SSS Ranked Merchant: Rebuilding a Broken Kingdom With Unlimited Wealth Chapter 31: I’m A Transmigrator

After everything that had happened, an unfamiliar coldness settled over the house. It was an aching emptiness, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once felt in this world.

The love, the security—it had been torn away overnight, leaving behind a silence that pressed down on her like an unbearable weight.

She couldn’t stand it.

Her mother was probably still crying, and she felt selfish for wanting to be away, but she couldn’t bear the crack in their ho, the quiet sobs that echoed through the walls.

So she was here, in Usario’s study, staring blankly at the bookshelves while sothing in her clenched and twisted, sothing she couldn’t quite na.

Usario sat in the corner, watching her.

There was nothing he could say—nothing that would make this easier, nothing that wouldn’t feel like an insult to a child who had just witnessed her world crumble before her eyes.

And yet, he was confused.

"Child, I don’t know what to say..." he admitted at last.

"You don’t have to say anything." Her voice was low, tight. If anyone dared to offer her pity right now, she felt like she might throw sothing at them.

Usario exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Even as an old man, I wouldn’t know how to pave the way for you." He paused before sitting on the bed, looking at her carefully. "No child should have to bear this."

"I’m not Lyrasia."

He frowned. For a mont, the words made sense, but at the sa ti, they didn’t. "...Explain."

"I’m a transmigrator," she said simply. "I’m not a child. I’m a thirty-one-year-old in an infant’s body. I died and woke up here."

Silence.

The words sank in, and sothing inside Usario clicked into place. He thought back to her odd mannerisms—the way she spoke, the way her gaze was too sharp, too tired for a child.

Those were not the eyes of soone who had only lived a handful of years.

They were the eyes of soone who had seen too much.

Soone who had already lived and lost.

"Hold on," he muttered, inhaling deeply. "I need a mont."

It all made too much sense, but at the sa ti, his mind struggled to grasp it.

A child possessed by the soul of an adult? Had she been soone of importance before? Was this a trick? But no—he had seen liars, seen deceivers, and this was neither.

And she was watching him again. Those sa eyes, unblinking. Serious.

"Why are you telling this?" he asked at last.

"So you don’t have to feel bad when guiding ," she answered. "You don’t have to be moral."

Usario stared at her, caught between unease and understanding. "First, tell ..." he exhaled, leaning forward, his voice quieter now. "What happened?"

And so she told him.

She told him everything. About her previous life, her childhood in poverty, the business she built, the success she clawed her way to. She spoke of her downfall, the betrayal, the despair that swallowed her whole. She spoke of her death.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t falter.

The words ca so naturally, so effortlessly, that there was no room for doubt.

Usario listened. And by the ti she finished, he no longer saw a child before him. He saw sothing else entirely.

"Then... what do you seek?""If the world thrives on theft, let be the serpent that strikes back."

"...Fine," he said, patting the girl’s head with an amused, almost paternal sigh.

"Why are you patting ? I told you I’m not a child," she snapped, her tone laced with frustration.

"I’m still much older than you," he chuckled. "To , you’re still a child..."

At that, her eyes welled up with tears that shimred like shards of broken glass. The sudden, overwhelming sorrow stread down her cheeks in trembling rivulets.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and she let out a heart-wrenching cry—a sound so raw and desperate that it seed to echo the weight of all her unspoken regrets.

"My advice for now is to lay low. It can’t be known that there’s a scheming infant sowhere...." he softly chuckles, sighing. "But... Tell , if you were to encounter soone offering you a deal too good to be true, what would you do?"

She paused, sniffling while considering. "I would scrutinize every detail," she answered firmly. "I wouldn’t trust them until I’d extracted every possible ounce of value from the situation. Deals are rely opportunities waiting to be exploited."

"And if a friend were to betray you—say, steal from you or mislead you—what then?"

"Friends are expendable. Betrayal is not a wound to be mourned, but a lesson to be exploited. I learn from every slight." Her voice was calm, almost chillingly so, and for a mont Usario almost looked uncomfortable with her bluntness.

"Very well," he said softly. "Now, consider this scenario: You possess a powerful secret—a knowledge that could turn the tables in your favor—but sharing it might cost you dearly. Would you reveal it, or would you guard it jealously?"

"I would never allow anyone to weaken my position. Secrets are currency, and I intend to be wealthy."

"But tell , Lyrasia, why do you feel this need to extract value from every interaction? What drives you?"

"I only have my resolve and the things I have to protect. Everything else is collateral."

"That will be all."

Then, the next day arrived.

She sat alone beneath an ancient oak, its gnarled branches offering shelter near a babbling river.

Suddenly, a pained "Raggh!" shattered the serene silence.

Curiosity piqued, she rose and followed the sound until she discovered the source: a crudely set trap hidden in the underbrush.

Peering into the snare, she saw a small bunny, its soft fur ruffled in disarray.

"Ah, a bunny..." she murmured.

She leaned down, her slender fingers trailing delicately along its fur, marveling at the creature’s fragile beauty.

But the bunny was no longer alive.

"What a sha. You fell for my trap," she said, almost tenderly, as she gently tugged its floppy ears.

Her gaze drifted to a cluster of apples dangling temptingly from a low-hanging branch nearby.

They were poisoned.