The Trash Guide Awakens: The Youngest General's Hidden Wife

The luminous characters gradually dissolved into the dark alloy walls, leaving behind the steady, rhythmic pulse of the Sovereign Relic.

THE QUEEN WILL RETURN.

For several breath-stealing seconds, nobody in the ancient vault moved. The interwoven streams of crimson, azure, and silver energy continued to circulate around the heart-shaped crystal, casting long, shifting shadows across the family’s stunned faces.

Rhaevia broke the silence, raising one hand to point directly at the floating projection. Her expression hardened into a look of absolute, unyielding deadpan.

”No,” she stated flatly.

Every member of her family turned toward her in complete unison. She kept her finger pointed at the glowing script, her eyebrows drawing together.

”I am not accepting that,” she declared.

Her youngest brother blinked, looking back and forth between her and the wall. ”Accepting what?”

”That,” Rhaevia repeated, jabbing her finger through the air. ”That specific word.”

Her second brother stared at her before a sudden, genuine laugh burst from his chest. It was a loud, sharp sound that echoed off the ancient metal bulkheads, shattering the heavy atmosphere.

”An ancient galactic civilization just recognized you as their long-lost ruler, and that is the part you take issue with?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

”Yes,” Rhaevia replied without a single moment of hesitation.

Her eldest brother folded his arms over his broad chest, the corner of his mouth curving upward into an uncharacteristic smirk. ”And why, exactly, are you rejecting an imperial title?”

”Because I have zero interest in being a queen,” she said, crossing her own arms.

Her youngest brother’s grin widened instantly, his eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. ”I don’t know, sister, it sounds ridiculously impressive.”

”I don’t care how it sounds.”

”Your Majesty,” he said, dramatically lowering his voice to a formal tone.

Rhaevia’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. ”Don’t start.”

Her youngest brother immediately straightened his back, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed deeply at the waist. ”Whatever you command, Your Majesty.”

”Stop it.”

”As the Queen decrees!”

”I am warning you.”

”Queen Rhaevia of the Interstellar Domain--”

Rhaevia reached down, grabbed a discarded piece of metallic scrap from a nearby crate, and raised her arm. Her youngest brother didn’t even wait for her to throw it, instantly spinning on his heel and sprinting toward the corridor.

”Don’t you dare!” she shouted, taking two quick steps after him.

Laughter erupted throughout the sealed chamber, the sound bright and ringing against the ancient stone pedestal. Their mother covered her mouth with delicate fingers, trying and failing to hide her warm, helpless smile.

Their father stood near the pedestal, attempting to maintain his stern, formidable Duke persona, but his shoulders shook with amusement as he shook his head.

Raevor remained standing near the back bulkhead, maintaining his usual stoic posture as he watched the family dynamic unfold. Yet, despite his best efforts to remain an impartial military observer, a faint curve had touched the corner of his lips.

Rhaevia caught the movement immediately, her eyes snapping toward him. ”You too, Major General?”

The general’s face instantly went blank, his posture stiffening into military perfection. ”I said nothing.”

”You were smiling,” she accused, pointing a finger at him.

”I was not.”

”You absolutely were.”

Her youngest brother peeked his head back around the vault door, pointing dramatically at Raevor. ”I saw it too! The cold General actually cracked a smile!”

Raevor glanced sideways at the younger Rythundeir brother, his dark eyes cool and unbothered. ”You are remarkably observant.”

”So you admit it!” the youngest brother cheered, stepping back inside the vault.

”I admitted to nothing,” Raevor replied dryly.

Rhaevia looked between her brothers and the Major General, letting out a long, dramatic exhale. For a woman who had spent years surviving apocalypses, commanding dying legions, and beheading monster kings, managing this room was somehow far more exhausting.

”My family is entirely ridiculous,” she muttered aloud.

Her eldest brother walked up beside her, clapping a heavy, supportive hand onto her shoulder. ”Finally, you realize the truth.”

Something deep inside Rhaevia’s chest softened, the cold knot of tension she had carried for days finally unraveling. Only moments ago, this ancient vault had felt suffocating, weighed down by centuries of forgotten bloodlines and impossible galactic duties.

Yet now, despite the floating Sovereign Relic and the terrifying implications of her awakening, the room felt strangely light.

Her brothers continued their noisy debate, arguing over whether ”Queen” was a fitting title or if they should craft a completely new one for her.

Her youngest brother insisted it sounded regal, her second brother argued she was far too stubborn to be a proper monarch, and her eldest brother calmly stated that if any outsider dared address her as Queen without her express permission, he would personally ensure they regretted breathing.

Their mother watched them with soft, quiet affection, while their father pretended to study the ancient inscriptions to hide his pride.

Rhaevia stood in the center of the ring, listening to the crossfire of voices. For the first time since opening her eyes in this interstellar era, she did not feel like an actor playing a role on a stage. She belonged here.

She looked at her brothers, the three formidable men who had rushed to her side the moment her trial ended, ignoring military protocols and political danger just to reach her.

They hadn’t interrogated her about her sudden surge in power, nor had they demanded to know how an E-rank Guide had shattered the academy’s testing equipment.

They hadn’t cared about her rank, her classification, or the ancient names spoken by forgotten planetary formations. They had simply grabbed her shoulders and asked if she was hurt, if she was eating properly, and if she was frightened.

They had hugged her, shielded her, teased her, and fought alongside her. Now, they were standing inside a forbidden ancestral vault, casually joking about an ancient civilization naming her their sovereign.

Rhaevia lowered her gaze, staring at her delicate, unblemished palms. I have never had this before.

In her past life on Earth, she had commanded thousands of desperate human survivors. She had owned loyal soldiers, trusted comrades, and brave subordinates who would gladly lay down their lives for her orders.

Yet, despite their loyalty, there had always been an unbridgeable distance built of military rank and survival necessity. She had always been the commander standing at the front lines, the unbreakable shield tasked with protecting everyone else, but never someone who was protected in return.

Her fingers curled slowly into tight fists as a strange, overwhelming warmth flooded her veins. Here, in this world, she did not have to be the strongest person in the room at all times.

She didn’t need to issue orders, predict enemy movements, or calculate survival percentages. She could simply sit at a family dinner, complain about her brothers’ foolishness, and allow herself to be teased.

She could laugh freely. She could be a daughter, a sister, and a person whose life was considered precious simply because she existed.

Her Guide core responded to her emotions with a gentle, soothing pulse. It was not the violent, earth-shaking energy of a Sovereign awakening, nor was it the sharp, deadly resonance of battlefield synchronization.

It was quiet, steady, and deeply human.

Rhaevia smiled, a small, soft expression that she didn’t try to hide.

Her mother noticed immediately. The Duchess watched her daughter in stillness for several seconds, her warm eyes softening with profound emotion.

Stepping forward, her mother reached out and gently smoothed a lock of hair behind Rhaevia’s ear. ”You’re smiling, sweetheart.”

Rhaevia blinked, looking up into her mother’s face. ”Am I?”

”Yes,” her mother whispered softly, her thumb brushing against Rhaevia’s cheek. ”I haven’t seen you smile like that since you were a very little girl.”

Rhaevia’s throat tightened slightly, a sudden lump forming in her neck. She opened her mouth to offer a lighthearted deflection, but the words caught in her chest.

Instead, she turned her head to look back at her family. Her youngest brother was currently demonstrating how a ”Sovereign Guide” should walk, while her second brother was actively threatening to throw him into the ship’s waste disposal chute.

Her eldest brother watched the scuffle with amusement, occasionally offering advice on how to improve the throw. Slightly behind them, Raevor stood, his sharp, dark eyes watching over her with an unspoken, protective vigilance.

He didn’t feel like an outsider anymore either. He had seamlessly slipped into the protective boundary her family had built around her.

Rhaevia let out a long breath, allowing her shoulders to relax. Perhaps this was what a real family was meant to feel like, not an obligation of blood nor a cold ancestral contract, but simply people who chose to stay.

People who laughed with you, worried when you bled, and stood between you and the rest of the galaxy without ever asking what you could give them in return.

For a long moment, she allowed herself to sink into the comfort of it, soaking in the ambient noise of her brothers’ bickering.

Then, her mother’s posture subtly shifted. The playful warmth in her eyes slowly gave way to a deeper, far more serious light.

She looked down at Rhaevia, not as a duchess addressing an heir, and not as an ancestral guardian serving a bloodline, but purely as a mother who knew her child was hiding a painful truth.

Her fingers gently tightened over Rhaevia’s shoulder, drawing her away from the commotion.

”Rhaevia,” her mother called softly, her voice barely carrying above the chatter.

Rhaevia turned back to face her, sensing the sudden shift in the air.

Her mother searched her face, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking mixture of love, sorrow, and quiet understanding. After a long, heavy pause, she lowered her voice to a whisper.

”What happened to you in your previous life?”