I Become a Secret Police Officer of The Imperial Academy

Chapter 51

Am I going to die like this too? I did lose quite a lot of blood.

Either way, if Alicia is dead, there’s no reason to live in this kind of world.

It’s meaningless.

If I had to pick something of value, I suppose it would be Julian and the friends I made at the academy this time.

No, that’s not right. Alicia couldn’t possibly be dead.

Even as Marco carried me to the bed, my thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Speaking of which, this bed is probably soaked with blood. I’ll have to throw it away.

A person eating another person? No way. Ha.

No one would gleefully crush someone’s hips or rip out their chest.

They wouldn’t set buildings on fire, block the exits, and listen to the screams of those burning alive.

They wouldn’t tie a single arm to a pillar, light a fire beneath it, and watch, cackling as the person burned.

They wouldn’t crush someone’s eyes and violate the socket, nor would they force a mother’s corpse upon her child.

They wouldn’t hang severed heads on poles and parade them around, nor would they throw people into boiling water alive.

They wouldn’t drive iron chains through shoulder blades and lock people in cages.

They wouldn’t rip infants from their mothers and smash them onto the ground, nor would they take pleasure in dismembering bodies.

They wouldn’t gleefully bury people alive.

They wouldn’t peel scalps off living people.

They wouldn’t twist every joint in a living person’s body, laughing as they did it.

That’s just how it is.

People couldn’t possibly do such things to other people.

They wouldn’t bury naked women upside down in the dirt and swarm over them like beasts. They wouldn’t cut someone in half and stitch them onto another person.

They wouldn’t beat someone like a dog just because they had a club in their hand.

What have I done?

I tried to save Alicia, but I shoved those people who were fleeing, making them fall and get caught by the rioters.

"There’s no way people could do things like that."

"…Miss, you shouldn’t be speaking right now."

A nameless butler standing with a gun spoke.

He didn’t seem to be the old butler. Maybe he was newly hired.

Maybe I was never human in the first place.

I couldn’t even protect Alicia. Those people I pushed into the demons’ hands—they just died like dogs.

If Alicia had survived, I would have made excuses, calling it an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice.

What a vile, disgusting human being I am.

I wish someone would come and take me away.

Lock me in a basement, cut my flesh away piece by piece, and burn me.

So I could never come back—turn me into ashes.

What have I done?

Alicia is dead.

She’s still warm, but she’s already gone.

What do I do? What should I do?

Honestly, I don’t know.

Well, I won’t cry.

Back when I got beaten and locked myself in my room to cry, Alicia had just started learning to write. She patted me and told me not to cry.

So I stopped crying from the next day on.

When my arm got scalded in boiling water, I did shed a few tears, but I didn’t sob, so Alicia let it slide.

Now, she’s gone somewhere beyond reach.

My thoughts are jumbled, my words lack coherence.

I feel dizzy.

A faint drowsiness washes over me, and I close my eyes.

Even so, I have no time to whine about how hard this is.

Even if my limbs are torn off, even if my skin is flayed, I must not stop thinking.

There’s no time for pain.

Sadness can be dealt with internally.

There’s no need to display heightened emotions or act out.

Then, what can I do?

"…Miss, I’ve brought a priest from the church."

Marco spoke with a face on the verge of tears.

On his back, a young girl hung limply. If she were merely asleep, she would at least be breathing softly. But since she was hanging there like that, she was probably dead.

The pain, which had been distant in my foggy mind, slowly grew sharper.

Was it because I was regaining consciousness?

To keep myself from screaming, I spoke to Marco.

"Marco, what happened?"

"…Religious fanatics, thugs, and people who just hate life all crawled out and are still running wild.

Most of the killings happened in the shopping districts and the bustling streets."

"You don’t even know how many are dead, do you?"

"……"

"What about my brother?"

Marco’s response was slightly delayed.

I didn’t think Julian would be dead… Ah.

Come to think of it, I always called him Julian, not ‘brother.’

Why am I suddenly calling him that now?

Maybe I unconsciously considered him my brother all along.

"He survived and made it back alive."

"Did he lose an arm or something?"

"His limbs are intact, but he’s not in his right mind."

"Ah, he went to order rings and a necklace."

Perhaps I looked deep in thought, because Marco naturally pulled out a cigar from his pocket.

"Shall I light it for you?"

"No, I won’t smoke."

At my words, Marco put the cigar in his own mouth and lit it instead.

"I didn’t say you could smoke it."

"Ha, leaving something this valuable unused is a crime."

Marco carried the child on his back into a room inside the mansion.

The priest finished his treatment, bowed to me, and left to treat others.

I touched my face. The large wounds that had been there moments ago had all healed.

My eyes hadn’t been gouged out either. My left and right eyes could see just fine.

Now, back to the main issue—what can I do?

Julian, who will become the next head of the family, the ability to manage that family, a vision for the future, setting goals, and executing them.

What was the head’s position again?

Director of the Security Bureau. A position meant to uphold order and eliminate threats in the nation.

The Imperial Security Bureau.

That name sounds ridiculous in this country.

It’s not even a proper organization—just a noble family contracted to handle counterintelligence.

Still, what if I expanded its scope?

For example, to target demons.

My thoughts were organized.

For now, just a little. Just a little rest should be fine.

It’s not like I can move my body anyway.

***

My daughter is dead.

Not that I was ever much of a father to her.

I asked a close friend to let her work at a cafe instead of keeping her in a brothel with her mother, but now, it all just feels pointless.

Losing something precious doesn’t make me angry. It just makes me feel empty.

And the reason she died is absurd.

Those bastards threw stones at the cafe, and one hit her in the head.

I laid her in the designated room for the dead, gently stroked her hair for a long time, and then stood up.

Then, I returned to the young miss.

I took deep drags from the stolen cigar, enough to suffocate myself in the smoke, before speaking with difficulty.

"The master and madam have yet to return."

The young master is alive, but the young lady, regrettably, has already passed away.

Even so, the lady I had served since birth showed no emotion, only a faint smile.

The right word escapes me.

Perhaps self-mockery describes it best.

She had always been calm, and though Julian was exceptionally intelligent, she was no less remarkable.

When we first spoke, I thought I was conversing with a child wearing a mask of innocence.

That changed after the master and madam’s education took hold, turning her once playful chatter into somber musings.

Yet, when she was with Alicia, glimpses of that innocence would resurface.

Now, she had become a dull shade of gray, an immutable figure.

People don’t change.

As if to confirm that, she murmured softly.

"I saw my father burning alive, and I witnessed my mother’s death firsthand. Don’t expect them to return."

If she had seen it with her own eyes, it must have been horrific.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if she had found satisfaction in it, but I quickly discarded the thought.

With fanatics and criminals rampaging together, cruelty was inevitable.

They had swarmed the busiest districts. The fact that she had survived was a miracle.

"Marco, what did you say before the carriage departed?"

That it was peaceful.

That there was no work, so you might as well drive the carriage or sweep the yard, you had joked.

"…I don’t remember."

I wanted to exchange lighthearted banter even now, but there was no room for it.

Even a dark jest would have been welcome.

"You said there was no work because it was a peaceful time."

She answered in my place.

"Now, there will be no end to work."

As if stating the obvious, she gave a faint smirk.

"So much work you’ll wish you were dead."

There was only one response I could give.

Having failed to protect the young lady, if she had ordered me to put a bullet through my own skull, it would have been no different.

"Yes."