I Become a Secret Police Officer of The Imperial Academy – Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Alicia was dead.

No, not yet. She was still alive.

She was gasping for breath, clutching my hand.

A blade was lodged in her stomach.

The handle was sticky, and if I pulled it out, I would probably see rusted patches all over the filthy blade.

But soon, she would die.

The priest who could have healed her was already dead, his abdomen torn open, and by the time I ran to the mansion’s vault for a potion and returned, she would be gone.

How ironic.

I kept bringing Alicia to the mansion, vowing to save her, only to always watch her die.

“Miss, at least stop the bleeding—”

“Marco, step back. I’m feeling frustrated.

What if I decide to vent my anger on you and shoot you instead?”

Marco looked at me for a long moment before nodding.

“…Understood.”

How many times had this happened now?

Far more than ten, that much I was sure of.

If someone asked how I knew Alicia would die, the only answer I could give was that I had experienced it before.

Experience. A fucking awful experience.

At least this time, she looked intact on the outside.

Alicia was beautiful, and I hoped she would stay that way.

With time, she would only become more beautiful, but maybe some deity above was jealous.

Not even once had they let her live.

Ahaha.

I wanted to see her grow up.

She wouldn’t bring home someone I approved of, but I still wanted to see her fall in love, smile happily with a boyfriend by her side.

Someday, yes, someday.

Maybe she would grow taller than me, holding a beautiful child in her arms, one who would undoubtedly be adorable, just like Alicia.

She would show off that child to me, beaming with pride.

Just thinking about it now made my heart ache unbearably.

But at least I could stay by her side until the end.

Dying alone was lonelier than most could imagine.

It was absurd.

Absurdity—it was the perfect word for this meaningless existence.

Like a rat running on a wheel, I kept moving forward in this ridiculous cycle.

But how long could I keep going?

Was death really the end?

This wasn’t some philosophical question, just a statement of fact.

How many times had I gone through this?

If death was truly the end, I would have simply lamented the meaningless life and accepted it.

I had done that several times before.

Yes, I had died countless times.

I didn’t know the exact number.

The causes varied.

Once, after Alicia died, I immediately hanged myself to see her again.

Most of the time, I just blew my brains out with a gun.

It was simple.

At some point, I didn’t even make it back to the mansion.

I died in the streets.

Me, Alicia, or both of us.

Maybe I was being punished for resisting.

When I took Alicia to the bookstore and smoked a cigarette by the entrance, an explosion would echo, followed by screams.

The commercial district would erupt in flames.

Then, I would take Alicia and head back to the mansion.

At first, she would panic, cry, collapse in despair, wondering why this was happening.

But she had stopped giving up.

At the very least, I wanted her to die in the mansion, not in the filthy streets.

Maybe she could survive.

That hope kept me moving, but no matter what, Alicia always died.

Whether I managed to escape with her or slaughtered every demon in the way.

The causes of death varied, too.

Shrapnel from a building explosion.

A stray blade from nowhere.

Oh, and the time she tripped over a rock and cracked her skull still pissed me off.

I had fought through hordes of demons, dodged countless attacks, only to watch a pebble kill Alicia right in front of the mansion gates.

Feeling my emotions rise, I let out a sigh and habitually pulled out a cigarette.

The conversation I had just shared with Alicia no longer mattered.

I was going to die soon anyway and return once more.

“This will happen again.

Eventually, even these emotions will fade.”

“…Un, nie.”

Alicia, still gasping, weakly called my name.

“No matter what, I’ll always be by your side at the end.”

I stroked her head as I spoke.

Her hair was as soft as ever.

“And like always, I’ll tell you that I love you.”

As time passed, her pupils slowly lost focus.

Even this sight would eventually become something I got used to.

The thought made me sick.

It wasn’t shocking anymore.

I had experienced it too many times.

It was just unpleasant.

Was it the act of Alicia dying that no longer shocked me?

Or was it that I already knew I could see her again as soon as I died?

Memories always came back slowly, accompanied by a sense of déjà vu.

A faint unease before heading to the commercial district.

Then, the explosion.

Slowly, so painfully slow, as if someone was mocking me.

At first, I raged, cursing at the sky, unloading bullets into humans and demons alike.

Theo had locked me up in prison once, but that was nothing—a bullet to the head was all it took to escape.

Now, I just sat there, resigned.

I had lost count of how many times this had happened.

Only vague memories remained, like something from a distant past.

I remembered being young.

Maybe four years old.

The first time my father stabbed me.

A searing pain in my stomach, my guts spilling out, crying and begging to be saved.

I must have crawled desperately, clutching my torn abdomen, surrounded by my own entrails.

After a week, I stopped crying.

For a while, I couldn’t even eat sausages without feeling sick.

Now, I eat them just fine.

Time passed, I started fighting with Julian, and getting stabbed became routine.

That’s how it felt now.

A miserable situation, not good, but so familiar that I couldn’t even cry.

And the fact that I accepted it as normal made me feel even more pathetic.

Maybe last time, Theo blew my head off before I could even try anything.

He would probably show up soon.

That fucking bastard.

So perfect, having everything—yet incapable of doing anything.

If I were you.

If I had been born as you… yeah, I probably would’ve been just as dumb.

I would’ve grown up fine, happy.

I wouldn’t have played those stupid games, testing people while making small talk.

I wouldn’t have even met Alicia, so this whole scenario was pointless.

Still, why? Why the hell weren’t you in the capital today?

If you had mastered some great magic—teleportation or whatever—you could’ve at least saved Alicia if not me.

Then I wouldn’t have done anything stupid.

I’d do whatever you wanted. Even if it meant burying my face in a plate and dying on command.

I’ve already slammed my head into the ground and died before. What’s one more time?

Even though I knew it was pointless, my thoughts wouldn’t stop.

People say “what if” scenarios are meaningless, but to me, they became everything.

Who would have guessed? That dying would just send me back in time.

At first, I killed every last demon, but I knew it wasn’t revenge.

Revenge is when a victim repays the perpetrator with what they suffered.

What I did was just mindless rage, fueled by paranoia.

I wasn’t planning to stop.

The demons killed Alicia!

I knew I was the problem.

But I had no intention of fixing myself, so did it even matter?

I was born a wretched fool.

Alicia was all I had.

It was my fault.

I was a loudmouthed idiot with no real power to protect anyone.

After dying so many times, my body had gotten used to it.

This time, I was in decent shape.

Only my right arm was shredded.

“…At least you came quicker this time. Just a bit earlier would’ve been better. Heh.”

Theo stood before me.

Covered in blood, wielding a massive sword.

His hands were shaking.

Was it despair? Or exhaustion from having to deal with me again?

Anger? Fear?

I didn’t know.

Understanding others was hard.

For me, only hazy yet vivid memories remained, but this man remembered every single thing I had done.

“Haa… So, when does this finally end?”

I took a long drag from the now-exhausting cigar, exhaling smoke as I muttered.

I didn’t know if he even heard me.

I was too drained to enunciate properly, my words tumbling out in a mumble.