My Husband Lives Inside a Painting Chapter 5

Ah, and by the way, Camille was an excellent cook.

“I want something made with potatoes.”

“Sure. I was craving that, too.”

“I’m in the mood for spaghetti today.”

“Easy. Just wait a moment.”

“Camille. Do you know what bungeoppang is?”

There wasn’t even a kitchen in the tiny house, but no matter what I asked for, Camille would have an impressive dish prepared within minutes.

“This is it, right? Bungeoppang.”

“……Yes.”

And it was exactly the same shape as the one I had imagined in my head.

“How on earth do you know about bungeoppang?”

I had singled out bungeoppang as an example, but this wasn’t the first or second time I’d wondered about things like that.

Yet whenever I asked a similar question, Camille always gave me the same answer.

“Does it really matter?”

And before I knew it, I found myself agreeing with him.

‘He’s right! What matters is that he’s alive like this.’

I was sitting on a bench beneath the shade of a tree near the house, tearing pieces off the head of a bungeoppang and enjoying the peaceful scenery, when Camille suddenly approached and gently wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Is it good?”

My body seemed to stiffen at the unfamiliar physical contact.

“……Where did you go?”

“To the lake up ahead.”

I felt uncomfortable.

I gently pushed his hands away and changed the subject.

“I was just thinking about going to the lake myself…… How was it?”

I had tried hard to act casual, but the perceptive Camille didn’t answer. He simply stared at me.

Just as I began to feel slightly tense under his gaze, he smiled as though nothing had happened.

“There wasn’t much to see. Besides, I much prefer being by your side.”

“……Really?”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, there’s something I want to do with you.”

“What is it?”

Camille’s hand came toward me frighteningly fast, hooking beneath my chin and lifting my face.

“This.”

A cold shiver crawled up my spine like a snake. The moment his face drew close—

My hand moved first.

Smack—

“……Ah.”

Only afterward did I realize what I had done.

‘W-Why did I push Camille away?’

He was my husband, wasn’t he? The man I loved more than anything, the reason for my life?

As though I had committed some terrible mistake, an inexplicable sense of guilt washed over me belatedly.

Unable to bring myself to look at his face, I opened my mouth.

“You’ve changed a little.”

And as though making an excuse, I added,

“You weren’t like this before…….”

A brief silence followed.

It was Camille who broke it.

“I suppose anyone would change after living in a place like this. Being alone in this painting without you…… was terribly lonely.”

“…….”

His words subtly tugged at my guilt, and my shoulders instinctively shrank.

“Still, kissing is a little…….”

“Why?”

“Why? Because…… we never even did that in the first place.”

But why was I explaining this to him?

There was no way he didn’t know that I disliked physical affection, and that was why I had always kept my distance from Camille.

A strange sense of incongruity ran down my spine.

At times like this, Camille felt like an entirely different person.

“……Oh. Was that so?”

Yes. Just like now.

Camille rolled his eyes as though deep in thought.

“For a married couple, did we really not even consummate the marriage……?”

“What are you mumbling about?”

“Hmm? Nothing.”

He had already returned to his usual expression. With a bright smile, he casually sat down right beside me.

A little while later, when my heartbeat had returned to normal, I spoke to him again.

“More importantly, tell me about yourself today.”

“About me?”

“How long have you been inside this painting?”

Camille’s eyes widened as though he had never expected me to ask such a question.

But an answer came almost immediately.

“At some point, I felt as though my soul was floating around before gradually beginning to scatter. While I was searching for somewhere to take shelter, I saw your painting. The moment I touched it, I lost consciousness.”

“Ah…….”

“And when I opened my eyes again, I was already inside.”

I hadn’t expected him to tell me the truth. But what he was saying didn’t sound like a lie, either.

“But there wasn’t such a vast flower field when you first came here.”

Camille continued speaking calmly.

“You kept filling in the blank spaces, one by one.”

“What?”

There was something strangely unsettling about those words.

“Filling them in? Wait. Does that mean…….”

I stammered on, my mouth hanging open.

“Y-You were watching me paint the whole time?”

“Yeah. You certainly had quite a pace when it came to emptying those bottles of wine.”

“Ah……!”

Oh, my God! I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

The moment it truly sank in that he had witnessed me crying so miserably, shame rushed over me until my face burned.

I whipped around and grabbed my hair.

Just as the emotions that had consumed me alone began to settle down, Camille suddenly spoke.

“Oh, since we’re on the subject, there’s somewhere I want you to go with me.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. There’s something I need you to help me with.”

A quiet light filled his eyes. His gaze seemed to say that refusing had never even been an option.

“Orb, you’re the only one who can do it.”

In that fleeting moment, an indescribable sense of foreboding engulfed my entire body.

Even so, I couldn’t refuse him.

 

***

 

He led me to the place beneath the hill, the very spot where I had first fallen into this place.

A single canvas covered with a white cloth lay there all alone.

It looked strangely out of place in the middle of a field without even a breath of wind.

‘……Was this here before?’

The brief question had barely crossed my mind when Camille abruptly pulled off the cover, revealing the scene on the canvas all at once.

“This is…….”

The studio in the mansion where I used to paint.

And standing in the center with a bewildered expression was none other than—

“……Romaine?”

She was the maid from my mansion.

A moment later, Romaine’s eyes trembled faintly, and the sight of her taking one step after another vividly appeared across the canvas.

At the same time, I heard a voice.

“My lady…… Where on earth did you go?”

“……!”

It was as though two worlds coexisted with nothing but a single canvas between them.

“You know her?”

“She’s my maid. But what in the world is this…….”

Unable to finish my sentence, I moved closer to the canvas.

I could clearly see the brushstrokes and the texture of the paint.

But just as I wondered how this could possibly have happened, Camille calmly continued explaining.

“This canvas is a passage connecting this place to reality. It’s also the entrance you and I came through.”

“An entrance……?”

“Yeah. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.”

I hesitated for a moment before cautiously reaching my hand toward the canvas.

But the instant my fingertips touched its surface, my entire arm was swallowed into the painting as though being sucked into a vacuum.

“Eek!”

I yanked my hand back in fright, and Camille casually said,

“Be careful. You could actually get sucked inside.”

I looked down at my palm, and the strange sensation still lingered in my hand.

“D-Does the same thing happen to you?”

“Me?”

Was it my imagination, or was there a hint of mockery in Camille’s questioning voice?

“I…… don’t. It’ll be faster if you see for yourself.”

Camille placed his hand on the canvas exactly as I had.

But at that moment—

Ping!

With a sharp sound, his hand was repelled backward as though it had hit an invisible barrier.

Startled, I instinctively raised my voice.

“Camille!”

“I’m fine. But…… you saw it, right?”

Camille casually shook his hand before turning his gaze toward me.

“Orb. I can’t leave this place. I’m trapped inside your painting.”

The moment I swallowed, my heart sank.

“What did you say?”

My mind went blank at his unexpected words.

When I first saw him, I had been overwhelmed simply by the fact that I could see him alive again.

Perhaps, just as he said, my desperate longing for him really had brought him back here.

‘But if he really can’t leave my painting…….’

Then that meant…… he wasn’t truly alive, even if he was living.

“Orb. That’s why…….”

Camille quietly placed his hands on my shoulders.

“Will you help me get out of this painting?”

His voice dropped lower.

“It’s not too late yet. Because you’re the only one who can help me.”

For a fleeting moment, raw desire flickered fiercely in Camille’s eyes.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine like a snake, and a suppressed tremble slipped between my lips.

“How could I……?”

“It’s easy.”

Camille grinned.

“You just have to give me your soul, Orb.”