I Become a Secret Police Officer of The Imperial Academy

Chapter 30

I was just a typical tomboy from a rural village.

Even though my parents were nobles, they were just landlords. Unlike other families, we couldn’t even dream of buying extravagant decorations, jewels, or necklaces as if they were everyday items.

While we were well-off compared to most, a rich, rotund commoner probably lived far more comfortably than us.

I always thought that, when I grew up, I’d stay in this village with my brother, find a partner eventually, and grow old peacefully. That was until I discovered I had a talent for magic.

We weren’t exactly poor for nobles; we just weren’t wealthy.

Still, my parents used the money they had saved for my future marriage to send me to the Academy, saying I could always earn more money once I graduated.

And so, I ended up enrolling in the Academy rather abruptly.

I was full of hope, imagining that I might make new friends or meet someone amazing on my journey.

But at the entrance ceremony, I quickly realized that most people already had their groups or cliques. I sat alone, sulking at a distance.

Honestly, as someone from the countryside, even if I tried to talk to anyone, it felt futile.

While I sat there nervously tapping my legs in frustration, Ellen approached me.

She asked if it felt awkward not knowing anyone or talking to strangers.

At first, I found it ironic since she was a stranger to me too, and I laughed out loud.

That was my first meeting with Ellen.

Over time, just like with other kids, we gradually became closer.

We grew so close that it was hard to imagine being apart, as we are now.

Though I never visited Ellen’s house—when I once said I wanted to, she looked troubled and mentioned that everyone there, except her younger sister, was a bit odd—Ellen often came over to mine.

Unlike me, who was too scared to talk to anyone and sat quietly, Ellen quickly got along with my brother and parents.

How could she speak so naturally, so effortlessly?

How could she smile and enjoy conversations with people so easily, as if solving predetermined problems?

I’ll admit I felt a twinge of jealousy when I found out Ellen had a close senior male friend. But I was certain we were still best friends.

And besides, they didn’t seem to be dating!

Still, Ellen was so obviously interested in him, following him around like that. Was the senior oblivious, or just pretending not to notice?

Sometimes, when it was just me and Theo-senpai, his face made my heart flutter, but I didn’t want to interfere with my friend’s feelings.

Anyway, our group of five—Theo-senpai, Isabel-senpai, Diana-senpai, Ellen, and I—was always together outside of class.

We were so close that it felt like we should start a club or something.

Sometimes, it was just me and Ellen hanging out.

We’d sit across from each other in a café, holding hands and chatting over drinks.

Ellen would sneak up behind me, brush my neck, and whisper teasingly, or we’d accidentally get so close our lips brushed.

Ellen often played such mischievous pranks, to the point where it felt like we might be more than just friends.

That’s why I naively thought Ellen would never hurt me, no matter what she did.

Then one day…

A few days had passed since the demons burned the city.

I didn’t know much about what happened that day.

We’d been celebrating at the manor with the workers from the estate, eating, enjoying the harvest, and dancing to lively music.

Seeing smoke rising from the city, we just assumed it was a fire or maybe some rowdy festival revelry.

Furious citizens were lynching every demon they could find, tying them to posts and burning them alive. 

My parents, fearing they might come to our sorghum farm, took everyone and hid in the underground tunnels.

They gathered as much food, blankets, and fabric as they could, thinking it might be safe after a month.

During that time, my brother disappeared.

He left a note on the table in someone else’s handwriting, saying he’d gone to a nearby village to help our parents.

The next day, Ellen sent me a letter asking me to come to an abandoned building at the Academy.

I should have realized something was off, considering her handwriting was similar to the note my brother left.

But since it was Ellen, I would’ve gone regardless of how suspicious or strange it seemed.

Nothing would have changed.

I assumed she wanted comfort since she’d mentioned her parents and siblings had died. I brought plenty of sweet snacks and a few handkerchiefs, only to end up crying because of Ellen instead.

Life can be unpredictable, can’t it? Though this time, it turned bad for me.

I thought Ellen was my closest friend.

I believed that, no matter what she said or did, I’d try to understand her.

Even if I couldn’t understand, I’d at least accept it.

But that was probably presumptuous of me.

Ellen never confided in me, never revealed her secrets, never explained what she was doing or planning to do.

She just kept hurting me, acting as if killing demons was all that mattered, as if I didn’t matter at all.

Despite this, I begged for mercy, asking her if we were still friends.

Rather than deny it, she said that if we were friends, I should tell her where my parents were hiding.

Her eyes were unsettling.

Even with light shining on her, they were unfocused, dull, and sunken.

They resembled the eyes of angry townsfolk hurling stones at demons but without the fiery emotion—just a hollow, broken gaze.

If I told her, my parents and everyone hiding with them on the farm would end up like those demons, beaten and killed.

So, I pretended not to know.

Ellen and I were friends.

From the day we met, to the day I was hung upside down, to the day she poured water over me and threatened me, even when she broke down entirely.

That “friend” tortured me with waterboarding.

She took my brother, cut off his fingers, and tortured him even worse than me.

Pretending not to know was no longer an option.

My brother must have confessed everything.

He probably valued my safety more than his own.

I felt a strange mix of gratitude and betrayal, crying endlessly.

Ellen imprisoned my parents in the underground tunnels and treated them cruelly.

She killed everyone we’d known since childhood.

She shot Mr. and Mrs. Hanton, who had always been so kind and shared their meals with us.

She even tried to kill the child I’d grown up with since I was little.

Then she released me, acting like nothing had happened.

Ellen pointed a gun at me and said she didn’t care if I told everyone she was a monster.

Though she also warned that anyone who heard it would end up like me—locked underground.

Was she still my friend?

I wasn’t sure anymore.

I went to the mansion to stop what my friend was doing.

It seems she killed her brother.

And after losing her family—perhaps, just maybe—she’s selling her body.

That’s probably because of me.

Even so, are we still friends?

Neither Ellen nor I outright denied it, but calling this “friendship” felt difficult, to say the least.

The first time I was strung upside down and punched in the solar plexus, I couldn’t help but think, why?

And as time passed, watching what happened to Ellen and witnessing her fall, I found myself asking the same question.

But I never said it out loud.

I didn’t know exactly what Ellen had been through or what she had seen that day.

Perhaps I was clinging to an illusion all on my own.

Ellen might think of me as nothing more than a stupid girl—not even a friend.

I resented her for the way she treated my brother, for forcibly taking my parents, and for slaughtering the people from the farm who were dear to us.

And yet, I still liked Ellen.

No one else in my short life had ever drawn my attention as much as she did.

Yes, Ellen was special to me!

I liked seeing her chuckle to herself while reading a book by the window, then glance around embarrassedly as if caught.

I liked how she’d subtly shift to the crowded side of the path so I could walk comfortably.

I liked how she’d dance to street music, trying out unfamiliar moves as we walked.

Her humming after enjoying a delicious cup of coffee was so pleasant to listen to, I sometimes thought she could be a singer.

I liked how, when a random child bumped into her and ruined her white clothes with snacks, she didn’t get angry but instead bought the child another treat and handed it to them gently.

I liked her intelligence, solving questions even seniors struggled with and explaining them so effortlessly when we studied together.

And I liked the warmth I felt when we leaned our heads on each other’s shoulders.

I liked the cool sensation of her hands when we held them.

That’s what a first true friend is like, isn’t it?

Sometimes, Ellen felt like a cool guy to me.

Maybe Ellen was an ideal or a role model to me—someone I looked up to.

And now, to think that such an Ellen might be selling her body!

I couldn’t accept it.

I would help her.

Even if it meant forcing her to accept my help.

After all, Ellen had done the same for me.