My Husband Lives Inside a Painting Chapter 12

***

 

The chaotic charity exhibition came to a successful close.

And a few days later. After entering the painting, I was giving Camille a brief summary of the newspaper article I had read that morning.

“So, there was this huge article about the exhibition. And as for what it said…”

Perhaps because he hadn’t been able to see the event in person, it didn’t seem to be sinking in for him.

“Hmm…”

He had been fidgeting distractedly the whole time, but then his eyes lit up as if he had thought of something.

“I want to see it for myself. Can’t you draw it?”

“The newspaper?”

“Yeah.”

I couldn’t hide my bewilderment.

“But it would probably take quite a long time to draw all those tiny letters. It would be better if I just told you about it.”

“Is that so?”

Camille curled up the corners of his lips, then lightly dusted off his hands and stood up, beckoning me with a finger.

“Ah, this is a secret. Come with me for a moment.”

Following Camille, I arrived in front of a pristine white canvas.

A clear blue sky, a canvas sitting alone in the middle of a field of flowers in full bloom. Standing before it, Camille continued the conversation from earlier.

“All right, Orb. Go outside and draw a square box.”

“A box?”

“Yeah. About this big.”

Camille spread his arms wide to demonstrate the size.

Reluctantly, I stepped outside the canvas, picked up some brown paint at random, and drew a small box over the flower field.

‘This should be good enough, right?’

It was a pitiful drawing, barely more than a brown rectangular prism, but I narrowed my eyes and gave a half-hearted nod.

When I returned, Camille was waiting for me with his arms crossed in front of a wooden box.

“I feel like you drew it without putting much effort into it… But anyway. What do you think is inside?”

“I didn’t really think about it when I drew it.”

“Still, try imagining something.”

“Hmm. Since this is a flower field, maybe there’s fertilizer or something inside?”

“Yeah. I suppose so, right? Now open it.”

What on earth is he trying to do?

At Camille’s gesture, I reluctantly approached and placed my hand on top of the box.

But when I opened the lid, there was, astonishingly, a sack of fertilizer for flowers and plants inside. It was even exactly what I had imagined.

“How…”

I raised my dazed face, and he chuckled softly.

“Orb. Whatever you imagine becomes reality here. I can make it happen.”

“Something like that… is it really possible?”

My voice was a mixture of doubt and expectation.

Camille nodded without hesitation.

“Of course. If you don’t believe me, try it again.”

I took a breath and stood in front of the closed box.

And this time, I clearly imagined it.

There would be seeds inside.

When I opened the lid again a moment later, there was a small bag of white magnolia seeds sitting inside alongside the sack of fertilizer.

As if it had been there from the very beginning.

“No way…”

Gulp.

I swallowed dryly without realizing it.

For everything I imagined to actually appear in reality. Could there be anything more magical than this?

“But it’s not all-powerful. My ability has its limits, too.”

Limits?

“Let’s see… Ah, yes.”

Saying that, Camille closed the box once again and asked me,

“Imagine that there’s a living whale inside this box. How about it?”

“What?”

“Can you imagine it? A whale inside this.”

“No. It’s way too small to begin with.”

Maybe if it were a doll shaped like one.

But there was no way a real whale could fit inside.

I firmly shook my head.

“Right?”

As though he had expected that answer, he asked back before dramatically throwing open the lid.

Inside was, astonishingly, a soft whale plushie.

“……”

Camille tossed the plushie into my arms and continued explaining.

“I only help turn your imagination into reality. So anything you believe, even unconsciously, is absolutely impossible cannot exist in this painting in the first place.”

“Ah…”

“Actually, it’s only natural. Because in the end, the owner of this painting isn’t me. It’s you, Orb.”

No way.

Then…

“Does that mean even when you suddenly made those fish-shaped pastries…”

“Correct. I didn’t even know what they were in the first place. But they were delicious. Sweet, too.”

It felt almost like discovering that the secret sauce at a famous restaurant was actually something bought off the shelf.

‘Give me back my emotional moment!’

When I was too shocked to continue speaking, Camille burst out laughing.

His playful smile scattered fresh and bright beneath the dappled sunlight.

I was momentarily lost in the sight of him, and only came to my senses when I saw the hand suddenly extended in front of me.

“So, what about the newspaper?”

 

***

 

A short while later, he sat in a chair and slowly scanned through the newspaper.

[Charity Exhibition for Relief Efforts Ends in Great Success!]

— Ortega Family Breaks Highest Bid Record Once Again… Unexpected Figure Draws Attention

The charity exhibition for relief efforts, which had been announced to take place this month, came to a successful close on O-day at the capital’s exhibition hall. The organizers stated that “many of the exhibited works received early bids and attracted considerable attention,” adding that all proceeds from the sales would be donated to relief efforts for the slums and support for the local community.

Beneath the enormous article printed across the newspaper’s front page was the following additional information.

In particular, the highest bid record was once again broken by the Ortega family at this exhibition, drawing considerable attention.

The successful bidder for the work was Claude Ortega, known to be the younger brother of the late Duke Camille Ortega. Since this event marked his official debut in high society, he drew considerable attention from the public.

Some attendees expressed concern over the Ortega family’s repeated sponsorship efforts centered around their family each year, with some pointing out that, contrary to the spirit of charity, it could be perceived as excessive competition over donations.

“Hmm…”

As Camille read through the newspaper, a faint crease formed between his brows. At the end of his gaze were three clearly visible red circles.

“So there are three people?”

As though I had been waiting for him to ask, I nodded.

Gail, Pagoda, and Densum.

The red circles drawn over the photographs, which looked as though they had been taken by paparazzi by chance, were unmistakably like a hit list. They even resembled a killer’s warning, marking his next targets.

And that killer was none other than me.

‘Stop wavering, Orb. It’s already too late to turn back.’

I couldn’t escape the revulsion that surged up inside me. When I took a deep breath, Camille studied my face with interest, as though he hadn’t expected it.

“I was secretly worried you’d suddenly ask whether we could cancel the contract…”

Then the corners of his eyes curved into a beautiful arc.

“Looks like you’ve already decided, huh? Who to kill first.”

I didn’t bother responding to the word kill and instead pointed out one person, as if changing the subject.

“Gail Pistachio. I think he’s the most suspicious.”

“His name sounds delicious. Why?”

After a brief hesitation, I finally parted my lips.

“…There was a tip.”

“A tip?”

Leaving Camille blinking as he waited for my answer, I turned my gaze into the distance.

Inside the carriage heading back to the estate after the auction.

Romain had said something strange to me.

“Do you happen to know who that gray-haired young master who was staring so intently earlier was?”

“You mean the young Count Pistachio? Yes. Why?”

Words that might, perhaps, become an important clue to what I was about to do.

“I think… I saw him at the banquet.”