When Pride Falls at Your Feet (19 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 16
“Oh, weren’t we once on much friendlier terms than this stiff formality?”
“Back then, I was just a child. Thank you for understanding me, despite how impolite I must have seemed—even if belatedly.”
“It saddens me to hear such words after meeting again after so long. You were always so kind then—that idea of impoliteness is simply absurd.”
Alessandro replied warmly, as though the years they’d spent apart meant nothing at all. Taken aback by his easygoing manner, Emilia blinked once and lowered her eyes.
They’d only met once before she’d even turned ten. Her father had business in Desiro and brought her to the capital for the first time—where she happened to meet Alessandro by chance.
Even though she knew he was the crown prince, her young heart hadn’t felt intimidated; she’d simply smiled freely and spent time with him as comfortably as could be.
They met a few more times while she stayed in Desiro, but their connection naturally faded after Emilia returned to Bacorta.
Of course, he had visited the academy once—but she’d only seen him from afar. She’d heard he’d come as the kingdom’s representative to discuss some collaboration with the academy, but it was a memory soon forgotten.
“…I’m just grateful you remember me at all.”
“Hmm… Perhaps it’s been so long that I seem uncomfortable to you now. I recall we used to speak so casually back then.”
“Ah… Well, I was very young. I didn’t truly understand what was proper or not.”
Seeing Emilia slightly flustered and bow her head, Alessandro’s lips drooped faintly. After staying silent for a moment, as if regretting something, he carefully spoke again.
“Now that I think of it, I heard about Viscount Este and his wife. I’m sorry I couldn’t visit at the time.”
“No, your words alone mean a great deal to me.”
Alessandro stared quietly at Emilia, who kept her eyes lowered, then gave an awkward smile and glanced toward the theater building.
“May I ask why you’re here? And I’m also curious—do you live in Desiro these days?”
“Yes, I’m currently dancing with the Avallianté Opera Ballet and staying in Desiro.”
Emilia answered a beat late and looked up at Alessandro. He, who had been scanning the theater’s exterior, turned sharply toward her with a look of surprise.
“A ballerina, you say?”
“Yes.”
She wondered what reaction he’d have—would he look down on her, as a noble who disgraced herself by dancing publicly before crowds? It wouldn’t truly matter to her if he did, but she still didn’t want her fellow dancers nearby to discover her noble birth.
Alessandro’s violet eyes, tinged with gray, widened slightly, then softened into a gentle curve.
“How splendid. Didn’t you always love ballet, even as a child?”
Emilia’s lips trembled before she finally managed to speak.
“How… how would you know that…?”
“Thanks to cherished memories.”
“…I didn’t expect you’d remember our entire conversation.”
“It seems meeting you was truly a joy for me—if I still recall it so clearly, that is.”
His words held no trace of mockery, only pure, sincere admiration, leaving Emilia flustered. His eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, entirely free of any unpleasantness, still shining with nothing but genuine delight.
“Oh—I asked you about your reason for being here but forgot to mention my own. This year, the kingdom is paying close attention to the development of ballet troupes, so I came to discuss the matter in detail. Ballet still holds infinite potential for growth, and I believe properly introducing it into our kingdom could greatly enrich our artistic culture.”
“Ah… That makes sense, considering ballet hasn’t truly taken root here for very long.”
“Precisely. But please keep my visit here a secret—I slipped out through the emergency exit to avoid attention.”
Alessandro smiled with an unpretentious ease that contrasted sharply with his striking appearance—and stood in complete opposition to Enrico, who naturally carried himself with an air of inborn nobility, as if ruling from above by birthright.
‘It’s astonishing how different they can be despite sharing the same blood.’
The two men were barely different in age, making the comparison even starker. Enrico was Alessandro’s uncle? Perhaps the position of “uncle” lent itself to a more authoritative demeanor.
With an odd feeling stirring inside, Emilia stared at Alessandro for a moment before stepping back.
“I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thank you.”
Alessandro exhaled deeply, as if relieved, then tilted his head slightly with a gentle smile on his lips.
“If the chance arises, let’s meet again. I should take my leave now.”
“It was an honor that you remembered me.”
Emilia gave a slight curtsy, and Alessandro responded by placing his hand over his left chest and bowing his head courteously.
Their childhood meetings had been brief but warm. She’d assumed people changed as they grew older, yet he seemed remarkably unchanged. Even more surprising was how much more he seemed to recall compared to her own memories.
Had her unrestrained manner back then caught his attention? Reflecting on those days, she remembered Alessandro often going alone into the woods and seeming to dislike encountering people.
Their first accidental meeting—when she accompanied her father to the palace—had been in a quiet corner of the garden. At first, he barely spoke, but she kept talking until they gradually grew closer.
‘Come to think of it, I must’ve said all sorts of things back then… He even remembers my ballet…’
Emilia watched Alessandro’s retreating back for a moment before turning forward again. Hurrying toward the emergency exit, she gently rubbed her cheek—already stiff from the cold, despite only standing outside briefly.
[This is the timeline separator]In the silent space, only occasional footsteps could be heard. Enrico walked down the corridor labeled “Art Gallery,” his hands clasped behind his back, radiating calm composure. Wearing a beige jacket over an ivory vest, his appearance seemed even more refined.
Golden frames hung against pristine white walls, each holding a different painting. Though the landscapes varied, the artistic style remained largely consistent—though occasionally, a piece in a different style peeked through.
Enrico stopped before one painting. Beneath a fiery sunset, scorched earth dominated the scene, brought vividly to life by bold brushstrokes. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“This one.”
His decision came quickly. He gave a subtle nod to the gallery curator waiting quietly behind him.
“Yes. This artist’s works are quite rare. New sculptures are arriving at dawn tomorrow—would you like to preview them first?”
“Hmm… So he’s dead, then.”
“Pardon? Ah—yes. He passed away half a year ago.”
Enrico smiled faintly. Still gazing at the painting, he resumed walking. As the curator had said, there were only a few pieces, and soon he stood before the final one.
A painting depicting only white foam and swirling currents of crashing waves. To Enrico, it somehow felt like the artist’s final statement.
“Art truly is fascinating—worthless while alive, only recognized once dead.”
Though masked by a languid tone, his voice betrayed unmistakable interest. Even as times changed and more nobles took up painting, artists born into poverty still often died hungry, unappreciated in life.
Only after death would their works gain immense value, fetching high prices—enriching only those left behind.
Enrico rubbed his chin with his left hand and stared into the empty air.
He saw her as clearly as if etched onto his retina: eyes the serene green of a deep lake, delicate white hands, the hem of her skirt fluttering gently at her feet, and the fragile yet resilient aura surrounding her slender frame—like a masterpiece brought to life.
Was that why he found Emilia especially intriguing? Because she wouldn’t lose value upon death—quite the opposite.
A flicker of emotion passed through Enrico’s eyes. Yet if even one aspect of her original essence were lost, she could never present herself as she did now. She was an exquisite, impossibly delicate artwork requiring constant, meticulous care as long as she lived.
‘Soon her third performance, isn’t it? She must be eagerly awaiting her reward.’
Enrico walked on, recalling her deer-like neck and the soft, empty lobe of her ear. Moments later, as he neared the gallery entrance through the long hallway, Fabio came into view—standing against the wall, waiting with someone.
Just then, the other person finished speaking, bowed, and departed. Spotting Enrico, Fabio quickly approached.
“Done viewing, Your Grace?”
Carefully, he draped Enrico’s coat over his broad shoulders.
“Yes. I don’t think I need to see anything else.”
“I’ll have the carriage ready immediately.”
Fabio gestured to the gallery staff and fell in step right behind Enrico.
“The person I just spoke with is from the Royal Palace Medical Office. They announced this morning that a formal ball will be held.”
“For what reason?”
“They’ve invited the princess of Carnet Kingdom—to foster trade and harmony between our nations.”
“I can guess whose pointless idea this was. The crown prince, I presume.”
“Yes.”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
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