I Become a Secret Police Officer of The Imperial Academy

Chapter 45

A corpse of someone who took their own life was far more horrific than one shot and killed by another.

The arms that had been moving just moments ago now hung limply, and blood gushed uncontrollably from the crown of her head and her nose.

Even so, Ellen’s faint smile remained, giving her face an uncanny look.

Moments later, her body hit the floor with a sickening thud, amplified by the pooling blood beneath her.

Her half-lidded eyes and faint smile made her seem no different than she had been before that night fell.

Isabel shakily raised her staff and cast healing magic on us, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed where she stood.

She sat there, her mouth slightly open, staring at Ellen’s lifeless body.

Diana, on the other hand, seemed unaffected—or maybe she was just pretending.

She was the first to get up, walking toward the room where the skinned demon had emerged.

With a spell, she unlocked the door.

I don’t know what she saw inside, but she fell to her knees immediately.

The metallic scent of blood, already heavy in the air, intensified the moment the door was opened.

It must have been a horrific sight.

“Is this something a girl our age could even handle…?”

But Ellen said it herself—games, anime, and movie posters.

She even told us how she lived.

“Why the hell was I born into this shitty world when I was perfectly fine where I was!?”

Honestly, I think I might’ve been happier being born here.

Listening to snippets of her story, it’s impossible to grasp the full weight of her suffering.

She mentioned liking John Wick.

I haven’t seen it, so I don’t know much.

I just remember my friends going on about how great it was.

“…I preferred musicals over action films,” I muttered, my voice trembling as blood pooled in my mouth.

Chicago, Moulin Rouge, The Greatest Showman…

I’d been stabbed through my back and lungs; the blood gushed up to my mouth and splattered onto Isabel’s face as she tried to heal me.

I used to be so cheerful.

When did I become so dark?

It’s my fault. I left Ellen alone.

“Theo, don’t speak,” I said weakly.

Theo nodded.

The pain and sensation of my wounds knitting together were strange yet familiar—like my body being reassembled.

I’d always thought it fascinating, the way life seemed to return even to those who’d been shredded.

Sure, it hurt, but it was… mesmerizing.

How could you find pain anything but unbearable?

Yet Ellen must’ve endured worse every day of her childhood, every single day.

It all made sense now.

The time her arm was torn off, and she remained calm without screaming.

The time she was beaten and trampled in the academy’s back alleys but didn’t flinch.

What is this feeling?

Emptiness?

Despair?

Before the demons caused all that chaos, life had been simple.

There was a clear villain to fight, and no matter how hard it got, defeating them meant everything was resolved.

It was like a student solving a straightforward test and feeling accomplished afterward.

But now, everything feels so complicated.

If someone asked me, Who’s the evil one here?, I’d have to say Ellen.

Yet, was this truly the best outcome?

Looking at Ethel clutching Ellen’s body and sobbing, I can’t believe that.

“Isabel, you can heal her, can’t you?

You can heal any wound, so why aren’t you healing Ellen?! Fix her, please!”

“…She’s already dead.

And even if she weren’t, I wouldn’t bring her back. Not ever.”

Ethel’s tear-streaked face froze, her expression hardening like stone.

Tears continued to fall, but her voice came out quietly.

“Why not…?”

Isabel didn’t answer, instead pointing toward where Diana had collapsed by the room.

“Wh-what does that matter? She’s still our friend… she’s Ellen!”

“Shut up, Ethel. Healing magic doesn’t bring the dead back to life.”

Ethel stopped crying. She gently closed Ellen’s eyes and used a handkerchief to wipe the blood off her face.

When she laid Ellen flat, the blood that had been flowing like a faucet from her nose and mouth finally stopped.

“Theo, stay lying down for at least ten minutes.”

“…Alright.”

“I’ll check the rest of the house.

There might still be survivors, like last time.”

With that, Isabel began searching the sprawling house.

No matter where you looked, it didn’t feel like a place where people should have lived.

I shouldn’t think this, but…

Maybe I’m weaker than I thought.

For the sake of my own comfort, I’m ready to say something that will surely wound someone else.

“Ethel, you were the one who said Ellen must’ve been forced into this by her pimp, didn’t you?”

“…Y-yeah. I did.”

“If we hadn’t come to ‘save’ her… if we’d left her alone…”

I trailed off.

“I bet she would’ve been fine.

Ellen was better than anyone at pretending everything was okay.”

“Right! She could’ve kept pretending, and—no. No.”

A sudden gunshot from the old butler had convinced us Ellen was trapped here against her will.

And yet…

Would someone as skilled as her captors stoop to human trafficking?

We should’ve known better.

It’s my fault.

It’s all my fault.

But I don’t want to accept that.

I wish someone else were to blame.

I wish it were all just the villains’ fault, as it had always been.

But no—it’s my fault for leaving Ellen alone.

This is all my fault.

Unable to find solace in either resolution, I’ve become a half-hearted mess.

I should’ve either ignored Ellen’s deeds and locked her away under heavy restrictions or… killed her outright.

Bringing her into my home or hiding her far from demons might’ve worked.

But maybe she’d have found a way to die even then, claiming such a life wasn’t worth living.

She would’ve gone through with it, wouldn’t she?

It’s all so complicated.

I can’t see any answers.

Why does the enemy have to be someone I cared about?

“AAAAHH! AHHHHHHHH!!”

Isabel’s scream rang out from deeper inside the house.

I quickly grabbed my weapon and sprinted toward the source of Isabel’s scream, kicking the door open.

But Isabel was unharmed.

She was clutching the pendant on her necklace, eyes wide open, unable to even close them as she muttered prayers through sobs.

Her lower half was soaked, likely from fear.

When I turned my head to the left, I saw the headless corpses hanging upside down.

Covering my nose, I stepped into the room.

Inside, a large box was filled with demon heads, and a guillotine-like contraption stood in the center.

How could someone live in a way that allowed them to do this so casually, as if it were second nature?

The iron cages in the mansion basement almost seemed humane compared to this.

This was nothing short of a slaughterhouse for livestock—except the livestock was people.

Feeling my resolve falter, I quickly left the room.

“How could you possibly think Ellen should live after seeing this!?”

Isabel stood up and stormed toward Ethel.

She kicked Ellen’s corpse, still cradled in Ethel’s arms, before grabbing her by the collar and screaming in her face.

“Save her? Save her for what!?

If you so much as glance inside that room, you’d never utter those words again!

Even the horrors in the mansion’s basement—those weren’t the head of the family’s idea. It was Ellen’s, without a doubt!”

“So what!? What do you want me to do about it!?

Why are all of you—Ellen, Isabel, Theo, Diana—always blaming me!?”

Ethel’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her face.

“Why does it matter if I feel sad about Ellen dying instead of people whose names I don’t even know?

Yes, she did terrible things, but am I not allowed to mourn her?

Did I ever say what Ellen did was right!?”

Diana sat silently, unable to join the argument, watching the fight unfold with a vacant expression.

I wasn’t much different.

“Those nameless people—Ellen killed countless of them here.

And she did it willingly, leading the charge in those atrocities!

…This isn’t right. It can’t be.”

“I’m so tired of this.

Who’s right, who’s wrong—it’s all so exhausting.

Ellen, Isabel, Theo—I’m sick of all of it.”

Ethel and Isabel kept arguing.

Their words had no meaning, no weight.

It was just a shouting match fueled by raw emotions.

Isabel, ever the devout nun, likely felt compelled to guide a wayward lamb back to the path.

Ethel, of course, hated that.

It was a meaningless argument.

Not worth listening to.

I sat down, exhausted, and looked at Ellen’s corpse, her face still frozen in a smile.

But something faint—like a translucent screen—hovered above her head.

Had Ethel not noticed it while holding her earlier?

[BAD ENDING no. 4: A Deeply Regrettable Extreme Decision]

[Tips: Remember, heroines are human too. Be mindful of their stress levels!]

The words were written on the transparent screen.

When I reached out, my hand passed through it as if it were a hologram.

“Wow. Just… wow. Fuck.”

Diana’s quiet sobbing, Ethel and Isabel’s heated argument, the stench of blood wafting through the open door, and the sound of dripping echoed around me.

“I’m going to lose my mind.”

And the tip?

Completely useless.

It didn’t help at all.