The Queen’s Return: The Rise of a Multi-Talented Genius

Who would have thought that the queen destined to perish in flames would be reborn in a remote village in Elton—in the body of a girl who had died suddenly from heart failure. On the second floor of a modest farmhouse, Catherine examined herself in the mirror. The reflection showed an eighteen-year-old girl with cascading black hair, delicate features, and porcelain skin—a work of art carved by divine hands. "And I'm not the only one who's been reborn." Catherine closed her eyes. When she reopened them, lines of cold text materialized before her: [Objective: Complete 30 trial missions.] [Reward: Resurrect Lucas.] [Note: Previous combat abilities retained. Original heart condition removed.] [...Mission customization in progress...] "Like accepting a quest in an online game," she murmured, her dark eyes flickering with confusion before being consumed by overwhelming pain and regret. Lucas was her brother. She should have taken him with her when she escaped that hellish organization, but he had drugged her unconscious and returned alone, determined to buy her time to flee. When she awoke, she was already on the other side of the world, finally free. But her brother had been brutally tortured and killed by those monsters, refusing to break until his last breath. Catherine clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her palms. "If completing thirty missions can bring Lucas back... I'd do three hundred without hesitation." "Catherine, dinner's ready!" a gentle voice called from downstairs. Catherine turned and headed down. Her mother Grace was bustling in the kitchen while her father William helped nearby. Grace was around fifty, her face weathered by years of farm work. William was two years older, his skin bronzed from the sun—a simple, honest farmer. He looked at his daughter with concern. "Tell me the truth, sweetheart. Is someone at school giving you trouble?" Ever since starting high school, their daughter had become like a different person. No matter how much they asked, she always denied anything was wrong. "No," Catherine replied softly, lying. The original Catherine had indeed been bullied at school. But those problems—she would handle them herself. Grace pressed further: "What about young Master Harrison? How is he treating you? Has the Harrison family mentioned anything about an engagement party?" Catherine's eyes shifted slightly. Young Master Harrison referred to the heir of the Harrison Group, Grant City's largest conglomerate—and her nominal fiancé. The connection between the Williams family and such wealth traced back to their grandfathers' friendship. The two old men had grown up together in Brook Village, brothers in all but blood, and promised their children would marry. Due to various circumstances, this childhood betrothal had passed down to Catherine and young Master Harrison's generation. The Harrison family's business had flourished over the years, transforming them from struggling farmers into Grant City's elite. By all logic, the Harrisons should have quietly abandoned this rural engagement. But Old Master Harrison had always maintained that integrity was the foundation of business. Not only had he never snubbed the Williams family, he regularly sent gifts to the countryside. When he heard Catherine's grades were poor, he'd even enrolled her in Grant City's most prestigious private academy—Saint Crane Institute. Claiming it would help his grandson and Catherine "develop their relationship." Unfortunately, young Master Harrison hadn't inherited his grandfather's character. Catherine had endured three years of bullying at school without her supposed fiancé lifting a finger to help. With Old Master Harrison's passing earlier this year, talk of an engagement party had completely ceased. "There's no rush," William told his wife. "City folk have high standards. Young Master Harrison might not even be interested in our daughter. Besides, Catherine doesn't have to marry into wealth—it's her choice." "Exactly right," Grace nodded. "If Catherine doesn't want it, we wouldn't agree even if the Harrisons offered a hundred million!" Catherine ate in silence, not joining the conversation. This kind of parental care was... too foreign to her. After dinner, Grace came to Catherine's bedroom, repeatedly checking the items her daughter would take back to school, afraid she might forget something. Only after Catherine succumbed to drowsiness did Grace tiptoe out, turning off the lights. But the moment the door closed, Catherine's eyes snapped open. In the darkness, her gaze was sharp as a blade. "Blood and gunpowder in the wind." For someone who had lived at gunpoint and knife's edge, acute awareness was ingrained in her very bones. She was certain a firefight was happening in the mountains behind their house. Her earlier display of exhaustion had been to send her mother away. "Elton has strict gun control. Apart from official forces, anyone armed is definitely up to no good." "What's happening back there? Law enforcement pursuit? Gang warfare?" "Either way, it could endanger Grace and William. They're too close." A flash of lethal intent crossed Catherine's eyes. She slipped out the window with fluid grace, her figure like a hunting panther moving silently toward the mountains. The system had preserved her past life's skills as an international assassin. Soon, she discovered an elderly man behind some bushes, his thigh pierced by a tree branch. He bit down hard, cold sweat beading his forehead, but refused to make a sound. The old man wore military green, and the insignia on his shoulder made Catherine's pupils contract slightly. She recognized that emblem—it belonged to General Haines, one of Elton's founding heroes. In his youth, General Haines had led three hundred soldiers in a miraculous defeat of a hundred thousand enemy troops at the frontier, defending the homeland with blood and earning international renown. Even Catherine held deep respect for this old warrior. Which raised the question: Who would dare hunt down a national military commander on Elton soil? "Found you, Haines!" A bearded man emerged from around the corner, silenced rifle aimed at Haines's heart. "Sorry about this. But as they say: when you take someone's money, you do the job." Haines breathed heavily, his hawk-like eyes fixed on his attacker, inevitable sorrow filling his heart. To think that after a lifetime of service, he would die in such a pathetic way. Crunch— The sound of crushed leaves suddenly broke the silence. Both the gunman and Haines turned left to see an eighteen-year-old girl who had appeared behind the trees. She wore pink pajamas decorated with little rabbits, her long hair loose around her shoulders, stunningly beautiful. Only her eyes were too calm—unnaturally, chillingly calm. "Run!" Haines lunged forward, grabbing the gunman's legs while screaming at the girl. Protecting citizens was a duty carved into his very soul! This girl looked like a villager who'd stumbled upon them by accident—she had no idea how dangerous this was! "Damn it!" The gunman kicked Haines away and immediately swung his rifle toward the girl, finger on the trigger. His orders were crystal clear: the operation must remain secret. No witnesses. Perhaps frightened by the menacing barrel, the girl's knees bent slightly as she crouched down. The gunman's eyes flashed with contempt. Scared already? But in the next second— The girl exploded upward like a compressed spring, delivering a devastating roundhouse kick that sent the gunman flying. She seized the rifle in one fluid motion and pulled the trigger! Thud! The bullet found its mark between his eyes. In the moonlight, the girl stood sideways, rifle in one hand, her black hair whipping in the wind, her eyes radiating killing intent—cold as death incarnate! "You... you..." For the first time in decades, Haines stammered! This girl in adorable pajamas had disarmed a professional assassin with her bare hands and killed him with a single shot?! If he hadn't witnessed it himself, he never would have believed it! "Who the hell are you?!" Haines demanded, his entire body tense.