My Husband Lives Inside a Painting – Chapter 25

Author: isuzuuy

“Are you playing favorites with your master or what?”

A sudden feeling of disappointment made him pout, but the flowers remained stubbornly silent.

With a sulky expression, Camille returned to the cottage and sat leaning against the bench in front of it, crossing his legs as he gazed at the distant mountains.

“……I’m bored.”

The tail that had appeared for the first time today struck the bench with a tap, tap, as though reflecting Camille’s restless state of mind.

There was no clock inside the painting, so until she returned, he would have to endure another indefinite wait.

‘I’m no different from a dog waiting for its master.’

He was in no position to laugh at the flowers for their plight. Without her, he was just as incapable of doing anything.

“Come to think of it, why am I trapped here in the first place?”

It wasn’t a lie that he had absolutely no memory of the time when he became trapped inside the painting.

He instinctively knew that he was a demon and that he needed Orb’s soul to escape, but aside from that, he was no different from a newborn child.

“……Well, I’ll naturally find out once I recover all my power.”

Under the absolute power of the contract, time would eventually be on his side.

“Come to think of it, my wife needs to hurry up and bring me my next plaything.”

Once again, he was very glad that this suited his temperament so well.

***

Claude, who had been temporarily brought in to fill the void left by Ortega, had managed to regain a modest semblance of his daily routine in the bleak mansion.

Getting up at dawn, climbing the mountain behind the estate, and after coming down and washing himself, drinking a cup of freshly brewed strong coffee.

It was the routine he had always followed in the western territory.

“Lord, may I come in? Are you finished washing?”

“Yeah. Come in.”

“Wow, you really are diligent. Ever since I came here, I haven’t had any farm work to do, so I feel like I’ve been getting up later and later.”

“Hope. That’s because you’re lazy.”

“Ouch! You hit me right where it hurts! How cruel.”

The two had met at around the same age and grown up together, so they worked together as smoothly as an old married couple.

The servants of the ducal residence occasionally called Hope rude, but neither of them paid any attention.

“No matter how lazy I am, I never forgot my master’s request. Here, the newspaper.”

“I think I need to change your position from aide to newspaper deliveryman.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad, as long as I keep the same salary.”

Claude gave a small chuckle at the silly joke before turning his attention to the newspaper he had been handed.

Then, after a while, as he flipped through the pages, a small article caught his eye.

[Pistachio Merchant Guild’s Eldest Son Missing, Reward of Up to 10,000 Gold Offered]

—Investigation Bureau launches inquiry; possible connection to recent allegations of misappropriation of charitable supplies draws attention

Young Count Gail Pistachio, eldest son of the Pistachio Merchant Guild and its de facto manager, has suddenly disappeared. According to those close to him, he vanished without a trace after the night of O day, and no meaningful clues have been discovered so far. Some have raised the possibility that he fled due to the recently reported allegations of embezzling goods intended for delivery…… [Continued]

It was the sort of missing-person article that usually occupied a corner of the newspaper. But the familiar name made Claude narrow his eyes.

‘Pistachio…… Where have I heard that before?’

Hope, who had been standing behind the desk with his hands clasped behind his back, peeked his head forward and let out a gasp.

“Isn’t that the man? The one Mrs. Orb Ortega sent a gift to a little while ago……”

“What?”

Claude unconsciously furrowed his brow before turning his attention back to the article.

The man to whom Orb Ortega had given a painting a week ago.

He had gone missing?

“A coincidence…… right?”

“……”

There was no connection between the painting and the disappearance. Even so, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling lingering in his mind.

“Is that woman in the studio again today?”

Claude came downstairs to meet Orb Ortega, but suddenly stopped in his tracks.

‘Did someone come?’

The studio door, which was always closed, was open. A chattering voice drifted through the gap.

“Big sister, can’t you draw me, too?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’d like my drawings.”

“Then I’ll draw you! I’m really good at drawing, too. My sister always praises me.”

“Really?”

The warm-sounding conversation grew closer to the doorway, and Orb Ortega emerged from the studio holding the hand of a young boy.

“Claude?”

The eyes that met him widened in surprise.

But Claude was just as surprised.

A child?

“……”

“Big sister, who’s that man?”

The presence of an innocent soul had a way of softening the atmosphere simply by being there.

As soon as the awkward silence was broken, Claude turned around without a word.

He had nothing to say, nor any reason to stay any longer.

“What? He didn’t even say hello. Is that guy always like that?”

“Johenn, shh. You shouldn’t say that in front of him.”

“Then can I badmouth him behind his back?”

“Johenn!”

“……”

How long had it been since someone had criticized him so openly?

His steps stopped of their own accord.

Claude unconsciously turned around and found himself meeting a pair of clear, guileless eyes. For a moment, all his strength left him, leaving him feeling utterly deflated.

That must have been why he said it.

“……Mrs. Ortega.”

“Yes?”

She looked at him with round, questioning eyes, and Claude forced himself to use a level of politeness he had never used in his life.

“Would you…… care to have a cup of tea with me?”

***

After leaving Johenn with Romaine for a while, Claude and I had tea in my room.

Although he had been the one to suggest it, Claude seemed completely at a loss over the unexpected meeting.

“……”

Clink, clink.

Resting his chin on one hand, he listlessly rattled his teaspoon. At a glance, it was obvious that he was a man who had little to do with high society.

‘All right. I’m the older one, so I’ll take the lead.’

I wasn’t exactly the most sociable person either, but surely I was better at it than this man.

“……Come to think of it, you called me Mrs. Orb Ortega.”

The golden eyes that had been quietly staring at the surface of the teacup slowly lifted.

“But isn’t that title a little awkward? We’re family, after all.”

“Then what should I call you?”

It was a trivial subject, but at least I had succeeded in getting him to respond. That alone was fortunate.

“There’s a perfectly good term: sister-in-law.”

“Sister-in-law?”

Claude narrowed his brow, clearly displeased with my suggestion.

Perhaps the title itself had fallen out of use in this world.

“I don’t like it.”