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

Silvy pouted the entire way back to the guest quarters, arms crossed and lower lip sticking out like a sulking child.

Kyle glanced at her with amusement, carrying her gently through the winding halls of the elven village.

"You're going to regret all of this in the morning."

Kyle said, his voice laced with dry humor.

"I will not. I was very clear."

Silvy muttered, snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Clearer than I ever expected."

He replied with a low chuckle.

Silvy gave no answer after that, her eyes fluttering closed.

Exhaustion was setting in fast, and despite her brave declarations, her body had already surrendered to sleep by the time Kyle reached the room.

He laid her down carefully on the bed and covered her with a blanket, watching her sleep for a moment before letting out a long sigh.

"Bold as always. Even when drunk out of your mind."

He murmured.

The next morning, a bleary-eyed Silvy sat up in bed and groaned as she held her pounding head.

"What… happened?"

Kyle, seated on a nearby chair reading a letter, looked up and smiled.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I danced barefoot on a battlefield. My head's killing me."

She muttered.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's what happens when you drink enough wine to drown a troll."

Silvy squinted at him.

"I didn't drink that much… right?"

"You don't remember?"

He asked, feigning innocence as he folded the letter.

"I remember drinking. Then everything's a blur. Did I do something embarrassing?"

Silvy admitted.

Kyle simply stood up and stretched.

"Let's just say you made a lasting impression."

Silvy groaned.

"That's not good."

Later that morning, Silvy stepped out of the guest quarters and noticed a shift in the atmosphere.

Elves were glancing her way—some with curiosity, others with barely concealed pity. A few even whispered behind their hands, looking both amused and sympathetic.

She frowned.

"Why is everyone… looking at me like that?"

As she walked through the village, it only grew worse. A group of young elves bowed quickly and scurried past her. Others gave her wide berth.

By the time she reached the elder's pavilion, the elf chief approached her with a solemn expression.

"You are strong, Silvy. But there's no shame in staying here. You could live a quiet, content life among your people. You've already done enough."

He said kindly.

Silvy blinked.

"Chief, are you trying to talk me into retiring?"

"It's an option."

He said delicately.

She straightened her posture and shook her head firmly.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not giving up. I still have a duty to fulfill. I'll see this through to the end."

From behind her, she heard a soft snort and turned her head just in time to see Kyle trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. His shoulders shook with the effort, and he had to cover his mouth.

"What's so funny?"

She hissed, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Kyle said, waving her off with a grin.

"Liar."

She glared at him all the way out of the village, but Kyle kept his silence.

It wasn't until they were well into the forest path, the trees rustling gently above them, that Silvy couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright. What. Happened. Last. Night?"

She snapped, halting in her tracks and turning to him with a scowl.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"You really don't remember?"

"No! Why do you think I've been getting stared at like I kicked the elf god's pet deer?"

She said, exasperated.

As they made their way down the forest path, sunlight trickling through the canopy above, Silvy turned to Kyle with a lingering scowl.

"So… you're really not going to tell me?"

Kyle didn't look at her. He kept walking, hands in his pockets, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

She demanded, catching up to him and trying to peer at his face.

"Just tell me what I said. Please?"

"You want me to recite your drunken declarations in vivid detail? I think you'd rather forget."

Kyle asked, raising a brow.

Silvy groaned.

"That's not fair."

Kyle shot her a side glance.

"Exactly. Which is why I'm being kind by letting you remember it on your own. If you can't, then maybe it wasn't that important."

Silvy glared at him.

"You're the worst."

"Glad to be of service."

Despite her grumbling, Silvy eventually fell silent. As much as it irked her not to know what she had said, some small part of her was relieved.

'Maybe it's better I don't remember.'

She thought with a sigh.

By the time they reached the edge of the elven village, they were greeted with a small farewell party and a basket of supplies.

After exchanging farewells, they finally set off toward Kyle's settlement.

A little ways down the road, Silvy glanced back at the winding path behind them.

"You're not forgetting anything, are you?"

Kyle looked at her.

"If you're talking about the elf doctor, then no. I talked to the chief about it before we left. They're sending a healer to our village soon."

Silvy nodded, clearly satisfied.

"That was part of it. But not the main thing."

"Oh?"

Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then what?"

Silvy crossed her arms.

"Where's the pet dragon? Don't tell me you left it behind."

Kyle let out a short laugh.

"Lysander's not a pet. And no, I didn't leave him. I asked him to get something important for me from the village. He'll join us later."

Silvy didn't look convinced.

"You sure he didn't just fly off because he got sick of you bossing him around?"

"He likes me just fine."

Kyle said.

"He tolerates you."

Silvy muttered.

Kyle gave her a wry smile.

"You would know all about that.."

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly skeptical, but decided not to press further.

Whatever Kyle and Lysander were up to, it likely wasn't something she could stop anyway. Besides, there were more important things ahead—things she had to prepare for.

Still, as she walked beside him, she couldn't shake the feeling that Kyle was hiding more than just her drunken antics.

But for now, she let it go.

They had a long journey ahead—and a village waiting for them.

______

Under the veil of night, when the elf village had quieted and the celebration's embers had faded into soft glows, Lysander moved like a shadow.

The small dragon crept through the ancient stone paths with an elegance unnatural for a creature his size.

His wings folded tightly against his body, and his scaled feet barely made a sound on the moss-laced cobblestones.

Tucked securely in his jaws was a cloth-wrapped artifact—ancient, humming with dormant energy. It pulsed faintly, a rhythm only magical creatures like Lysander could sense.

The artifact had been hidden deep within the temple's ruins, a relic lost to even the elves, but not to Kyle.

No guards saw him. No villagers stirred.

A single owl hooted as Lysander scaled the wall bordering the village. His claws gripped the stone as he hoisted himself over in one smooth motion.

Once beyond the perimeter, he took to the trees, darting through branches and foliage without disturbing a single leaf. He didn't fly—not yet. Too risky.

When he reached the clearing far enough from the village's watchful eyes, Lysander spread his wings and launched into the sky like a silent arrow.

The stars were his only witnesses.

Below, the village remained undisturbed, blissfully unaware that one of their oldest treasures was now gone.

Just as planned.