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

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting soft golden light over the grand duchess's chambers.

As Grand Duchess Amana stirred awake, her temples throbbed with a dull ache. She blinked against the light, confused for only a second before the memories of last night came rushing back.

The banquet. The wine. The spinning room. The things she said.

"Oh gods…"

She muttered, her voice raspy as she sat up slowly and covered her face with both hands.

"I didn't… I couldn't have said that out loud… right?"

But the silence of the room didn't reassure her. A horrible pit formed in her stomach.

She could feel the weight of her actions, the vulnerability she had shown, and how she had so brazenly declared she might actually like her fiancé. Her partner in war, for gods' sake.

Slipping out of bed in a panic, she grabbed her coat and tried to tie her hair back with trembling fingers.

She needed to get out of here. She needed to escape before—

"Leaving without saying anything to me?"

Came Kyle's voice from behind her, smooth and calm.

Amana froze in place like a child caught sneaking sweets.

Her heart leapt to her throat. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned around.

"Since when were you awake?"

She asked, her voice a strangled whisper.

Kyle stood leaning against the nearby column, arms crossed casually, his eyes on her with an amused glint.

"The whole time. You were just too hungover to notice."

The grand duchess let out a strangled groan and promptly buried her face in her hands again.

"No. No no no. This can't be happening."

She muttered into her palms.

Kyle chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying her reaction.

"It's really not that bad, you know."

She peeked through her fingers, glaring at him.

"Not that bad? I rolled around like a drunken child. I talked. I confessed things. I have never wanted the earth to swallow me more than I do right now."

He stepped forward, his smirk softening.

"You did say a few things."

He admitted.

"Forget it. I'll be more dignified starting tomorrow. You won't see a repeat of… that."

She said quickly, straightening and turning away, cheeks burning.

But Kyle's laughter stopped her in her tracks.

"I thought it was adorable."

He said.

She turned, staring at him.

"You… what?"

He met her gaze, completely serious now.

"You're always composed. Regal. The perfect leader. But last night, you were just you. And I liked it."

His smirk returned.

"Don't worry, I won't let anyone else see you like that if you're embarrassed about it. But I wouldn't mind seeing it again, personally."

The duchess stared at him, utterly speechless.

'Was Kyle Armstrong… teasing her? Flirting?'

Her cheeks deepened in color and for a few seconds, all she could do was blink like an idiot. Then, she quickly straightened her coat and cleared her throat.

"Tch. You're impossible. Get dressed. We need to meet the crown prince before he starts whining like a baby."

She muttered, turning her face away to hide her flushed expression.

Kyle raised a brow.

"That's quite the description of your royal cousin."

"You haven't seen him throw a tantrum. It's not pretty."

She said with a sigh, striding toward the door.

As Kyle followed, he gave her one last smile.

"For the record, I'll still follow you even if you roll around on the floor again."

She threw him a scowl over her shoulder, but couldn't stop the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Perhaps, just perhaps, her engagement with Kyle Armstrong wasn't going to be so cold and political after all.

______

The hall leading to the royal prince's chambers was quiet, the heavy silence broken only by the sound of booted steps.

Grand Duchess Amana and Kyle walked side by side, their pace even but purposeful. The scent of jasmine and wax polish lingered faintly in the air, a testament to the palace's fastidious upkeep.

As they reached the ornate doors of the prince's private quarters, the chamber maid stationed outside looked up—and instantly paled.

Her eyes darted between the Grand Duchess and Kyle, her lips parting slightly in alarm.

She looked back toward the room behind her, visibly hesitating, before she suddenly stepped forward and blocked their path.

"I—I'm terribly sorry."

She stammered, pressing her palms together nervously. "But the crown prince is not in any condition to take visitors right now."

Amana's eyes narrowed.

"Move aside."

She said calmly.

The maid shook her head, her voice growing more firm.

"I cannot, Your Grace. His Highness is… unwell. I was told to let no one through."

"Even me?" Amana asked, her tone sharp now, edged with disbelief.

"Yes. Even you."

The maid said with a little more conviction.

A beat of silence passed as the tension thickened. Kyle watched silently as Amana stared the maid down. The duchess's eyes, normally warm when speaking to civilians, were now cold and calculating.

"Step aside. That is an order."

She said again.

The maid stiffened.

"I'm sorry, but no."

It was bold—too bold. For a chamber maid to defy a duchess in the royal palace was unthinkable. Amana pressed her fingers to her forehead, sighing in exasperation.

"This is not the time to test my patience."

She stepped forward, her hand moving subtly toward the mana ring on her finger. But before anything could escalate further, a voice came from within the chambers, clear and cheerful.

"Let them in, Elya."

The maid—Elya—visibly flinched, her entire body tensing at the sound. She turned toward the door and bowed.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness…"

Then, reluctantly, she stepped aside, her mouth drawn into a thin, unhappy line. She bowed stiffly to Amana, avoiding eye contact, and opened the door.

Amana walked in without another glance at the maid. Kyle followed closely, glancing back at the young woman whose expression was now unreadable.

The maid bowed stiffly and turned to leave, her footsteps light but brisk as she retreated down the polished corridor.

However, just before disappearing behind the archway, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.

Her eyes landed on the Grand Duchess first, narrowed with a bitterness she didn't bother to hide.

Amana, in turn, did not spare the maid even a passing glance. She had more important things on her mind than petty defiance from a servant.

But when the maid's eyes slid to Kyle, she was met with an unshakable gaze.

Kyle stood calmly, arms folded, his expression unreadable—but his stare was direct and unwavering, like he was reading her entire soul without saying a word.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other.

The maid's composure broke first. Her eyes widened slightly, and a rush of pink crept across her cheeks.

She quickly averted her gaze, pressing her lips together and clutching her skirts in a poor attempt to retain dignity. Without another word, she turned sharply and vanished into the hallway.

Kyle didn't say anything. He simply watched her go, his thoughts hidden behind a quiet intensity.

Amana finally looked at him sideways.

"You didn't even say a word."

Kyle shrugged.

"Didn't have to. I can read your expression quite well by now."