My Husband Hates Me, But He Lost His Memories Chapter 43.1

Chapter 43 – Part 1

To be honest, I feel a bit out of my depth.

'I didn't know that so many people were going to attend… And that it's going to be such a large exhibition.'

My knowledge of the visual arts was only a little deeper than my knowledge of the literary arts. I'd hardly be able to keep up if I ever got into a conversation with experts.

So, I'm already starting to worry.

What if I get humiliated here?

…I shouldn't have come.

'Still though, I've been looking forward to seeing the paintings here. …I'll just avoid talking to people as much as possible.'

Sighing, I fixed my posture.

Straight back. Hands together and positioned over the navel. Chin only slightly raised. Austere expression.

Most of the people here were strangers to me. However, it's clear that they knew me anyway. People kept glancing over my way, exchanging whispers amongst themselves.

'…Indeed.'

Duchess Valentino. Daughter of the notorious Duke Everett.

Even if I never wanted to be one, I was practically a celebrity.

'Where is Missus Pinerze… I mean, George Rennier?'

When going to an unfamiliar place, the first thing to do was to find someone you knew.

So that I could break free from this spotlight, I began to set off in search of George Rennier.

But he was nowhere to be seen. Either he had yet to arrive, or he had gone away for a little while.

Thus, I had no choice but to admire the art pieces alone. It would have been nice if Charlotte could be here with me, but servants were required to stay at the lounge meant for them. They weren't allowed into the salon.

'Ah… Found it.'

I roamed around for quite a while alone, but I finally found it. It was the very reason I decided to attend this exhibition today.

It was the painting that I'd been wishing to see for the longest time.

I walked towards the painting slowly. My heart was pounding with anticipation.

When I was finally in front of the painting, I felt my hands—over my navel—clench slightly.

'…So this is its atmosphere.'

The painting was completely different compared to the imitation piece I had seen.

Looking at the original now, it's as if the artist had infused their own vitality into the work, making it seem like it was completely alive. That's the pulse I'm feeling now.

It's the first time in my life that I ever thought a painting could be 'alive'. And so, in an instant, I was pulled right in.

My surroundings went silent, and I could see nothing but this painting in front of me.

A lantern amidst darkness

That was the name of this piece.

In the middle of bleak darkness, where it looked like you wouldn't be able to see even an inch in front of you, there was a blurred silhouette right there, difficult to make out.

Through a gray, faded sleeve was a slender hand, which was holding a small lantern at the tip of its fingers.

And inside the lantern was a precarious flame, swaying dangerously in the wind.

It was only that small candle… Just that meager light, illuminating the darkness.

Losing track of time, I stood there blankly, admiring only the painting, A lantern amidst darkness .

It didn't occur to me at all to try and analyze the techniques used here. It's just—it's as if I had been pulled into the world beyond this painting, like I was standing inside it.

“hem.”

All of a sudden, I heard someone coughing. This dim echo pulled me out of my reverie.

With a frown, I glanced sideways.

Beside me was a tall young man who had distinct features.

And the first thing that passed through my mind as I saw him was this—that he was shining.

And I mean that somewhat literally. The young man had hair that shone like pure gold, and dark golden eyes that smoldered like honey. It's as if he had absorbed all the gold that existed in the world.

…I knew who he was, but I had never seen him this close.

While seeing him from afar, I already got the impression that this man had a burdensome air about him. But now that I was close to him, that was even more so the case.

He had exactly the same atmosphere as his younger sister, Rozenne Delacroix.

'Zenedier Delacroix.'

Or, 'Zen' Delacroix.

He was the heir to the renowned Delacroix Duchy, and he was commonly referred to as 'Young Duke Delacroix'.

Facing me with a smile on his lips, he bowed to me politely.

He regarded me with impeccably perfect etiquette, but the way he did it made it seem more playful than serious.

Perhaps it's because of how his eyes gleamed roguishly.

Rather than an heir to a prestigious noble household, he looked like a rebellious child who was only ever constantly looking for a chance to cause mischief.

Anyway, he greeted me first, so I wouldn't be able to ignore him.

In fact, I wanted to pass by him as if I hadn't seen him, but…

I formally greeted back.

“Good day, Young Duke Delacroix.”

“Duchess Valentino, fancy seeing you in a place like this.”

Chapter end