The Face That Wasn't His
……What?
The moment my expression wavered and faded, Camille tightened his grip on my shoulder, urging me on.
"All I need is a little more power. Just one human's worth, precisely."
"……"
"You don't intend to leave me trapped in this painting forever, do you? It's certainly beautiful here. But I want to go outside."
"……I understand that. But, Camille."
"Or do you not love me anymore? Don't tell me you've found another man?"
Even if it was nothing more than a passing jab, that one thing I could not forgive.
A cry close to a scream burst out of me.
"There's no way that could happen!"
"Then why are you hesitating?"
His tone bored into me relentlessly, like an interrogation.
"Unless you plan to keep me imprisoned here and torment me, you have no reason to refuse."
"Torment you……?"
Had Camille always been like this? My mind tangled itself in a dizzying knot.
And then, quite suddenly, I found myself asking my own question.
Aub, what do you think you're doing?
This was my chance to bring Camille back to life for real!
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that might never come again.
So obviously you should do exactly as he says—unless you really have found another man.
And yet…… I didn't know.
The thought that something was wrong refused to leave my head.
Ever since the moment I'd first faced him, that warning bell had been ringing—and now it tolled so loudly I could no longer ignore it.
"……I-if. If I gave you my soul."
Breaking through the silence, I finally pried my unmoving lips apart.
The words came out as if squeezed from a stone.
"What would become of me……?"
Our eyes met.
From a distance so close his breath brushed my skin, his pupils looked strange—unnaturally murky. As if they didn't belong to a human being at all.
And in that moment,
"Nothing at all."
A tender voice rang out, soft and quiet.
"Nothing will change."
A bewitching smile playing at the corners of his eyes.
……Ah.
Only then did I understand.
The being before me was not Camille.
"……I-I'm sorry."
Thud. Thud. My heart lurched wildly.
"C-could we talk about this again later?"
Who on earth was this man? He resembled Camille so closely—and if he wasn't Camille, then who could he possibly be?
But stronger than any question was the sharp, overwhelming instinct that I had to get out of here. The canvas. Through there.
"I still have things left unfinished in the real world. I need to step out for just a moment."
"Wait, Aub."
"So if we could just pick this up next—"
The arm I'd reached toward the canvas was seized firmly out of the air.
Pressure traveled down through the bones of my arm, and with it came a crystal-clear realization.
He—Camille—never held me this roughly. Never, not with such force, such violence.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The man looked down at me with sharply narrowed eyes, all trace of tenderness gone from his face.
A thin shiver ran down my spine.
"Surely you weren't about to leave me here and go off alone. Now of all times?"
I instinctively stumbled backward, and the hand that refused to release me pulled taut.
Camille—no, the man wearing his shell—bore into me with an utterly motionless gaze.
"Why that expression, hm?"
"……"
"How strange……"
A low murmur spilled out.
His voice was still gentle, and yet my breath caught in my throat for no reason I could name. An inexplicable unease crept up over my skin like something crawling.
As if the man standing before me was not the one I knew.
"I didn't want it to come to this. But you leave me no choice."
"What? W-wait—"
In that instant, Camille snapped his fingers.
Clink—
At the same time the background folded up like a sheet of paper, and my vision warped in the blink of an eye. I'd blinked once—and somehow I was already inside the house.
"Aagh!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Camille shoved me against the wall.
The impact rang out, and the kitchenware hanging there collided in a clattering chorus. But whether I gasped or groaned, he didn't so much as blink—just kept pressing me there.
"I never thought you'd betray me like this. What on earth dissatisfied you?"
"C-Camille."
An ominous light flickered in his eyes.
"I gave you everything you wanted. Or were you just playing with me?"
"Let go of me!"
"No."
"……!"
The warm air of the house froze over in an instant, cold as midwinter—because of the naked killing intent radiating from behind him.
I was terrified. So terrified my body wouldn't move as I willed it.
I'm going to die like this!
The moment the certainty struck me that no words could reach him anymore, I frantically groped behind my back with one hand. Something met my fingers.
"I don't like forcing you, either. So I'll say it one more time."
"……"
A heavy, blunt handle. Squarish in shape, its surface rough with bumps.
"Giving me your soul is easier than you'd think, you know. It doesn't even hurt. It'll be over in the blink of an eye."
"……"
"If you want, I can even let you dream of living with me for the rest of your days. No—consider it done."
The cold touch of metal came through clearly against my palm.
……This is it.
"You're my first contractor, so this is me being generous. Well? Pretty good deal, isn't it?"
Camille seemed not to have noticed me fumbling around behind his back.
Gripping the handle tight, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Aub? Why are you so qui—"
"Sh-shut up!"
And I swung.
The instant the bungeoppang mold crashed into his skull with a resounding clang—!
"Ugh……!"
With a short cry, his body crumpled and dropped.
Thud. A dull sound shook the floor.
"Hahh… hahh……"
……Was it over?
I slowly lifted my eyelids.
Pink hair splayed across the floor, and a body lying utterly still, as if frozen solid.
"C-Camille."
Good heavens. What had I done?
I dropped to my knees in a hurry and shook him. Camille didn't react at all.
Carefully, with a trembling hand, I reached toward the tip of his nose.
In the same instant I recoiled in horror and toppled backward.
He's…… not breathing.
My thoughts flatlined, my mind flashing white.
* * *
Fortunately, when I checked again, Camille was breathing—faintly, but breathing all the same.
I let out a sigh of relief, then abruptly reconsidered.
……Ah, right. That's not Camille.
As soon as I corrected the man's identity in my mind, it was as if reason cooled my head again.
First things first: with no telling when he might open his eyes, I needed to keep him restrained. I began rummaging through the house.
Rope in hand, I dragged him out to the front yard and set about binding him. Only after I'd tied both arms behind his back and lashed his legs together did the tension finally drain out of me, and I could breathe again.
"Whew……"
Wiping the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, I crouched down in front of the man, who lay on his side like an enormous caterpillar.
Then I poked the cheek of the angel-faced man slumbering so peacefully.
This isn't Camille? Really?
No matter how many times I looked, I couldn't believe it. The lashes longer than any woman's, the porcelain-pale skin, even the teardrop mole beneath his left eye—all of it was my husband's.
But he was not Camille. Then what on earth was he?
"……No idea."
Strangely enough, my head had cleared the moment I'd started tying him up. Until just now, it had felt as if my thoughts were trapped in a soft, dissolving fog.
I was completely bewitched by this man until a minute ago. That much is certain.
"Don't tell me he approached me pretending to be Camille on purpose?"
If that were really true, what an outrageous thing to do. Of all people to imitate—him, of all people!
So what do I do with this guy?
Just as my stomach was churning with fury, his brow furrowed and his eyes slowly opened.
"Mmgh……"
"Are you back with us?"
"Where…… ah. Ugh, my head."
I must have hit him harder than I'd thought, because even with his eyes open he stayed dazed for a while. Then he registered his tightly bound body and let out a flustered breath.
"……Um. So, Aub."
"Yes. Go ahead."
"Did you, by any chance, tie me up?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
An awkward laugh drifted into the silence.
Studying my firmly sealed lips, he seemed to finally arrive at a single hypothesis.
"Don't tell me—this was your kink all along?"
It was a perfectly, completely wrong deduction.