Chapter 53: The Rythundeir Household

The Rythundeir flagship departed Planet V-17 under heavy Imperial surveillance. Even after leaving the barren, desolate world behind, Rhaevia could still feel the strange connection humming deep within her Guide core.

The ancient formation on the planet’s surface had awakened under her touch, yet her official classification remained frustratingly undefined. Somewhere out in the vast expanse of the galaxy, someone had deliberately sealed every record bearing her name.

Yet, strangely enough, none of those looming threats occupied her mind as the massive vessel entered hyperspace. Instead, she found herself surrounded by her family.

Her three older brothers had practically refused to leave her side from the moment she boarded, acting as an unyielding wall of protection. One sat directly across from her, another stood near the reinforced viewport, and the youngest had already asked three times whether she felt dizzy.

"I told you, I’m fine," Rhaevia said, letting out a soft sigh as she leaned back against the plush leather seating.

"You said that on V-17 too," her second brother replied, leaning his arms against his knees as he fixed her with a sharp, uncompromising look. "And back then, you were covered in dust and blood."

Rhaevia met his gaze squarely. "I survived."

"That’s beside the point," he countered immediately.

She stared back at him in disbelief. For someone built like an elite military operative who looked capable of intimidating an entire battalion on his own, her second brother was surprisingly persistent.

Before she could offer another rebuttal, the automated cabin door hissed open. Her mother, the Duchess of the Rythundeir Ducal House, stepped smoothly into the private quarters. The moment Rhaevia saw her, her body froze slightly in surprise.

The powerful woman carried none of the icy, commanding presence she typically displayed before imperial outsiders. Instead, she was carefully holding a silver tray laden with fresh food.

"I prepared something for you," her mother said softly, stepping toward the central dining table.

Rhaevia blinked, her eyes darting between the tray and her mother’s elegant posture. "You made this? Yourself?"

Her mother raised a single polished eyebrow, a faint, wry curve resting on her lips. "Is that really so surprising?"

"A little," Rhaevia admitted honestly.

Her three brothers immediately looked amused, brief grins breaking out across their faces at their sister’s blunt reaction. Ignoring her sons’ lighthearted amusement, the Duchess gently placed the tray onto the table.

Steam rose softly from several meticulously crafted dishes, carrying a rich, comforting aroma into the cabin.

"You need to eat," her mother insisted softly, motioning toward the place setting.

Rhaevia looked down at the steaming food, then looked back up at her mother. "You personally prepared all of this?"

"Of course I did," her mother replied. Her expression softened, the strict decorum of high nobility melting away into genuine maternal warmth. "You’ve been through more than enough, Rhaevia."

Something tight and constricted inside Rhaevia’s chest suddenly relaxed. She slowly picked up the silver utensils, taking a small bite of the dish before her. The food was warm, simple, and deeply comforting.

For some unexplainable reason, the taste reminded her of something distant, something buried deep within a past she could no longer remember. She lowered her eyes and continued eating, savoring the peaceful stillness.

Across the table, her father sat in silence. The Duke of Rythundeir, a man whose name carried immense weight across the entire Southern Star Domain, had barely uttered a word since they had boarded the flagship.

Instead, his stern, watchful attention had remained fixed on her.

Rhaevia eventually noticed his unyielding gaze and paused mid-bite.

"Father?" she asked softly.

He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, his dark eyes slowly closed, and a faint, imperceptible wave of immense mental energy rippled through the air of the room.

Rhaevia’s instincts flared instantly, her Guide core recognizing the subtle intrusion. He was gently scanning her consciousness, probing for any underlying trauma or instability.

After a lingering moment, her father slowly opened his eyes.

"There is no obvious instability in her mental domain," he pronounced calmly.

Her mother turned to him immediately, her voice laced with concern. "And her Guide core?"

"Stable," her father confirmed with a curt nod.

Rhaevia slowly set her utensils back down against the plate, setting her jaw. "You’re checking my mental state without even asking me first?"

Her father looked at her calmly, unbothered by her faint irritation.

"I am your father." He paused for a brief beat before adding, "Of course I am checking on you."

Rhaevia opened her mouth, but found herself at a loss for how to respond. Beside her, her three brothers nodded in unified agreement with their father’s logic.

The gesture was so natural to them, so ordinary. Yet for her, receiving this level of unearned protection was unfamiliar.

She had spent a previous lifetime on Earth as humanity’s final weapon, the feared General who carried the weight of a dying civilization on her shoulders.

Back then, nobody had ever bothered to check whether the Crimson Reaper had eaten. Nobody had ever stood watch beside her bed, and nobody had ever gently asked if she was frightened.

If she had fallen back then, she would have simply been replaced by another soldier. But this family was different. They didn’t care about her military standing, her awakening as a Sovereign Guide, or her potential to shatter interstellar power structures.

They cared whether she was hungry, whether her body was injured, and whether she was truly alive. Rhaevia slowly lowered her gaze to her lap, her thoughts drifting backward. Even when I was an E-rank...

She remembered the fragments of memory belonging to the original owner of this body, the girl the academy had mocked and discarded as useless trash.

She remembered how the original Rhaevia had been sneered at for possessing no meaningful elemental ability, considered an embarrassment to a prestigious ducal house. Yet despite the public ridicule, these people had never once abandoned her.

They had protected her, loved her, and waited patiently for her to come home, even when she had believed herself to be worthless. Rhaevia’s fingers tightened securely around her utensils.

Perhaps she had misunderstood something fundamental about this world. The Rythundeir family had never treated her like an embarrassment. The original girl had simply been too overwhelmed by her own perceived inadequacies to recognize the depth of their devotion.

A profound, genuine warmth slowly spread through Rhaevia’s chest, dispelling the lingering chill of Planet V-17. She raised her head and looked around the warm cabin.

Her mother was watching her with soft eyes, her father sat nearby like an unbreakable shield, and her three brothers were already bickering good-naturedly over who would get to escort her to her upcoming medical scans.

For the very first time since waking up in this interstellar era, these people didn’t feel like strangers occupying a borrowed life. They felt like hers.

My family, she thought.

The realization struck her with surprising, overwhelming force. Rhaevia quickly lowered her head, attempting to hide the small, rare smile that was beginning to form on her lips.

Her mother noticed instantly. She always noticed.

Later that evening, after her brothers had finally been ushered out of the room to settle their heated arguments over security deployments with the ship’s guards, the Duchess quietly approached where Rhaevia was resting.

"Come here, sweetheart," her mother murmured softly, extending a hand.

Rhaevia obeyed without hesitation, stepping forward. Her mother gently raised her arm and placed her warm palm directly against Rhaevia’s forehead. A familiar, soothing wave of Guide energy began to flow gently between them, checking her internal pathways.

Then, without warning, her mother’s expression abruptly changed. Her breath hitched, and her deep blue eyes widened in sudden, sheer shock. Through the delicate mental link, a violent, foreign image flashed directly into the Duchess’s mind.

She saw a burning world crumbling under a crimson sky, vast battlefields covered in endless corpses, and a lonely woman standing amidst the ruins holding a bloodstained sword over a dying civilization.

She saw a younger version of Rhaevia standing atop a mountain of fallen beasts, a cold, hardened general who had survived an apocalypse. It was not the cherished daughter her family knew. It was a monster born from absolute tragedy.

The terrifying vision vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. Her mother’s hand trembled violently against Rhaevia’s forehead before slowly slipping away. She stumbled back a half-step, staring at her daughter in utter disbelief and heartbreak.

"Rhaevia..." her mother whispered, her voice dropping into an unusually quiet, trembling murmur. "That... that wasn’t your memory."