The panic-stricken Azeryan was no longer the tranquil figure he had been before, stuttering and unable to find his words.
"I can give you time to think it over."
Pilireno stepped forward with an ambiguous tone, lifting the chin of the young man, "But if you ultimately refuse, then I must reconsider my funding and support.
You wouldn't want to miss the chance to reclaim your father's title and lands, would you?"
Although he had read about the favoritism among nobles in books, experiencing such licentiousness firsthand and feeling a chill spread from his heels to his head, Azeryan shuddered with disgust.
Remembering the overly affectionate greeting he had received upon arrival, he could no longer suppress the nausea welling up inside him.
"Your... Your Excellency! Please... allow me to consider!"
The young man jerked his head away to break contact, shouting as he pushed open the door and fled in a panic.
