My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 8

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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 The Painting 008
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The Flower Field, now that the dark clouds had passed, seemed to ripple once more with fragrant hues, as if erasing the tumult of moments before.
We stood facing each other beneath a tree.
The man who had been bound released my wrist, then extended his hand toward me.
“The Contractors are you and I. I promise to do everything in my power to help you achieve what you desire.”
……
“And I swear this: until the day you accomplish your purpose, I will never harm you.”
I placed my hand quietly upon his and nodded.
“The price of the Contract is your Soul, as I said. And each time your Vengeance is completed, I will take a portion of that Soul. Is that acceptable?”
“……Yes.”
“Anything else you’d add?”
“No.”
“Good. Then the Contract is sealed.”
As the words left his mouth, a small mark appeared on the back of my hand.
A seal resembling a white magnolia. It glowed faintly for a moment, then faded silently away.
“That’s all?”
“Yes. Should’ve done this long ago—easy enough, wasn’t it?”
……
‘He really has no shame.’
Yet despite his brazenness, the Contract itself sounded remarkably reasonable.
The promise never to harm me before my purpose was fulfilled, the pledge to help me achieve my desires—both rang true.
‘Who is this man, really……?’
I studied him quietly as he hummed to himself, his expression still maddeningly opaque.
A small sigh escaped me, and I sank onto the bench.
‘I’m exhausted.’
Now that the storm had passed, an overwhelming fatigue crashed over me.
But my brief respite was cut short when the man suddenly planted himself on the ground across from me and launched into conversation, sprawling with casual ease.
“All right, now tell me. In your view, who looks like the culprit?”
“Hmm……”
The culprit.
I had no luxury to indulge my fatigue, so I opened my mouth again.
“If I had to suspect someone…… I’d think it might be your friends.”
“My friends?”
“The people who were always with you.”
“Ah, right. What were their names again?”
As I sidelong glanced at him, he shrugged with utter nonchalance.
“Sorry. My memory’s gotten fuzzy since I came into The Painting.”
“I see.”
“Why would I lie?”
Truly shameless. It seemed he’d left his conscience outside The Painting along with everything else.
But I had no desire to waste unnecessary emotion, so I dutifully recited the names.
“Gail Pistachio, Pagoda Butter, and Densum Kalangkoe. Those three.”
“I should write those down. And your reason for suspecting those three is?”
“First of all……”
I searched my memory.
The three had grown up with my husband from childhood and attended the Academy together, or so I’d heard.
‘But whether that relationship was ever truly good…… that’s another question.’
It wasn’t, not really.
The three of them were frankly of poor character to call his friends.
First, there was Gail Pistachio.
“Talent is nothing but chance of birth in the end. What would someone lucky enough to be born with it know?”
He never hid his open inferiority complex toward Kamiyou. Even I, knowing him poorly, could see him cross lines more than once—the sort who would harm my husband without hesitation.
Second was Pagoda Butter.
“It must be difficult, having such a dull husband. Whenever you feel lonely, you’re welcome to call on me.”
He was a man excessively enamored with women. And there was something unsettling, almost repugnant, in the glimmer of his eyes when our gazes crossed in passing.
And finally, Densum.
“……I am Claudel. I find it curious that Belladonna chose this woman as Kamiyou’s partner.”
Of the three, he was the most composed. Though he clearly disliked me.
But beyond their twisted natures, there was another, decisive reason I suspected them.
“The three men who never failed to show their faces at Ortega’s events—for some reason, not even their shadows appeared at Kamiyou’s funeral.”
“How curious. Usually in this business, people attend investigations even if they skip the celebrations.”
“Exactly what I mean.”
The man listened to my explanation in silence, then gave a slight nod.
“Those three do seem like the strongest suspects.”
“But that’s all I know. Whether one of them is actually the culprit…”
“You don’t know. My body’s already buried in the ground.”
I nodded silently.
“With so little evidence… it would be impossible to exhume the grave for another autopsy, wouldn’t it?”
…….
“I’m joking. Don’t make that face.”
When I narrowed my eyes in disapproval, the man laughed smoothly and steered past the moment with ease.
A brief silence fell, and I, lost in thought, carefully opened my mouth.
“About you…”
“Not me—Kamiyou.”
Ah. I’d been deliberately avoiding saying his name.
Even now, I couldn’t fathom why this man insisted on playing the role of my husband.
But what could I do?
We’d even made a Contract. I had no choice but to go along.
“…Kamiyou, you—”
“Yes.”
“Have no memory of the moment you died?”
In truth, there was a hidden meaning beneath those words: if you’re really a demon, shouldn’t you be able to identify the culprit easily?
But Kamiyou answered quickly, as if mocking my shallow hope.
“Right. Unfortunately, I remember nothing.”
“…I see.”
“It’s all right, though. There’s another way.”
And his next words came without hesitation.
“Let’s interrogate them one by one. That should work, no?”
“One by one?”
“Yes.”
“Interrogate…”
But reality proved far less cooperative.
‘Kamiyou can’t leave this place. So I’d have to be the one to go out?’
Just then, shadow fell across my vision, and I lifted my gaze without thinking.
Behind Kamiyou, who had risen to his feet, sunlight scattered like a halo.
“Ob. You don’t actually think I’m just some ghost trapped in The Painting, do you?”
“…Pardon?”
“Leave the tedious and difficult work to me. You’re my wife, and my Contractor.”
A petal carried on the wind brushed against his hair.
‘Leave everything to him, he says.’
I couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of those words.
But Kamiyou’s lips were already curling into a mischievous smile.
“Ah…”
A pale, large hand drew near and carefully brushed through my hair.
I had meant to step back without thinking, but I froze as a kiss fell lightly upon my head.
“So. Among those three…”
His lips curved upward with a softness that belied the chilling clarity of his smile.
“Which one do you want to kill first?”
Chapter 2. Charitable Exhibition
“Madam! Where on earth have you been!”
Romaine, whom I was seeing again after an age, treated me as though I’d died and come back to life.
“I’m hungry. Could you bring me something to eat?”
“Of course, madam. Good heavens…madam! You’ve become positively gaunt…!”
Gaunt. That blunt assessment caught me off guard for a moment.
‘How long was I in there?’
Moments later, when Romaine explained that I’d been missing for three full days, clarity struck like a blow.
‘I nearly died.’
Only then did I grasp the gravity of what had happened.
Bewitched by that demon, I had forgotten hunger and thirst within The Painting.
‘No, a devil through and through.’
In any case, I’d already thrown my lot in with him, so there was no backing out now. The white magnolia mark on the back of my hand glowed with perfect clarity.
‘So… what do I do from here on out?’
I turned over the tasks Kamiyou had given me. Let’s see—what came first…….
“My lady! First, you must eat something.”
“……Right.”
Yes. Food first, thinking later.
After I’d stuffed myself with the meal Romaine prepared until I could barely breathe, my thoughts finally began to flow clearly again, as if oil had been poured into the gears of my mind.
“So out of those three, who do you want to kill first?”

First, I had to answer that question.

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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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