My Husband Lives Inside a Painting Chapter 1

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?”

Because I could no longer pretend not to know, I finally voiced the words I had been holding back.

“I won’t break the contract just because I got unlucky, so please, just be honest with me.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

It was a question I had deliberately sharpened, but the man responded with nothing more than a light scoff.

“Ob. I’m your husband, aren’t I?”

“……”

“Hm? Honey.”

Ignoring his smooth reply, as though he had been waiting for that question, I shifted my gaze and slowly examined the man from head to toe.

Two pointed horns jutting from the top of his head.

A long, arrowhead-shaped tail trailing behind him.

“I look like an ordinary human, no matter how you look at me. Right?”

As if.

I sighed and said,

“I have eyes too, Camille.”

Though it clearly went in one ear and out the other.

“I know. Why?”

“……”

“Do you want me to kiss your eyes?”

‘No. There’s absolutely no reasoning with him.’

I let out an unabashed sigh.

I felt like I would have had a more productive conversation with a human-shaped wall than with him.

How could anyone be this shameless? At this point, wasn’t it a genuine talent?

This man was my husband.

My husband, who had taken his own life two months ago.

It was shocking enough that he had come back to life inside the canvas I had painted, but now he had even become a demon.

‘Is this really happening?’

Was I the one who had gone mad, or was the world insane?

Either way, one of us had clearly lost our mind.

“Ob. More importantly.”

The man, who had somehow approached until he was right in front of me, cast his shadow over me with the sunlight behind him.

Through his cherry-blossom-colored hair fluttering in the gentle breeze, his clear blue eyes stared intently at me.

“Are you not going to do that again today?”

“……You mean go for a walk?”

“Yeah. I’ve already gotten it ready, too.”

A red ribbon dropped onto my lap with a soft thud.

I lowered my gaze, then raised it again to see Camille calmly tying the other end of the ribbon around his own neck.

“……Are you serious?”

“Hm? About what?”

The red ribbon.

My dead husband had prepared it for me because I disliked physical contact with men.

It was meant to be held in my hand, not used like a dog leash!

“I told you, it’s supposed to be tied around your wrist, not your neck.”

I calmly pointed this out with what little patience I had left, but once again, he acted as though he hadn’t heard me.

“But I like it better this way. It feels more like we’re actually going for a walk.”

“That’s vulgar.”

“That’s why I like it even more.”

“……”

Just to make things perfectly clear, my husband had never been this kind of man when he was alive.

The Angel of Ortega. The perfect husband material. The kind of face that would get you an instant pass at a formal meeting between the two families.

Those had all been Camille’s nicknames.

But……

“Who should I kill this time? Your family? My friends? Or Belladonna?”

“Belladonna is your mother.”

“Oh, right.”

“……Haah.”

As I gazed at the blue sky beyond the endless field of flowers, I recalled the past.

‘How did things end up like this?’

Yes. Looking back, all these bizarre events had begun on that day.

……The very day I lost the person I loved most forever.

Chapter 1. My Husband’s Funeral

My husband’s body had been found.

His funeral was held with great splendor.

Perhaps it was even more extravagant than our wedding.

“Belladonna, I’m truly sorry you had to hear such terrible news.”

Even with the death of their eldest son, the prestige of the House of Ortega remained unshaken.

No, if anything, it seemed even more firmly established than before.

“If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to tell me. And make sure you eat, all right?”

“Sniff…… sob……!”

The nobles who had attended the funeral swarmed around Belladonna like a pack of jackals that had spotted prey, offering their condolences.

Warm words of comfort were exchanged, but to me, it all looked nothing more than a well-rehearsed play.

‘Is there even a single person among them who is genuinely grieving?’

A self-deprecating laugh nearly escaped me before I stopped it.

I composed my expression.

‘……No, I suppose I’m hardly one to talk.’

Pushed outside the sea of people dressed in black, I watched the elderly priest deliver his hollow eulogy and fell into my own thoughts.

“……”

Yes.

Perhaps my husband’s death had affected me quite deeply, after all.

An old memory from my past life had suddenly resurfaced.

A happy family is all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

—Those are the opening words of the novel Anna Karenina.

But honestly, I still didn’t quite understand what they meant.

And why would I?

‘You’d have to have lived in a happy family to know.’

I had lived through two families, and both of them had been unhappy.

‘……No.’

Was it three now?

“Camille Ortega, the eldest son of the House of Ortega and the pride of Lady Belladonna, was an austere and virtuous man during his lifetime. Though he was called by God and departed from our side earlier than others, we shall remember his exemplary life for many years to come.”

When the eulogy, which had seemed almost unbearably long, finally ended, several burly workers slowly carried the coffin away.

The elderly priest cleared his throat twice before continuing in a calm voice.

“……According to custom, we should open the coffin and proceed with the memorial rites. However, at the request of the bereaved family, we shall omit that part today.”

At the request of the bereaved family.

I had nothing to do with that decision, so it was undoubtedly Belladonna’s wishes.

And I knew the reason.

‘Because she can’t let anyone else see my husband’s face.’

Because the cause of his death was……

Rumble—

“……Ah.”

As though bidding farewell to the departed, rain began pouring from the sky as if someone had torn a hole in it.

“An umbrella……”

Right on cue, as the torrential rain came down, my mother-in-law, Belladonna, collapsed over the coffin that had been lowered into the hollowed ground.

Then, a horrible wail rang out, louder than the sound of the rain.

“Look at Lady Belladonna. Who would have thought that such an iron-blooded woman could cry like that……”

“She loved her son dearly. It’s only natural. Tsk.”

“By the way, I heard it was suicide…… Is that really true?”

“You fool! Keep your voice down!”

I tightened my grip around the umbrella in my hand and stubbornly kept my eyes fixed straight ahead.

I bit down hard on my lip.

“Ahhh, Camille……! How could you, how could you leave me like this?! Sob……!”

The gloomy whispers of the people and Belladonna’s unpleasant wailing.

‘Ah, it’s so loud.’

That was when it began.

That was when this theatrical mourning started to irritate me beyond endurance.

“I’m amazed you even thought of going outside dressed like that.”

“……I’m sorry.”

“I know your origins are humble, but now that you’re an Ortega, you should at least maintain a minimum level of dignity.”

Belladonna.

The very woman who had always spoken endlessly about the dignity of nobility couldn’t even properly put her hair up today.

It was an astonishingly disheveled appearance.

‘……No, of course it is. Her son died.’

But I wasn’t crying.

If that was the case, then wasn’t it ridiculous for a woman who was crying like that to worry about maintaining dignity?

And yet, when I looked around, everyone except me wore faces of grief.

Even some great-aunt I had never met before was dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

Even people who hadn’t shown their faces once during the entire year since I married into this family had thrown away their umbrellas to mourn his death.

‘Then why am I completely unaffected? Have my tear ducts dried up?’

The question arose naturally, and I soon found the answer.

……Ah.

Yes.

I had never loved Camille.

Not even a little.

The moment I reached that conclusion, it felt as though a heavy stone that had been pressing down on my chest all this time suddenly rolled away.

‘Finally, I’m back to normal. Yes, this is how it should be.’

I no longer had to be dragged outside beneath the dazzling sunlight by Camille.

I would no longer have to endure that inexplicable fluttering in my stomach whenever I looked at his refreshing smile.

In other words, I had finally regained my peace.

‘At last, peace.’

But it was only that night, after the funeral was over, when I was left alone, that I finally realized.

My first life, cut short at the age of twenty-five after being struck by a green soju bottle wielded by my biological father.

My second life, born as the eldest daughter of a baron’s family while carrying the memories of my previous life, only to endure another form of misery.

And my life up until now, which had begun with a political marriage to Camille.

“Lady, I want to know more about you. So please, keep taking up my time.”

After passing through three bitterly cold seasons,

I finally realized that the only happiness I had ever possessed was that man, Camille.