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

Kyle blinked a few times, still groggy from the lack of sleep.

"I just woke up… there's no way I'm going to bed this early. Is Silvy still half-asleep? Or was she just nervous?"

He grumbled under his breath.

Queen ignored him entirely.

The hawk simply fluffed its feathers, made itself comfortable atop the small shelf near the window, and tucked its head under its wing with a soft, contented chirp—clearly done with the day.

Kyle scoffed but didn't push it.

"Lucky bird. Then again, the journey at night must have taken a lot of energy."

He muttered and made his way downstairs for breakfast.

As he entered the common room of the inn, the scent of warm food greeted him.

A plate was already set out at his usual seat—generous servings of fresh bread, smoked meat, poached eggs, and a steaming bowl of vegetable broth.

The sight made Kyle become aware that he was hungry, but it also earned him more than a few glares from the other patrons.

"Why does he get that much food?"

One man grumbled from a nearby table.

"Yeah, the rest of us barely get a proper egg. How is that fair? We all deserve the same treatment as guests."

Another muttered.

The innkeeper, wiping down a table nearby, didn't miss a beat.

"He paid for it. Triple your rate. Anyone else wants this treatment, go ahead and pay up."

The room quieted quickly after that. But the silence didn't erase the weight of the stares.

Kyle could practically feel the sharp edge of resentment in the air.

Some of the villagers looked at him like he was flaunting wealth they couldn't dream of. Others looked like they were already planning ways to knock him down a few pegs.

Kyle wasn't interested in finding out which was which. He ate quickly, finishing his meal in record time before slipping out of the inn.

Outside, the village was dreary as ever.

The streets were quiet, and the few people walking around moved slowly, either due to the lingering curse or sheer weariness.

The prices posted outside a few shop windows caught his attention—staggeringly high, even for a place this remote.

That only confirmed what Kyle had guessed: trade routes into the village were likely thin, if not entirely cut off.

As he walked, something tugged at his senses, pulling his attention to a small herb shop tucked between two abandoned buildings.

It looked old, but well-maintained.

Curious, Kyle stepped inside.

The interior was warm and smelled faintly of dried herbs and incense.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars and bundles of strange plants.

Kyle's eyes wandered toward a particularly odd bundle near the counter, its silvery leaves glinting faintly in the low light. He reached out to touch it—

Smack.

A sharp sting ran through his hand as someone swatted it away.

Kyle looked up sharply, already preparing to let his irritation show, but stopped short when he locked eyes with the shopkeeper.

A young man, about Kyle's age, stood in front of him, arms crossed and expression stern.

"Don't touch things without asking. Who knows what can happen to you if you do. I don't want any trouble to come my way because of you."

He said firmly.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, the air between them tense.

But then something shifted—an odd calmness lingered in the room, like the plants themselves were whispering a reminder to stay grounded. Kyle stepped back.

The shopkeeper's expression softened as he realized the mistake.

"Ah—sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. Some of these herbs are dangerous if they come in direct contact with skin. You looked like the… delicate type. I didn't want you to get a rash or worse."

He gave Kyle a sheepish look.

Kyle arched a brow at the assumption but didn't correct him. Letting people believe he was more fragile than he really was had its perks.

The shopkeeper didn't press further.

"Anyway, if there's anything you need, just point it out. I'll get it for you."

Kyle gave a quiet hum in response and glanced around the shelves again.

The tension between them had thinned, and though Kyle remained wary, the atmosphere of the place intrigued him.

He wondered if the shopkeeper knew more about what was happening in this village—or if the calming effect was merely due to the herbs and enchantments laced throughout the store.

Still, something told him this shop was worth remembering.

Kyle pointed at a few bundles of herbs behind the counter.

The shopkeeper nodded wordlessly, reached toward the shelf, and did something that made Kyle's gaze narrow in interest.

Before the shopkeeper touched the herbs, a faint shimmer surrounded his hand—an almost invisible layer of mana coating his skin.

The motion was quick, smooth, and controlled. There was no fluctuation, no wasted energy, and not even a flicker of resistance from the materials.

The herbs settled neatly into the bag as if they recognized and obeyed the presence that moved them.

It was… subtle mastery.

Kyle leaned casually against the counter.

"That's a neat trick. You practice mana or internal energy?"

He remarked, voice light.

The shopkeeper froze for a heartbeat—just long enough for Kyle to notice.

Then he gave an awkward smile and scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh, I don't really know what you mean, sir. I'm just a humble shopkeeper. My grandfather taught me how to handle herbs, that's all."

Kyle's smile didn't reach his eyes. He didn't push the issue though.

"I see."

He said calmly, sliding a few silver coins across the counter.

The shopkeeper nodded quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Pleasure doing business. Come back anytime."

With a nod of thanks, Kyle turned and stepped out into the street, the bag of herbs tucked under one arm.

He looked like a calm man taking a stroll during the day, but his thoughts were far from calm.

The way the shopkeeper had moved… the precision, the familiarity, the natural flow of mana—it wasn't something a backwater merchant would know, let alone execute so flawlessly.

That kind of control took years of practice, and the mana itself… Kyle had felt it, faint as it was.

Not just strong, but deep, but practiced.

It resonated in a way that no human their age should possess.

He let out a low, amused laugh.

"Looks like I might've stumbled on the root of this village's curse."

Kyle continued his stroll through the narrow paths of the village.

Now that he was paying attention, he noticed more oddities.

A strange stillness that clung to certain homes. A whisper of something old in the air near the well.

Mana seeped into the bones of this place—it wasn't loud or chaotic, but it hummed beneath the surface like a deep, waiting breath.

Then, a chill crawled up the back of his neck.

Kyle didn't break his stride, but his posture adjusted slightly, more alert.

The sensation of being watched was unmistakable. He walked a few more paces, turned a sharp corner, and then—on a whim—stepped into the shadow of an empty alley.

He waited.

Nothing.

But the feeling didn't go away.

He stepped back into the open, now certain. Someone was tailing him. Not just watching, but observing. Tracking.