The girl’s indifferent gaze swept over the child’s appearance.
There was no malice in her look, yet the child’s cheeks flushed scarlet.
‘How embarrassing.’
“…….”
Instead of answering, the child squirmed, and a shallow furrow appeared between the girl’s brows.
“Wait here a moment.”
The girl turned and disappeared, only to return moments later carrying an armful of bread.
“Here. Eat this.”
“Oh, um…… uh…….”
Tumble—
The bread spilled into the child’s arms. Among them were some of the Muffins he’d seen earlier.
‘Muffins!’
His eyes lit up, but only briefly before he collected himself and bowed respectfully.
“Th-thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing. But what’s your name…… .”
The bread tumbled from the child’s arms and struck the ground with a soft thud.
At the thought of losing what little food had been gained to the dirt, the child’s hand shot out reflexively.
It never occurred to them that their fingers would meet the girl’s hand.
But the moment their hands touched, the girl recoiled with visible disgust and roughly knocked the child’s hand away.
Smack.
Nursing their stinging hand, the child stood frozen and quickly bowed their head.
“…I… I’m sorry!”
Their heart plummeted.
How repulsed she must feel, having touched someone so filthy.
The words of the people from the red-light district came back to them—that merely looking at their kind made them nauseous.
‘I’ve ruined everything. To someone so kind….’
The girl watching them trembled slightly, her pupils quivering.
She bit her lip anxiously, and when she could bear it no longer, a thin voice escaped her.
“…It’s not because you’re filthy.”
“Pardon?”
As their pale blue eyes met hers, the girl continued, as if offering an excuse.
“I just… I have a trauma about this sort of thing.”
‘A trauma?’
What was that? Something to eat?
“….”
The girl seemed momentarily flustered that the child didn’t understand.
She fell silent in thought before offering further explanation.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I suppose you’d call it, or maybe just a reflex reaction. Either way, it’s one of those things—a condition that doesn’t heal.”
“Post-Traumatic… hmm.”
“You don’t understand?”
The child nodded and wondered: were all nobles really this educated?
“Simply put, it’s not your fault.”
“But… I’m filthy—”
“You’re not.”
The child’s eyes widened.
“So… don’t apologize so easily.”
This was the first time anyone had ever told them they didn’t need to apologize.

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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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