Warding off the noble faction was already a challenging task, even as he served the Emperor. The noble relatives held significant influence in the intricate web of relationships and connections sustaining the house. They constantly sought opportunities to exploit Lysander, given his close proximity to the Emperor.
The thought of abandoning his role as the Emperor's secretary was unfathomable. Without this protective shield, Lysander envisioned being forcefully swept away by the nobles' faction. While they appeared feeble compared to the Emperor, he understood that their fate under the Emperor's tyrannical rule would be far from pleasant, a scenario he wished to avoid.
For those working closely with the Emperor and other nobles, Lysander appeared dedicated, so a sudden resignation seemed suspicious. However, Lysander had just revealed his plan to hand over the county's rights to the Imperial family, which was the only thing tying him to both the Emperor and the noble faction.
Furthermore, Lysander had emphasized that he would never disclose anything related to the imperial family to those unaffiliated with the imperial faction.
Moreover, there was no need for anyone to fear him attempting to escape beside the Emperor stood a mage capable of tracking Lysander's whereabouts at any given time, thanks to a pervasive tracking spell cast on all palace employees for safety reasons.
In a surprising revelation, Count Lysander Raphael Hawthorne-Magnolia declared his willingness to willingly relinquish his noble status, voluntarily descending to the status of a commoner by giving up his title.
Curiosity tinged with a hint of apprehension prompted the Emperor to question, "What is your purpose for doing all this?"
Lysander responded in a soft tone, "I'm afraid, Your Majesty, the reason might anger you."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, urging, "Speak."
"Mostly, Your Majesty, my reason is that I no longer wish to work in the palace or in the upper class," Lysander admitted. "Both have exhausted my patience and respect long ago."
There was no fear in Lysander's tone, no hesitation, not even a hint of anger. It was pure indifference, as if the Emperor barely registered in his perception. The only trace of nervousness lingered around the acceptance of his letter.
With his head lowered, Lysander remained oblivious to the profound look the Emperor cast upon him. After a while, the Emperor's voice broke the silence,
"No need to introduce any assistants to me. Once we're done with the necessary paperwork in a few days, you may pack your bag and scram."
Though Lysander's vision blurred, and his heart throbbed painfully, he couldn't suppress a relieved and euphoric smile.
Upon seeing that relieved smile, as is he had been freed from some horrible prison, the Emperor felt very complicated but chose to ignore it.
Enduring tenaciously, Lysander stayed as he helped the Emperor sort through documents and letters. When finally ordered to leave, his head bowed, his smile couldn't escape the Emperor's notice, though the latter chose to ignore it.
Upon exiting the office, Lysander stood by the door for a few minutes. The guards, watching him sceptically, observed as he clenched and unclenched his fists, taking deep breaths, his face as pale as a sheet of paper.
The guards were accustomed to scenes of people leaving the Emperor's presence in a disturbed state. The Emperor could be terrifying. However, Count Magnolia was not like the others. He was typically calm, even when facing the Emperor's occasional wrath, which was a rare occurrence.
Alex, noticing Lysander's obvious distress, decided to inquire, "Lord Magnolia, are you alright?"
Lysander remained silent, not even turning around for a while. He mumbled to himself, tightly interlacing his hands until they turned white with the force. Though Alex might not have picked up on the mumbling, Melissa's superior hearing caught every word.
'Bad... Bad bad bad bad bad... I was slow. And careless. Careless careless careless careless. Ugh... At this rate...'
With these strange mumblings, Lysander slowly opened his trembling hands, turned towards them, and bowed with a smile to reassure them. His lips were ghastly pale, and with a long, broken exhale, he carefully walked forward, each step as if he feared collapsing.
"Lord Magnolia-"
Melissa and Alex attempted to call out to him, concerned by his visibly unwell state. However, before they could say more, they watched as Lysander hastened to leave. They exchanged glances, silent questions reflected in their faces.
Lysander, in his haste, felt his ears ringing sharply, and his head ached as if someone were bashing it with a bat. A slight fishy taste of blood in his mouth was slowly becoming stronger.
The initial side effects of the regression had hit him much earlier and more intensely than ever before. Unprepared for this sudden onset, Lysander had anticipated it to appear at least two to three months later.
But it had only been a little more than a month before he suffered. Unfortunate timing, yet Lysander harboured no resentment. He almost welcomed the pain, interpreting it as a possible sign that his curse might be nearing its end.
Lysander rushed across the hallway, nearing his limit. Realizing he couldn't make it to his carriage, he instinctively headed for his nearby office. His steps grew increasingly unstable, and he supported himself against the wall when no one was in sight.
With diminishing consciousness, he sensed his office door just a few steps away. Leaning against the wall, hand over his lips, he moved towards the door. Nearly tripping, he caught the handle swiftly. About to enter, a hand on his shoulder halted him.
Under normal circumstances, Lysander would have turned around to face the person. In fact, he would have faced them long before they could approach him so closely. However, his condition was so dire that he hadn't even noticed someone walking up to him. A muffled sound reached his ears, but he couldn't decipher the words.
Unconsciously trying to remove the palm from his shoulder with trembling hands, he failed. He attempted to open the door with a flailing arm, searching for the handle, but his legs gave out, and his arms went numb.
'Ah... I screwed up.'
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he coughed with painful effort. Feeling warmth on his back, someone gently rubbed it. Eventually, he sensed someone lifting him up. Before losing consciousness, Lysander could vaguely discern two figures looking down at him.