Reborn with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

Kyle stepped out of his father's study, inhaling deeply as if he had just emerged into the crisp morning air after being locked away in a suffocating room. 

The tension from the confrontation had already left his body, replaced by an exhilarating sense of satisfaction. 

He had expected resistance—perhaps even harsher punishment—but instead, he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

"Tsk, that man does not have the guts to banish his own flesh and blood. But I guess for a body as fragile as this one, war is as good as banishment anyway."

A quiet chuckle nearly escaped him as he remembered the look on Lord Armstrong's face.

His father had been completely thrown off by Kyle's willingness to embrace war. If the old man had intended to scare him into submission, he had failed miserably.

As Kyle walked down the hall, his butler, an older man with graying hair and a perpetually worried expression, rushed toward him.

His concern was written all over his face. 

"Young master! What happened? Are you alright? Do you need some kind of help? Any kind of help?"

Kyle turned to him with a smirk. 

"I'm better than alright. I got exactly what I wanted. There is no need for you to look so worried." 

He said. 

The butler's face brightened, albeit with lingering hesitation. 

"Then… congratulations, young master. May I ask what it is that you achieved?"

Kyle stretched lazily before answering, his voice light with amusement. 

"I'm going to war. Doesn't that sound like a fun time?"

The butler's eyes widened in shock. 

"Pardon?"

Kyle continued walking, leaving the butler momentarily frozen in place. After a second, the older man hurried after him, struggling to make sense of what he had just heard. 

"Young master, surely you jest? War is no place for—"

Kyle cut him off with a casual wave of his hand. 

"War suits me better than peace ever could."

The butler gaped at him, unable to comprehend his young master's words. 

It wasn't long ago that Kyle was the overlooked son of the Armstrong family, known for his frail body and lack of talent.

 What had changed? Why did he suddenly seem so… different?

He swallowed, trying to choose his words carefully. 

"Young master… what do you mean by that?"

Kyle glanced at him with an unreadable expression. 

"You don't need to know."

That response only deepened the butler's concern, but before he could press further, Kyle changed the subject. 

"I need you to prepare something for me."

"Of course, young master. What do you require?"

Kyle's next words made the butler stop in his tracks.

"Money. Also, take me to a slave house."

The butler's stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

"A… slave house?"

Kyle nodded, his face calm and unreadable. 

"Yes. I need to buy a slave."

The butler hesitated, gripping the edges of his sleeves as he thought over Kyle's request. 

A slave house? Of all places, why would his young master want to visit such an establishment? 

The idea itself was troubling, but even more unsettling was the fact that Kyle had never shown any interest in such things before.

He wanted to refuse outright. 

He wanted to tell Kyle that this was improper, that Lord Armstrong would be furious if he found out.

But deep down, the butler knew the truth—Kyle would find a way to do it regardless of his approval. 

If he refused, Kyle might simply ask someone else, and that would be even worse. 

Who knew what kind of reckless choices his young master would make if left to his own devices?

With a resigned sigh, the butler finally spoke.

"Very well, young master. I will take you to the slave house. However, you must promise me something."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"Promise me that you will not do anything reckless. Do not bring shame to the Armstrong family. If you want your desires to be fulfilled, please tell me. I will get you a woman from a respected place."

Kyle smiled, the expression a little too easy, a little too practiced. 

"You don't need to worry about it. What I am looking for…is something different."

The butler narrowed his eyes. 

Something about Kyle's response felt hollow, as if he had no intention of keeping that promise. 

But before he could question it, Kyle was already moving ahead, forcing the butler to follow behind.

______

The journey to the slave house was relatively quiet. 

The butler, despite his concerns, led Kyle through the less reputable part of town where such businesses operated.

Soon, they arrived in front of a large, grim-looking building with iron-barred windows and thick wooden doors. 

The air was heavy with the scent of unwashed bodies, and faint murmurs of the enslaved could be heard from within.

Kyle stepped inside without hesitation, his gaze sweeping over the dimly lit interior. 

Rows of slaves sat in orderly lines, their expressions dull and lifeless. Some were shackled, while others simply sat motionless, awaiting their fate. 

The butler shifted uncomfortably beside Kyle, watching his young master's reaction carefully.

Kyle, however, only looked bored.

"They're all too obedient. No spark at all." 

He murmured. 

He passed by several slaves, barely sparing them a glance. They were weak, docile, utterly broken. None of them were what he was looking for.

A well-dressed man, clearly the owner of the establishment, noticed Kyle's presence and hurried over with an ingratiating smile. 

"Welcome, young lord. How can I be of service?"

Kyle turned to him with mild interest. 

"I want to see the ones with a bit more fight in them."

The owner blinked in confusion.

"Pardon?"

"The ones who aren't so… obedient. I'm not interested in mindless servants." 

Kyle clarified. 

For a moment, the owner seemed unsure how to respond. Most buyers wanted the opposite—loyal, submissive slaves who wouldn't resist. 

But then, as if realizing something, his eyes lit up.

"Ah… I see."

Without another word, he gestured for Kyle to follow him. The butler's unease only grew stronger.

"Young master, I don't have a good feeling about this" 

He whispered urgently.

Kyle merely smirked and ignored him, stepping forward to follow the owner deeper into the slave house.