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

Melissa adjusted the collar of her uniform and rubbed her temples as she stared at the mountain of paperwork piled on Bruce's desk.

With Bruce asleep due to the mysterious divine-induced slumber, the duty of handling military logistics and correspondence had fallen to her.

She muttered under her breath.

"He better wake up soon. This is ridiculous…"

Yet it wasn't the paperwork or responsibility that bothered her the most—it was the still, unmoving presence in the corner of the room.

The puppet.

Kyle had left it with her before rushing off to deal with more urgent matters, and though Melissa said nothing at the time, she was deeply uncomfortable having it around.

It sat perfectly still, hands folded in its lap, expression blank but eerily human. Its glassy, soul-deep eyes were always fixed in her direction.

She had tried to ignore it for the past few hours, but the creeping sensation down her spine had reached its limit.

"All right. What do you want from me?"

She finally snapped, slamming her pen down and turning toward it.

Silence.

The puppet didn't even twitch.

Melissa groaned and leaned back, crossing her arms.

"Figures. Just creepy and silent."

She returned to her work, forcing herself to focus. Sleep tugged at her limbs, her vision occasionally blurring. Her body screamed for rest.

She fought the yawn crawling up her throat, choosing instead to jab her thigh sharply with a mana-charged pinch.

"Ow—Not sleeping. Not now."

She hissed, blinking away the haze.

Her resistance came from years of harsh mana control training and self-imposed endurance trials.

She'd trained herself to function on low sleep and minimal food. But even so, this… this divine sleep was unnatural. It didn't ask for rest. It commanded it.

Hours passed. She completed Bruce's duties one by one, sealed the final document, and finally leaned back, exhaling deeply.

"Done."

But she didn't feel any better. In fact, the stillness in the room felt even worse now. She glanced toward the puppet—only to find it standing beside the desk, inches from her face.

"GAH! Don't just sneak up like that!"

She stumbled backward, knocking her chair over.

Still, the puppet said nothing.

Its silent stare, unmoving and unblinking, bore into her. She clutched her pounding chest, catching her breath before scowling at it.

"Stay back, would you?!"

She growled. But it didn't follow as she left the room.

She stomped down the hallway, rubbing her arms for warmth she shouldn't have lost. The puppet, as if tethered to her presence, trailed behind without a sound.

Melissa muttered under her breath.

"Why did I have to get stuck babysitting that thing…"

Keeping busy was her only defense now. If she stopped, she knew the drowsiness would hit again, and this time she might not be able to fight it off.

She knew where Kyle had gone—his temporary office a few buildings down—and she figured she could offer to assist him. Anything to stay alert.

As she reached the door, she hesitated. Kyle had been keeping strange hours and dealing with intense pressure. She didn't want to interrupt. Still, she gathered her resolve and knocked.

To her surprise, it wasn't Kyle who opened the door—but Grand Duchess Amana.

Melissa's heart plummeted instantly.

There stood the grand duchess, radiant and composed, with not a strand of hair out of place despite everything that had happened.

Melissa stiffened, immediately noticing how the duchess's posture was relaxed—too relaxed.

Amana blinked at her and smiled politely.

"Melissa? Is something the matter?"

"I… I was looking for the young master. I thought I could help him with something."

Melissa said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Amana tilted her head slightly.

"He just stepped out for a few minutes. You must've just missed him."

Melissa nodded stiffly, unable to stop her eyes from drifting past the grand duchess and into the room.

The lingering scent of tea and parchment. A freshly used chair beside Kyle's. Their conversation must have been… comfortable.

The grand duchess followed her gaze and raised a brow but said nothing. Her expression remained pleasant, but the faint glint in her eyes spoke volumes.

Melissa clenched her fists at her side.

"I'll come back later."

She said quickly.

Before Amana could respond, the puppet stepped up beside Melissa once more, casting its silent gaze at the duchess. Amana's expression briefly flickered—then smoothed into intrigue.

Melissa turned briskly to leave, her boots clicking against the polished stone floor with sharp, purposeful steps.

The weight in her chest pressed down harder than she liked, but she forced it aside. She had no right to sulk—not now, not ever.

But then, as she passed into the corridor and instinctively glanced over her shoulder… she froze.

The puppet was gone.

Her eyes widened.

"What—?"

She whirled around, heart lurching into her throat. Her gaze darted back into the hallway she'd just walked down. Empty.

That puppet, that damned eerie thing that had followed her like a shadow for hours, was no longer behind her.

She hadn't heard it move. Hadn't felt its presence shift.

And yet, in the span of moments—between opening the door and the grand duchess's calm voice speaking—it had left her side.

Panic surged through her in a wave of cold adrenaline.

"No, no, no—where did you go?"

She muttered under her breath.

Her mind spun as dozens of horrible possibilities clawed at her thoughts.

'What if it attacked someone? What if it broke something? What if it left the palace entirely?'

'What if it disappointed Kyle?'

Her throat went dry. The very idea of failing him—after everything—shook her more than she expected.

"Damn it."

She cursed, snapping back to motion.

She pushed past startled servants, ignoring the curious glances and sharp questions. Her instincts, honed through countless battles and life-threatening moments, screamed at her to act.

'Track it. Contain it.'

She didn't care if the puppet looked lifeless. That thing radiated danger. If it lashed out again like it had in camp, innocent people would get hurt—and she'd be responsible.

'Focus. Focus and move.'

She told herself.

Melissa pressed a hand to the stone wall, channeling a sliver of mana outward. Her connection to the world flickered—weak, hazy—but just enough to catch the residue.

There.

A faint trail of foreign mana.

Soft, almost imperceptible, but definitely there. It led down the eastern corridor, away from the council chambers and toward the deeper interior of the palace.

She took off at a run.

'I'll catch you. No matter where you've gone… I'll find you. And I won't let the young master down.'

She swore silently.

Melissa's boots echoed with urgency as she raced down the corridor, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.

The palace guards glanced her way, startled, but none dared question her—her face held too much fury, too much desperation.

She followed the faint trail of divine mana, her senses sharpening with every step.

'Where are you going? What are you trying to do now?'

She thought, teeth clenched.

She remembered the puppet's empty eyes, how it stared at her for hours without blinking, how it never spoke yet somehow seemed to listen.

And now, it had moved on its own. That was the part that frightened her most.

If it harmed anyone, the blame would fall on her.

'Not happening.'

She skidded around a corner, mana flaring just beneath her skin. She would find that puppet and drag it back if she had to. For her pride. For Kyle.

Failure wasn't an option.