When Pride Falls at Your Feet (19 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 3
“It’s disappointing to think that after all your hard work attending the academy, this is all you want. Sure, there may be people like you who seek impure patronage, but most of us do this because we love ballet. Don’t insult this place with your narrow-minded values.”
An icy silence settled over them. Emilia took in Professor Alice’s stiff, hardened expression and Bella’s flushed face as she bit her lower lip. Soon, everyone solemnly bowed their heads.
“Today is the result of long, careful preparation. Don’t forget all your efforts.”
“Yes….”
“It’s ten minutes to showtime. Everyone, get ready. And Emilia, Masante.”
Everyone exchanged glances and quietly slipped toward the waiting area. Professor Alice, watching them, gestured vaguely into the air, beckoning them closer.
“You two are the leads who must carry this performance. Are you well prepared?”
Standing side by side before Professor Alice, Emilia gave a small nod.
“Yes.”
“Good. You understand better than anyone that this is a great opportunity for you both. The Avaliante Ballet Company will be watching you closely. Going abroad for auditions is fine, but this company offers the rare privilege of direct admission as a full member—so seize this chance.”
At Professor Alice’s whisper, their expressions diverged starkly, if only for an instant—hope in one face, resignation in the other—a fleeting contrast carried off like wind.
Moments later, both gave a single nod and turned to leave. Professor Alice reached out questioningly toward Emilia, but the swelling orchestral music filling the theater halted her hand midair.
At last, the curtain rose.
[This is the timeline separator] [La Sylphide]Though it may seem a simple fairy tale, a love so blindingly sudden might be even more dreamlike than actually meeting a fairy.
And the object of that love was a beautiful fairy, no less. Even if the story was fanciful, its sweet illusion offered a brief escape from reality—enough to utterly captivate the audience.
Even though the male protagonist loses everything, and the fairy’s wings cease to flutter because of his greed.
Until that tragic end arrived, the fairy on stage danced with such charm—her fluttering movements enchanting not just the male lead but every spectator as well.
Her light, nimble steps and delicately trembling fingertips alone seemed to summon the breath of spring, beautiful enough to make one forget winter’s biting winds.
Watching Emilia, who smiled as if she’d truly become a fairy, the audience smiled along; seeing her collapse in anguish, they welled with tears.
“Bravo!”
Naturally, the performance was a success. Endless encore demands and thunderous applause filled the theater for a long while.
So much so that even now, alone in her room, Emilia could still hear the echoes of that cheering in her ears.
“…Why do I feel so hollow?”
While everyone else went off to celebrate, Emilia returned alone to the silent dormitory, her eyes empty. Yet her fingers fidgeting with the ballet costume on her lap betrayed a deep, helpless sorrow.
The way that skirt had fluttered on stage already felt like a dream. Perhaps it was because this grand dome theater was so different from her usual small performances—today, her heart had pounded as though about to burst with excitement.
The shimmering movements beneath the chandeliers, the orchestra’s thunderous swell, and the rapt, adoring gazes of the crowd—it had all made her feel, just for that moment, vividly alive.
Outside her window, snow fell softly, piling up as if deliberately burying memories. The cold tightening around her flesh, as though urging her to wake from her dream and face reality, made Emilia’s eyelashes tremble faintly.
“Enough already… Let’s go.”
If she didn’t escape now, she might never get another chance.
Giorgio had intended to take Emilia away right after the performance ended, but seeing her surrounded by well-wishers, he’d wisely sent a servant with instructions to come to the viscount’s estate immediately after the after-party—thankfully.
He probably saw her public acclaim as a sign her value had risen—hence that despicable man had left without protest.
Though she’d secretly asked Giuliana for help and slipped away, once back in her dorm room, packing quickly proved difficult. She couldn’t take everything, but each item she touched slowed her hands, as if unwilling to let go of even a fragment of memory.
Emilia slowly scanned the room one last time. She should have left lightly, full of hope for a new beginning—but instead, her heart felt unbearably heavy.
“…Let’s really go.”
She murmured softly and stepped forward. Her pace, at first slow, gradually quickened.
Soon, a large door opened, and a cold wind slapped her cheeks. Fearing the snowstorm might worsen, she pulled her scarf up to her nose and strode briskly toward the academy’s rear gate.
She could have taken the front gate to catch the waiting street carriage, but worried the viscount might have posted guards, she chose the longer, harder route.
Unlike the brilliantly lit theater district celebrating year-end splendor, the surroundings here were dark, filled only with the sound of wind. Emilia walked the quiet night path relying solely on a small lamp, her expression utterly blank. Her jade-green eyes, dull as if all emotion had died within them, blinked slowly.
“Will I even be able to get new identification papers? Even if I hide well until the New Year, officials will surely be waiting… Maybe it’s better to just board a ship straight to another country. Survive illegally for a while, then buy a new identity… But will the money I’ve saved be enough?”
Perhaps the cold wind had cleared her mind, because only now did her thoughts grow tangled. A long, white puff of breath escaped between her lips, which were steadily losing color.
“…!”
Just then—she heard it. A faint crunch of snow underfoot in the distance. Emilia’s eyes narrowed. Seeing the dim light drawing nearer, she stopped midstep, conflict flashing across her face.
Should she stay still—or turn and run? Her heartbeat thundered as footsteps approached.
“Lady Este.”
Before she could decide, the other person called out to her and drew near.
“Do you have a moment?”
Emilia’s eyes widened. An unexpected figure had come to invite her.
“Duke Michele is waiting for you.”
He pointed courteously toward a carriage parked in the distance.
[This is the timeline separator]Enrico watched silently as Emilia entered the carriage. Her movements, cautious and guarded, were agonizingly slow as she carefully took a seat opposite him.
Each step seemed laden with hesitation. Enrico tilted his head slightly, observing her quiet struggle.
“…I present myself before Duke Michele.”
A small lamp on the ceiling cast shadows across Emilia’s face. Her cheeks and nose, reddened by the cold, peeked intermittently into view—along with her trembling lips.
Enrico’s gaze briefly rested on her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Like her lips, they shook visibly.
“Sit down. I don’t particularly enjoy being looked up to.”
“Oh… My apologies.”
Her face appeared calmer than he’d expected. Yet despite her composed expression and steady tone, her hands still trembled faintly as she settled into the seat opposite him—gripping each other tightly in her lap as if pleading to some higher power.
Enrico’s eyelids lowered languidly, then slowly lifted again, revealing striking eyes like embedded amethysts. A flicker of interest passed through his otherwise cold, emotionless gaze.
“She looks like a miniature portrait.”
Up close, Emilia Este’s delicate features formed a perfectly symmetrical composition.
Her large, teardrop-shaped jade eyes held the depth of the ocean, and her beautifully proportioned lips resembled petals from a crimson rose—striking an exquisite contrast against her porcelain skin, too vivid even for paint.
Enrico’s gaze, having regarded her aesthetic beauty as one would a fine piece of art, naturally drifted downward.
Though hidden beneath her vernet coat, the lines of her body glimpsed during her dance traced an exceptionally elegant curve.
Her slender shoulders, straight collarbones, narrow waist, and delicate ankles—all appeared fragile, yet he knew her form was strong and capable of powerful, precise movement.
The memory of her soaring high like a butterfly, wings scattering brilliant light, now felt as distant as a midsummer night’s dream.
Nothing that breathed had ever truly satisfied him—but she, at least, seemed worth the trouble of coming here.
Still, that was all. A woman who didn’t dance couldn’t possibly fulfill him completely.
Enrico leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. His half-lidded eyes gleamed with arrogance.
“So, she’s not worth as much offstage as she is on.”
Male lead says he’s pregnant — and it’s female lead’s child
Something seems a bit off about this world.
Wang Zhao thought as she watched a pregnant man walking towards her…
Intro
Female lead finds herself in a world where the men who possess the ability to bear children.
As she navigates this unfamiliar reality, she is caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her boyfriend, who reveals that he is pregnant.
Is this truly her boyfriend?
Why can’t she recall any details about their time together?
She begins to doubt whether the child her boyfriend is carrying is even hers.
Is there a hidden reason behind her amnesia, or could it be a side effect of her sudden arrival in this strange new world?
Just when it seems the protagonist’s life couldn’t become any more entangled, her ex-boyfriend makes an unexpected appearance, raising questions about the protagonist’s past.
__________
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