My Husband Lives Inside a Painting Chapter 23

“He said I had amnesia. According to my mother, I fell out of a tree when I was ten.”

“……Out of a tree?”

That was hard to believe.

Camille, who didn’t seem particularly fond of outdoor activities, had been a mischievous boy who climbed trees as a child?

“So perhaps I had a proper hobby before I lost my memories. But now…… I’m not sure.”

For once, Camille looked uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much that he disliked the subject as that he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Just as I hurriedly tried to change the subject, he spoke first.

“No. You’re right, my lady. I think I’m a rather boring person myself.”

“…….”

“But it’s not as though I’m always well-behaved. Sometimes, I have wicked thoughts, too.”

“Wicked thoughts?”

“Would you like an example?”

“……Ah.”

The moment I nodded without thinking, the distance between us suddenly shrank.

I realized it too late.

That single step of distance he had always maintained between us—it could disappear at any moment.

“C-Camille.”

Having crossed that boundary, which had been little more than a formality, he gently gathered my hair in his hand.

“Sometimes, I imagine something.”

“…….”

“If I were to kiss you someday, when even the slightest touch makes your body stiffen……”

The moment his lips lightly settled on my hair, I swallowed dryly and struggled to steady my uneven breathing.

“I wonder what kind of expression you would make, my lady.”

Our gazes became entangled.

And in that instant, Camille seemed to realize that what shimmered in my eyes was not merely nervousness.

We were close enough that our lips would touch if we moved just a little closer.

……But his touch, which had approached like a spring breeze, stopped before it could cross that final line.

“I’m not some angel of Ortega, praised by everyone, my lady.”

As the corners of his eyes curved into a beautiful smile, my face grew as red as a tomato.

 

***

 

Mornings at Ortega begin early.

You know how, in some old, established families, everyone gets up at dawn because the head of the household rises at five in the morning?

Our household was no different. Since Belladonna woke early, mornings at Ortega naturally began earlier, too.

‘After repeating this routine for a whole year, I’ve gotten quite used to it.’

The saying that a position makes the person was certainly true.

Just then, Romaine, who was gathering my light brown hair into an elegant updo to suit the pleasant weather, asked me without pausing her hands,

“My lady, you look like you’re in good spirits today.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. You must have had a lovely dream!”

Her casual remark was sharper than I expected.

In fact, for the first time in a long while, I had spent the entire night dreaming of Camille.

‘If you dream about someone who’s dead, shouldn’t you normally have trouble sleeping? And yet I slept so soundly.’

Could I really say he wasn’t an angel, even so?

Meanwhile, I had grown quite accustomed to being cared for by Romaine.

With my hair neatly twisted into a bun and a dress in a subdued color, I rose from the dressing table.

“Are you going to the studio again today?”

“Ah. Yes. But before that……”

My hand, which had been rummaging through a drawer, suddenly stopped. I couldn’t find what I had tucked away at the very back.

“Romaine. The red ribbon that was in here……”

“Yes?”

“Ah, never mind.”

Only then did I remember that I had ordered Romaine to remove every trace of him from my room.

‘Why did I do that?’

With a heavy heart, I pressed my lips together and closed the drawer.

But at the time, I had no choice. Right after the funeral, I hadn’t been in my right mind.

Still……

“…….”

Leaving my regret behind, I stepped out of my room and headed straight for the studio in the annex.

“Romaine. You know what to do today, right?”

“Yes! I’ll make absolutely sure no one gets inside!”

“Thank you. As always.”

Romaine clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. She was more reassuring than any knight.

Click—

I closed the door, removed the white cloth covering the canvas, and carefully placed my hand against it.

When I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again, the familiar flower garden spread vividly across my entire field of vision.

‘Where is Camille?’

I climbed the hill, feeling the pleasant breeze, and soon a small cottage came into view.

Then Camille, who had been waiting for me beyond the window frame, waved with a bright smile.

“Orb!”

His face looked smooth and healthy when I saw him for the first time in three days, and I felt inexplicably relieved.

“Did you meet Gail safely?”

“Mm-hmm. Thanks to the bait you laid out so well, I met him without any trouble.”

Camille rested his chin on the window frame and smiled brightly.

“Ahhh, it was wonderful.”

“Pardon?”

“Hehe, it’s nothing.”

Camille’s cheeks flushed faintly, as though he were in a state of bliss.

……I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.

When I entered the cottage, the black tea Camille had prepared in advance was steaming gently.

I sat in the chair opposite him and sipped my tea as I went over what had happened.

“First of all, I’m glad the plan went as expected.”

“It happened even faster than I anticipated. It took about two weeks, I think?”

“He was already the sort of person who readily believed in things that defied reason.”

Over the past ten days, I had led Gail to believe that the painting possessed some mysterious power.

I had not only brought the conflict between Clodel Merchant Guild and the natives of Southern Island to the surface, but also made sure Gail heard the news that Cashew’s fleet had run aground before anyone else.

All of it had reached Gail disguised as good fortune.

“But I doubt that alone would have been enough to make him so obsessed with the painting. There must have been some other trigger.”

“Well, what else could it have been? Something that stirred up his competitive streak, I imagine.”

“He did have a younger brother. That might explain it.”

“Anyway, it’s my turn now.”

Camille then told me what had happened between him and Gail.

After listening to the entire story, I couldn’t hide the troubled expression on my face.

“……So he really was carrying out illegal adoptions. And to think Marquess Buthier was involved, too.”

“We’ll probably find out where Anne-Marie is if we investigate Pagoda.”

“We have to rescue her before it’s too late……”

My voice trailed off as I cautiously studied Camille’s expression.

Actually, what shocked me had less to do with the illegal adoptions and more to do with something else.

‘Gail wasn’t the culprit?’

This was how Camille had explained what happened.

On my husband’s birthday, Gail had argued with him and tried to strike him on the back of the head with a porcelain vase. But Marquess Buthier had suddenly appeared and stopped him, leaving the attempt unfinished.

‘But is that really true?’

Even the fact that my next target had been decided so naturally made me uneasy.

‘How far can I trust this man?’

My gaze naturally drifted toward the door behind Camille.

The door leading to another painting. Unlike the last time I had seen it, its handle was now tightly wrapped in chains.

Why had he needed to seal it off?

There was no one here but the two of us.

“What are you thinking about so hard, Orb?”

“……I was wondering what kind of painting I should make for Pagoda.”

“Ah, so that’s the problem.”

Perhaps remembering how I had struggled when inspiration failed me, Camille smoothly changed the subject.

“At times like this, it’s important to understand the customer’s desires precisely. Hmm……”

“Pagoda likes women, doesn’t he? What if I painted a whole bunch of beautiful women?”

“Well, if he’s the sort of man who would actually buy women, wouldn’t he much prefer the real thing to a painting?”

“Ah. That’s true.”

‘I should have found out what his ideal type was beforehand.’

There was no way I would know the tastes of such a scumbag.

“Or perhaps you could just ask him directly?”

“Ah, you said there’s a banquet coming up soon. Will that man be there, too?”

“Probably. And you’re right. It would certainly be better to take action than just talk about him behind his back—”

“…….”

“……How long have you been looking at me like that?”

Camille was leaning against the window frame, gazing quietly at me.