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

The morning after the grand feast, the kitchen of the Adam estate was quiet—not with peace, but with tension.

The clatter of knives and chatter of servants was replaced with hushed whispers and worried glances.

The larders were bare compared to yesterday, and even the advanced emergency reserves—carefully stored for the worst of winters—had been cracked into.

The head chef, a stout man with more years in the Adam kitchen than Lady Rose had in her life, stood at the center of the room with his arms crossed.

"If we cook like we did yesterday, we'll be out of flour and oil before week's end. And meat… don't even speak of it."

He muttered to his assistants.

A junior cook nervously bit her lip.

"Do we… tell her?"

The room went still. No one wanted to be the one to suggest it. Lady Rose's temper was infamous in the servants' hall, and pride—sharp and unyielding—ran in her blood.

Just as they were weighing their options, the kitchen door swung open.

Lady Rose entered, dressed impeccably, her expression calm but her voice carrying that unshakable edge.

"I hope you are already planning something fitting for today. Yesterday's banquet was satisfactory. Let us keep up the momentum. Double the servings if you must. We have guests, and the Adam name will not be diminished in hospitality."

She said, sweeping her gaze over the staff.

Several kitchen hands exchanged panicked looks. The head chef inhaled slowly, as if preparing for battle.

"My lady, with respect, we cannot keep serving meals of that scale. Our stores are low—dangerously low—and if we continue like this, we will not have enough to feed the household come next week."

He began cautiously.

The air turned cold. Lady Rose's eyes narrowed.

"Are you refusing my orders, Chef?"

"I am protecting your household. This is my duty, even if it displeases you."

He replied firmly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her voice rose with icy authority.

"Guard! Take him and give him twenty lashes for insubordination."

The guard at the door stiffened. After a pause, he stepped forward—not to seize the chef, but to bow his head to Lady Rose.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I must decline. The chef is right. It would be wrong to punish him for speaking the truth."

The silence that followed was heavy. Lady Rose's face hardened, her pride struck like a blow.

"So even you turn against me. Cowards, all of you. Traitors to your mistress."

She said, her voice laced with contempt.

She spun on her heel, her skirts whispering against the stone floor, ready to storm out—

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Steady. Unhurried.

A moment later, Kyle stepped into the doorway. His gaze swept over the room, catching the tension like a predator sniffing the air. From his expression, it was clear he had heard enough.

"I see there's a problem. Let me make it simple. Today, the kitchen will prepare a light meal. My party is training, and heavy food will only slow us down."

He said, his tone calm but edged.

The kitchen staff looked visibly relieved, some even daring to exhale audibly.

Lady Rose, however, froze.

"There's no need for pity, Lord Kyle. I can afford to feed you and your people properly. I will not have my pride as a noble questioned by anyone—least of all you."

She snapped.

Kyle met her glare with one of his own, though his tone remained even.

"Forget your useless pride. Feed your people. That's your job as a noble—if you still remember what that means."

The words struck deeper than any insult.

Lady Rose's hands clenched at her sides.

"I always think about my people."

His gaze didn't waver.

"It sure doesn't look like it."

For a heartbeat, the two stood in silent defiance—her pride against his blunt truth—while the kitchen staff waited, breath held, wondering who would break first.

Kyle's calm yet persistent interference throughout the day had worn away Lady Rose's patience.

She had tried to play the gracious hostess, to maintain control of her household as she always had, but every move she made was shadowed by him—observing, commenting, even correcting. It was humiliating.

Finally, after a tense silence that lasted a touch too long, she took a steady breath and forced a polite smile.

"Lord Armstrong, while I appreciate your… concern, I must ask you not to linger here unnecessarily. My staff is loyal to me, and I am more than capable of managing them without outside intervention."

She said sweetly.

Her voice held the refined tone of nobility, but underneath, her words were firm, almost clipped.

Kyle, lounging back in his chair, gave a soft sigh.

"If it had been the old me, I would have looked the other way. Your affairs would have been your own, and I wouldn't have spared them a thought."

He began, his gaze sharp but his voice almost casual.

Lady Rose felt a flicker of relief—until he continued.

"But as the Grand Duke, it is my duty to look after the people. All of them. That includes your staff, your servants, and those you think no one notices."

He said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locking on hers.

Her polite mask wavered.

"You presume much—"

"I act as I must. And if you continue to be this stubborn, I will have no choice but to remove you as a noble altogether."

Kyle cut in smoothly, his tone unshaken.

The words struck harder than she expected. They weren't shouted. They weren't even said with malice. But there was no mistaking the weight behind them.

Her breath caught. For the first time in years, she felt the ground shift under her feet. Kyle wasn't bluffing—she could see that in the steady calm of his gaze.

The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.

Finally, Lady Rose exhaled softly, lowering her eyes.

"...Very well. It seems I have no choice but to yield this time."

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Kyle's lips—not of triumph, but of acknowledgment.

In that moment, Lady Rose realized she had lost this round. And more importantly, she understood that Kyle Armstrong was not a man one could control through charm, rank, or games.

Lady Rose's lips pressed into a thin line, her pride clearly stung.

For a moment, she looked as though she might argue again, but Kyle's calm, unflinching gaze left no room for defiance.

Her fingers tightened around the folds of her dress.

"Very well. If that is how the Grand Duke wishes it, then I will… comply."

She said quietly, though her voice trembled with restrained anger.

Kyle didn't smile, didn't gloat.

"Good. Then we can start fixing the damage before it worsens."

He replied simply, his tone even.

He stepped past her without waiting for an escort, moving toward the wounded servants in the corner.

Lady Rose watched his back, frustration and a strange, reluctant respect mixing in her expression.

She had thought she could keep him at arm's length, but his presence was like an unmovable wall—calm, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.

For the first time, she realized she had underestimated him.

When Kyle knelt beside an injured maid and began speaking softly to her, Lady Rose turned away, hiding the faint heat rising to her cheeks.

She had lost this round… but she told herself it wouldn't happen again.