Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

The kitchen staff lingered even after Lady Rose had left the room, their faces a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

One of the older scullery maids hesitated before stepping toward Kyle, wringing her hands.

"Your Grace, please… don't hold this against our young miss. She—she really is trying her best. But she's young, and she hasn't had much experience managing an estate like this. Things have been hard for her since…"

She began softly.

The woman trailed off, glancing at the others before lowering her voice.

"…since certain troubles began a few weeks ago."

The head chef cleared his throat and joined in, his tone more resolute.

"She does have her faults, but she's been making an effort. For all her temper, we know she's trying to adapt, and we're… proud of her for it."

Kyle studied their earnest faces for a long moment before speaking.

"If you're proud of her, then help her. And that means not letting her pride run wild."

His voice was calm but edged with authority.

"If you allow her temper to control her, it will be bad news for her… and for all of you."

The kitchen staff nodded slowly, their earlier tension shifting into a kind of subdued agreement.

As Kyle turned to leave, he paused at the doorway.

"If Lady Rose tries to make you prepare more food than necessary again, you tell me. Immediately. Our goal is to return this household to normal—not waste what you have left."

The head chef's eyes widened slightly, and then he gave a deep, respectful bow.

"Understood, Your Grace. And… if I may… the village could use your help too."

His voice carried a trace of gratitude.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Go on."

The chef's voice dropped, becoming more cautious.

"We've been dealing with bandits—persistent ones. They strike when we least expect it, taking food, tools, anything they can carry. Our resources were already thin, but now…"

He sighed heavily.

"Now they're on the verge of breaking."

Kyle's expression didn't change much, but a thoughtful glimmer passed through his eyes.

"I'll take a look. Consider it repayment for the meal I've received here."

He said at last.

The head chef bowed again, visibly relieved.

Kyle left the kitchen and returned to his room, where several members of his party were waiting.

Grand Duchess Amana stood in the corner, her arms crossed, while Bruce and Melissa sat near the table, deep in quiet conversation.

Without preamble, Kyle said.

"We're taking a walk."

Melissa blinked.

"A… walk?"

Bruce tilted his head.

"That's not usually your style, Kyle. What's the plan?"

Kyle looked at each of them in turn.

"The plan is to see how bad things are in the village. If it's what I suspect, we'll be dealing with a problem that's been draining this place of resources long before we arrived."

He said slowly.

Amana's gaze sharpened.

"And I assume this 'problem' has two legs, weapons, and no manners?"

A faint smirk touched Kyle's lips.

"Something like that."

Melissa gave a small shrug.

"If you're going, we're going too."

"Of course. But remember—we're only scouting today. I want to understand the situation before we act. That means no starting fights unless I say so."

Kyle replied.

Bruce grinned faintly.

"You say that like you expect trouble."

Kyle's smirk deepened.

"I always expect trouble."

Within the hour, they were ready to leave, blending into the bustle of the estate grounds as if simply out for leisure.

Lady Rose, unaware of Kyle's plans, was in another wing, speaking sharply with her steward about replacing certain decorations that had been damaged during her earlier outburst.

The estate's servants watched Kyle's party depart with a mixture of curiosity and relief.

Some of them knew, instinctively, that whatever he was about to do might be exactly what the village needed.

By the time they reached the edge of the estate and stepped onto the dirt road leading toward the town, the late-morning sun was bright overhead.

Farmers passed by with weary nods, pulling carts half-filled with meager harvests.

The market square ahead seemed livelier than expected, but there was a tension in the air—like people were waiting for something to happen.

Kyle scanned the scene with the ease of a man who'd walked through countless towns like this before.

He could see the signs of strain—too many half-empty stalls, too many eyes darting to the outskirts of town as if expecting danger to come spilling in at any moment.

"Looks like the chef wasn't exaggerating."

Bruce muttered, his voice low.

"No. He wasn't."

Kyle agreed, his tone even.

Melissa's brow furrowed.

"So… what's next?"

Kyle's gaze fixed on a group of rough-looking men loitering near the far edge of the market, their eyes sweeping the crowd like wolves watching a flock.

"Next, we find out exactly how bold these bandits have gotten."

He said.

And with that, he started toward them, his party following close behind.

_______

The carriage rolled to a halt at the edge of the village, the faint creak of the wheels fading into the still air.

Kyle stepped down first, scanning the cluster of modest houses.

The late afternoon sun bathed the thatched roofs in a warm glow, children's laughter drifted faintly from somewhere, and a few villagers were tending to livestock.

On the surface, it was the picture of rural calm.

Melissa followed, her eyes darting around in suspicion.

"It's too quiet."

She murmured under her breath.

Bruce stretched, squinting at the open fields.

"No tracks, no broken fences, no sign of a fight. If there were bandits, they've cleaned up well."

Kyle didn't answer immediately. He walked forward, his boots crunching softly over the dirt road.

The villagers they passed offered polite smiles and slight bows, yet each greeting felt… rehearsed. A little too eager.

Their eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than comfort allowed, as if measuring him.

Melissa leaned closer to Kyle.

"They're hiding something."

Kyle's gaze swept over the main street, the neatly stacked firewood, the absence of any nervous muttering or closed shutters.

Everything was… perfect. Too perfect. He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's have a look around," he said calmly, but his hand lingered on his sword hilt.

Something here was wrong.

The village was peaceful, yes—but peace this flawless was often the best disguise for danger.

The villagers smiled and greeted them warmly, but Kyle noticed the stiffness in their expressions—like masks held too tightly in place.

Children played nearby, yet their laughter felt hollow, eyes darting to the elders as if checking for approval.

Melissa, riding beside him, lowered her voice.

"Young Master… they look happy, but they don't feel happy."

Kyle gave a slow nod, scanning the small square.

"Mm. They're pretending. And they're good at it." His gaze swept the rooftops, the alley shadows, the far-off tree line. Nothing moved out of place, yet his instincts churned.

Silvy stepped closer, her tone cautious.

"Could they be afraid of outsiders?"

"No. They're afraid of someone… or something… already here."

Kyle murmured, still watching.

The party dismounted, and a village elder hurried over, all smiles and trembling hands.

"Grand Duke, it is an honor—please, rest in our humble homes."

Kyle returned the smile, but his eyes stayed sharp.

"We'll stay a while."

As the elder led them toward the inn, Kyle's senses stretched outward, brushing against faint traces of mana—strange, like threads woven into the very air. They were hidden well… but not well enough for him.

Something here was watching them. Waiting.