When Pride Falls at Your Feet (19 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 15
It was a brief remark, yet it brimmed with arrogant intent—to entertain him. His obsession with dance shone through so intensely it rendered all her prior worries meaningless.
“…Yes.”
Though her sudden shift in demeanor was startling, it raised no suspicion. Emilia calmly stepped back—once, twice—then swiftly turned around.
As he had said, she had come here to dance, so she resolved to finish her task quickly and leave.
She merely tucked deep in her heart the thought that he seemed even more unhinged than she had imagined.
Moments later, Emilia stepped into the center of the stage, signaling the beginning. Enrico set down the wine glass he’d been holding and gestured toward the butler waiting behind him.
Gentle music began to fill the viewing room. It was one of the pieces he had preloaded onto the phonograph. Normally, he would have brought along a pianist for a flawless performance, but given his temperament—no one could fully satisfy him—it had become his only option.
With a soft *tap*, her toe shoes touched the wooden floor, and Emilia’s body moved gracefully.
‘The phonograph sounds richer than before.’
It still fell short of a live orchestra, but it was quite satisfactory nonetheless.
Due to his numerous investments, he received many cutting-edge inventions as a priority, but the phonograph stood out—it functioned better than others’ because Enrico possessed the sole remaining fragment of ancient magical material.
In this era of advancing science, calling it “magic” was almost embarrassing; it merely stored multiple songs and amplified sound. Yet, as the kingdom’s last remnant of ancient magic, it held considerable value.
‘I can keep using it as is.’
He lazily crossed his legs and leaned back comfortably against the chair. He’d intended to consider hiring a pianist if today’s performance disappointed him, but he was pleased from the very start.
Occasionally, patrons who rented small theaters externally would bring their own musicians for private enjoyment, but those performers had never been deemed worthy of entering this estate.
If he’d been forced to invite such people because of this stage, it would have been deeply unpleasant.
‘Indeed, not a bad choice after all.’
His formerly haughty, imposing eyes softened like they were melting away. Emilia Este—the only one whose worth he acknowledged—danced as beautifully as on their first meeting, proving his refined taste had not erred.
It was a *pas de deux* section meant for two dancers, yet Emilia filled her partner’s absence so seamlessly it went entirely unnoticed. Her natural acting and fluid, swimming-like grace sufficed to command the entire stage alone.
The wary trembling from moments ago had vanished completely; now, she even smiled sweetly.
The lazy smile lingering on his lips slowly faded. Like the male lead of *[La Sylphide]*, utterly enchanted by a fairy, his gaze never left her for a second.
His mind, once busy evaluating, and his fingers, which had been tapping the armrest in rhythm, both stilled without notice.
Her blazing passion, like a phoenix in flight, gradually warmed the surrounding air. Beads of sweat rolled down her flushed cheeks and plopped softly onto the floor.
[This is the timeline separator]Last night, she’d had a dream—of walking through the garden with her parents, laughing lightly as she danced in a moment from the past. Their affectionate, approving gazes had felt so sweet she never wanted to wake up.
“…I miss you.”
Emilia slowly opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Her half-awake eyes still held a dreamy, hazy daze.
She raised one arm over her eyes. She wished to savor the dream, to trace the memory—but as soon as she opened her eyes, only a faint impression remained.
‘Should I ask for the bed to be warmed?’
Desperate to preserve that feeling, she was startled by a sudden recollection of yesterday and bolted upright.
She stepped down from the bed and slipped her feet into soft slippers. The fireplace, which had burned fiercely all night, now held only faint embers after dawn broke.
She walked slowly toward the window. Pulling back the green curtains, she saw white snow still falling steadily—just as it had last night on her way back. The weather, calm when she entered the duke’s mansion, had abruptly shifted into a blizzard as soon as she’d tried to return home.
As she moved to sit in the chair beside the window, her eyes fell on a vase adorning the previously empty table.
Zabeta must have arranged the lavish bouquet Enrico gave her last night. Looking closer, the room now exhaled a distinctly springlike fragrance—utterly unlike the cold outside—and strangely reminiscent of Enrico himself from yesterday.
‘What an utterly unpredictable man…’
After her short performance last night, Enrico had remained silent for a long while—only staring intently as she caught her breath and rose from exhaustion. Just as she’d hesitated—wondering whether to slip offstage or stay—he’d casually spoken.
‘Just keep doing exactly this.’
Perhaps it was because he sat in the dimness, away from the stage lights, but his eyes seemed to gleam.
‘Then you’ll gain even more from me.’
Yes—he’d seemed immensely pleased. The smile curving his lips, as if everything delighted him, looked oddly wicked.
Soon, Enrico reached behind him. On cue, a servant appeared with an enormous bouquet. Enrico took it in one hand, rose from his seat, and strode toward the stage.
‘Celebrate the beginning of my stage.’
Standing right before the stage, he tilted his chin slightly upward, beckoning her down. Emilia hesitated—she had always been the one looking up at him—yet slowly closed the distance. Carefully bending her knees, she reached out. Instantly, the scent of flowers flooded her senses.
‘It’s your first day—we should mark the occasion. I’ll await you in the banquet hall.’
‘What? No—it’s fine. I must leave early tomorrow morning, so I’ll just—’
‘Emilia.’
Her shoulders flinched. Hearing her name from his lips for the first time sent a sweet, shivering chill through her, jarring yet strangely intimate. He lazily brushed his own throat and slowly turned his head.
‘Right now, I’m in an exceptionally good mood.’
‘…’
‘So I’ll tell you just once.’
‘…Yes.’
‘Never attempt to defy me. No matter what.’
His commanding presence left her no choice but to nod. Pride stung, humiliation burned—but this contract had always clearly designated master and servant. She couldn’t waste the sole chance she’d barely secured through pointless resistance.
At her slight nod, his eyes—cold just moments before—softened instantly.
As if praising her obedience, he gently nudged her small hand, which had begun to droop under the weight of the bouquet, lifting it slightly—as though to say, *Take care of what’s yours.*
‘I’ll just leave it in the parlor.’
She’d never disliked flowers, yet seeing the bouquet he’d given her this morning soured her mood immediately. Her plan to head straight home after the performance had dissolved because he insisted on treating her to a hearty meal post-shower—and with the relentless snowfall, her return home had been significantly delayed.
Now, as if refusing to dwell on yesterday any longer, Emilia briskly shook her hands and began stretching her entire body. Gradually, warmth returned to her limbs, thawing the stiffness from the chill.
“I wish time would pass faster….”
Emilia’s faint murmur drifted briefly into the empty air.
[This is the timeline separator]Daily life gradually settled into routine—waking in an unfamiliar house, exchanging greetings with Zabeta who waited for her each morning, and preparing for her second solo performance at Enrico’s estate.
Ever since the recent blizzard, the weather had remained bright and clear. Though she knew it could turn at any moment, Emilia headed to the ballet company again today, reassured by the continued calm. She instructed the carriage to stop a distance from the theater and walked slowly toward the left side, where the emergency stairs—not the main entrance—led inside.
“Lady Este?”
That was a title she shouldn’t hear here. Emilia, who had been keeping her head down to escape the cold, lifted her gaze straight ahead.
“Oh…”
An unexpected figure stood before her—a strikingly handsome man with silver hair that seemed to hold moonlight and violet eyes far brighter than Enrico’s, smiling warmly.
Emilia halted mid-step, then belatedly dipped into a slight curtsy.
“Your Royal Highness, Crown Prince.”
Alessandro Treano—the kingdom’s heir apparent. He quickly closed the distance and gently took her arm, urging her to rise.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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