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

The quiet of the evening deepened, but the tension between the two brothers sliced through the still air like a blade.

Christan finally broke the silence.

"So tell me, Kyle, why the rush? Is the rumor true? Did you knock up the Grand Duchess, and now you're scrambling to patch things up with a wedding dress?"

He muttered, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Kyle's jaw tightened.

"It's not like that."

Christan scoffed, a dry, humorless sound.

"Of course it's not. But you know what, little brother? That hardly matters. You can deny it all you want, but that's what the people are saying. That you couldn't control yourself, and now the duchess is carrying your bastard. And here you are, marrying her before her belly shows."

Kyle's eyes narrowed.

"Let them talk."

"Let them talk? Kyle, when enough people talk about something, it becomes the truth. That's how society works. Truth doesn't matter. Perception does. Your reputation? It's already gone. What you do or don't do doesn't matter anymore."

Christan barked out a laugh, sharp and bitter.

"I don't care about my reputation. They build me up when it suits them. They tear me down when they're afraid. None of it's real. None of it ever was."

Kyle said, calmly, but his voice carried weight.

Christan's laughter faded. His shoulders slumped slightly, a haunted expression shadowing his face. "When did you become so indifferent?"

Kyle looked at him quietly.

"You used to care. You used to cry over every whisper, beg me to help you keep your name intact. You were… fragile. Sensitive. Human."

Christan said.

"I grew up. And it's time you did too."

Kyle said simply.

Christan flinched. He took a step back, as if Kyle's words had hit something deeper than pride.

He stared at the ground for a long moment before looking back up.

"And what about me, then?"

"What about you?"

"If I do grow up, what's left for me?"

Kyle frowned.

Christan's voice cracked.

"Emelia will marry into an influential house. Nigel… he'll be the next Duke Armstrong. And you—"

He laughed hollowly

—"you'll be the Grand Duke. What's left for me, huh? What role do I play in this grand future of yours? The bitter, empty brother no one needs?"

"Christan—"

"You all have paths! You have purpose. You have destiny. And me?"

Christan raised his arms.

"I'm the discarded legacy. The first son who failed to live up to the name. The one who gets to watch the rest of you succeed."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? If it's not, then what the hell am I doing still living in this house? Why hasn't father assigned me something? Why hasn't anyone asked me what I want?"

He snapped.

Christan's chest heaved. His eyes glimmered, filled with an old pain he'd never dared to voice until now.

Kyle remained silent.

"I should just vanish. Maybe then people will finally remember I was here."

Christan whispered, walking toward the edge of the garden, where the lake reflected the moonlight like glass.

Kyle's eyes widened.

"Christan—"

Without warning, Christan took a step forward—toward the water, toward the edge.

Kyle reacted instantly.

He grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him back hard. Christan stumbled, flailing, but Kyle held on tight, wrestling him to the ground with a force that was calm but unyielding.

"You're insane. You think dying will fix anything?"

Kyle muttered.

Christan stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise, maybe even shame.

Kyle didn't let go.

"You think you can run away from your life by drowning in a lake? You think that's bravery? That's just cowardice dressed as drama."

Christan didn't speak.

"You're a fool. A fool for thinking you have no value just because the world didn't give you a title. You don't need permission to live, Christan. You don't need anyone to hand you a future. You make one."

Kyle hissed, lowering his voice.

"But what future?"

Kyle stood up and dragged Christan to his feet.

"That's for you to find out. But you won't do it by drowning yourself."

A moment passed.

Then Kyle turned to the nearby guards, who had come running at the sound of the commotion.

"Watch him. He's not well. Don't let him near the lake again."

Kyle ordered.

The guards nodded, hesitantly taking position nearby.

Christan didn't resist. He simply stood there, breathing hard, staring out at the water with an expression that looked more tired than lost now.

Kyle looked back once before walking away.

His voice, soft but firm, lingered in the air.

"Don't waste your life, Christan. If you're angry, use it. But don't throw it away like it means nothing. We've all made sacrifices… now it's your turn to decide who you want to be."

The guards gently but firmly took hold of Christan's arms, guiding him away with cautious glances, as though afraid he might try something reckless again.

He didn't resist.

Whatever fight had been in him moments ago had vanished, leaving only the quiet shell of a man too exhausted to protest.

Kyle watched in silence as his eldest brother was led off into the estate, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their boots fading into the distance.

A quiet sigh escaped behind him.

"I always knew Christan had a screw loose. But even I didn't think he'd snap like this."

Emelia said, stepping out from behind the hedges, arms folded as she looked after the departing figure.

Kyle turned to see his sister approach with a slow, graceful gait. She looked unfazed, but her brows were furrowed in thought.

"You were watching?"

Kyle asked, voice low.

Emelia shrugged.

"You two weren't exactly whispering."

Kyle looked away, guilt creeping into his chest.

Before he could say more, Emelia raised a hand.

"Don't bother trying to apologize. Christan's always been… fragile. No one really wanted to admit it, but he's never been right since he realized Father didn't see him as a proper heir."

Kyle stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond.

Emelia studied his expression, then softened her voice.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know… I'm on your side, Kyle."

He blinked.

"My side?"

She smiled faintly.

"Yes, yours. I don't care what the rumors say. You're marrying the Grand Duchess, and that means the entire world is watching. We can't afford another mess like today."

Her tone shifted, becoming more resolute.

"So, I'll take care of Christan. I'll make sure he doesn't ruin anything else. You've got enough on your plate without him setting fires behind you."

She continued.

Kyle gave her a surprised look.

"You'd do that?"

"I already said I'm on your side, didn't I? Besides, if he causes a scene at the wedding, Mother will faint and Father will kill someone. Probably him."

She rolled her eyes.

Despite himself, Kyle let out a tired chuckle.

Emelia stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Don't think too much about it. Just focus on the wedding. I'll handle Christan."

Kyle looked at her, truly looked at her—and for the first time in a long while, saw the steel beneath her polished grace.

"Thank you."

He murmured.

She smirked.

"You can repay me by not looking like a corpse on your wedding day. Sleep, eat, smile—pretend to be human for once."

He nodded faintly, and as Emelia turned and walked away, Kyle realized he wasn't alone in this after all.