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

The sky had long faded into dusk by the time Kyle returned to the inn.

The streets had grown quiet, with only a few villagers moving about—each one minding their own business with heads bowed low.

But the presence that had tailed him all day still clung to his shadow, subtle yet unwavering.

It moved with the silence of someone used to stalking, never close enough to be seen, but never far enough to escape Kyle's senses.

Inside the inn, the air was warm and filled with the scent of spiced broth and burning wood.

The innkeeper looked up from behind the counter, and for a moment, his eyes lingered on Kyle's posture—just stiff enough to suggest unease.

"Long day, young master? Can I do anything to help you out?"

The innkeeper asked with a cautious smile.

Kyle gave a brief nod, but said nothing.

Silvy, who had been idly stirring a cup of tea nearby, immediately straightened at the sight of him.

Her brows pulled together in concern.

"You're acting weird. Are you alright? If someone's bothering you, I can help. As your wife, you can depend on me as well."

She said, watching him more carefully than usual.

Kyle waved her off casually.

"It's nothing. Just tired."

But her narrowed eyes said she didn't believe him. She felt suspicious at the fact that he did not even correct her when she called herself his wife.

After a quiet dinner, Kyle stood, dusting off his sleeves.

"Tonight, no matter what you hear, don't come to my room. Understood?"

He said, glancing between the two.

The innkeeper's lips pressed into a thin line. His instincts told him not to ask questions, and he nodded quickly.

"Of course, young master."

Silvy, however, was less agreeable.

"What do you mean by that? You're making it sound like—"

"I'm serious. Don't come. Especially you."

Kyle interrupted, voice low and firm.

Her eyes narrowed.

"That just makes me want to go even more."

Kyle sighed inwardly. Predictable.

He turned to the innkeeper.

"Put some sleeping incense in her room tonight. A heavy dose. And make sure it's laced with mana."

The innkeeper blanched.

"Young master, if she finds out—"

"She won't. And even if she does, you let me deal with it. Just do it."

Kyle said.

Reluctantly, the innkeeper agreed, too intimidated to refuse.

Silvy gave them both a suspicious look but didn't press it further—perhaps thinking Kyle was just being dramatic.

By the time night fell, the inn had gone silent.

The upgraded rooms the innkeeper had offered were tucked in the secluded back wing of the building, where no other guests stayed.

It was quiet, still, and perfect for what Kyle had in mind.

He lay in bed, eyes half-closed, his breathing slow and measured.

Outside, Queen glided out the window with a soft flutter of wings, taking position on a nearby rooftop to keep watch. Kyle waited.

The presence came just past midnight.

He felt the brief pulse of mana used to burn incense laced with sleeping properties—cleverly enhanced to spread faster and stronger.

It was the same type used in assassination attempts or to knock out a target before interrogation.

Kyle's mana moved quietly, countering the effects and shielding his body from the haze.

He let his breath deepen, his limbs grow slack, pretending to drift into unconsciousness.

Moments later, the faintest sound brushed his ears—a shift of cloth, the whisper of feet on wood.

The window creaked open. Kyle didn't move.

Whoever was entering knew how to suppress their presence, but not from someone as sharp as him.

The figure took careful steps toward the bed. Closer. Closer still.

Kyle waited until the mana signature was within arm's reach.

Then he moved.

His hand shot out, quick and precise, catching a wrist mid-motion.

The intruder froze instantly, startled.

But before they could react, Kyle was already on his feet, spinning their arm behind their back and shoving them down onto the floor with practiced ease.

"Not bad. But not good enough."

Kyle muttered coldly, tightening his grip.

The figure squirmed under his hold, a sharp intake of breath revealing a female voice.

"Let go!"

"After you break into my room and try to put me to sleep? You've got guts. Or stupidity."

Kyle said, tone razor-sharp.

The girl tried to turn her head, but Kyle pressed a knee against her back, keeping her pinned.

He could feel the strange mana leaking from her skin—it wasn't human. It wasn't elf either.

It was something else.

From outside, Queen let out a shrill cry, signaling movement nearby.

Kyle's eyes flicked to the window. He had a feeling this was only the beginning.

But for now, he turned his focus back to the girl beneath him.

The girl struggled fiercely under Kyle's grip, her limbs thrashing in desperate jerks.

Her cloak twisted around her, hood falling back to reveal a young face, tense with fear and confusion.

Her clothes became ruffled in the process, but Kyle didn't let his grip waver.

He had no intention of hurting her more than necessary—but he couldn't afford to let her go either.

With a deep breath, he let his mana surge through his hand and into her body, suppressing her energy completely.

Her struggling ceased as her limbs went limp and her breathing slowed.

A faint shimmer of energy clung to her skin, like residue from a spell not her own.

Kyle narrowed his eyes.

He extended his senses and pressed his palm lightly against her back, trying to trace her mana flow. But there was nothing.

No natural core.

No internal flow.

Not even the signature every living being naturally carried.

It was as if this girl had been emptied out—her mana completely erased. And that, more than anything, told Kyle something was wrong.

"She's not the one who followed me around the village today."

He muttered under his breath.

The girl wasn't the presence that had been following him. She was a pawn. A decoy.

Kyle's gaze darkened.

He could still sense faint traces of foreign mana embedded in her—aggressive, unnatural, threaded deep beneath her skin like cursed threads.

It wasn't hers.

Someone else had embedded their own energy within her and used it to control her movements.

Even now, he could see how the mana had been anchored to her consciousness.

"Looks like you bare just a puppet as well."

He whispered.

He tried to follow the residual threads of mana, extending his own to trace them back to the caster.

For a moment, he caught a glimpse—just a flicker—of the signature. Cold. Distant. Watching.

But just as he prepared to dig deeper, the thread snapped.

Kyle's mana was cut off, severed mid-trace, as if the person on the other end had realized their connection had been compromised.

Kyle let out an annoyed sigh and rubbed the side of his temple.

"Tch. Got played."

He had been baited—led to believe he was being watched closely, only for a puppet to be tossed at him at the last moment, perhaps to test him or throw him off.

And it had worked. He clenched his jaw in frustration.

His eyes returned to the unconscious girl.

"Guess I'll be dealing with you later."