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墨書 Inktalez
The news of the assassination attempt swept across the nation's media landscape within just a few hours.
Major news websites, television headlines, and even trending topics on social media were dominated by the assassination and Rain's "unyielding spirit."
But what shocked everyone the most was a photo perfectly captured by a reporter—
In the aftermath of the gunfire, as the crowd panicked and fled, Rain stood atop a car, his fist raised high towards the sky, his gaze unwavering. It was as if he was praying to the heavens or declaring to the world that he feared no threat.
This photo went viral within hours, becoming the most symbolic image of Rain's campaign.
— "The indomitable Rain!"
— "The people's warrior!"
— "Faced with bullets, he chose to raise his fist instead of retreating!"
The online buzz exploded, and discussions on social media catapulted Rain's name to trending status. Media analyses, expert commentary, and celebrity retweets all focused on this assassination attempt, causing Rain's approval ratings to soar.
He quickly widened the gap between himself and other candidates.
Following the police investigation, the identity of the assassin was swiftly revealed—
"Identity of the shooter confirmed: A fervent supporter of the Democratic Party!"
According to police reports, the assailant was identified as Coleman Wells, a man in his thirties and a former teacher who had long supported the Democratic Party. He expressed deep dissatisfaction with Rain's rise and had made numerous incendiary remarks on his social media accounts.
"We cannot let this Fascist be elected! We cannot allow him to destroy our democracy!"
"If no one stands up to stop him, everything will be ruined!"
These past posts have now been unearthed by netizens, plunging the Democratic Party into a significant public relations crisis.
Opponents of Rain could have criticized his policies and challenged his political views, but now, all their words have been utterly shattered by a single bullet—because this assassination has turned Rain into a "victim," a "resilient hero," and a "representative of the people persecuted by extremist forces."
At this moment, Rain's image is no longer just that of a politician; he has transformed into a symbol, a belief, a leader who will not bow to fear.
Meanwhile, Carter stands in the Campaign Headquarters, watching the news footage and the image of Rain raising his fist, feeling an indescribable emotion swell within him.
After the assassination attempt, Rain's attitude began to change.
Carter knew he had saved Rain's life, but he did not expect it to completely alter his standing within the campaign team.
Rain's appreciation for him became increasingly evident.
In the past, Carter was merely a cleverly placed "symbol" in the campaign, a representative of the lower-tier military, a "story" capable of resonating with voters.
But now, his role was no longer just that of a campaign prop; he had truly entered Rain's inner circle.
Rain no longer allowed him to merely stand on the vehicle waving or just deliver speeches to rally grassroots votes; instead, he offered him an entirely new position—Rain's personal security detail.
"Carter, I owe you one this time," Rain said firmly in the office. "I won't let you be just a bit player anymore."
He handed Carter an official contract, allowing him to work full-time at his side, responsible for his safety, making him someone "trustworthy," someone "whose life can be entrusted."
This meant that Carter would have to resign from his previous security job. Although it was dull and paid modestly, at least it was stable.
But Carter did not hesitate long; he signed his name.
—This was a path of no return.
But he never wanted to go back.
Since that day, Carter's life had changed completely.
He followed Rain almost everywhere, attending campaign events, participating in meetings, and even accompanying Rain to private occasions.
He began to witness more of the inner workings of the campaign, hearing things that the staff would never say in public, and seeing deals and calculations that would never make it into news reports.
More importantly—Rain's way of treating him started to change as well.
In the past, Rain's words were always carefully crafted, like a politician who knew exactly what to say, always wearing a friendly smile, making people feel valued while maintaining an appropriate distance.
But now, when Rain spoke to him, it was no longer so deliberate.
His attitude became more direct, sometimes even a bit casually rude. He began to show Carter a more genuine side of himself—not just the perfect politician giving speeches on stage, but a real person with emotions, ambitions, and flaws.
Sometimes, in private settings, Rain would lean back in his chair, sighing wearily without hiding his fatigue, even cursing the foolishness of his opponents.
At times, when the staff was absent, he would turn to Carter and say directly, "Do you really think this policy works? Or is it just another load of political nonsense?"
This tone and attitude were never shown to outsiders, but with Carter, he began to speak without reservations.
It was a treatment reserved for "one of his own," and it signified true trust.
Carter knew he was delving deeper into the core of this political war.
And he began to realize that Rain's world was more complex and dangerous than he had originally imagined.
As night fell and the streetlights flickered, Carter's phone suddenly vibrated.
The secretary's name flashed on the screen.
He furrowed his brow and answered the phone.
"Get to Caesar Hotel right now." The secretary's voice was brief, calm as usual, but there was an unmistakable urgency that brooked no refusal.
Carter raised an eyebrow, habitually glancing at the clock in the room. It was nearly midnight.
"What’s Rain’s schedule?" he asked while starting to put on his clothes.
"Don’t ask, just come." The secretary's tone was firm before he hung up.
Carter sighed, zipped up his jacket, grabbed his wallet and keys, and quickly headed toward the motorcycle parked downstairs.
He started the engine, the headlights illuminating the dark street as the wheels sped off toward Caesar Hotel.
This was a place where the business world and underworld intersected; high-end businessmen, politicians, wealthy elites, and underground forces all sought opportunities to exploit one another.
Carter knew that Rain's recent campaign had entered a critical phase, and these "private gatherings" were becoming increasingly frequent. This time, it was likely another transaction of power and interests.
However, when he arrived at the hotel entrance, the situation was far more... bizarre than he had anticipated.
The street outside the hotel was filled with black luxury cars, creating an imposing scene. Some plates belonged to companies, while others were unregistered vehicles of dubious origin.
Just as Carter parked his motorcycle, he spotted the secretary standing at the hotel entrance, looking serious with arms crossed and pacing impatiently as if waiting for him.
"You finally made it. Hurry inside," the secretary urged, his tone more anxious than usual.
Carter said little and walked into the lobby—
As soon as he stepped into the hotel, he immediately felt the atmosphere of the night… completely different from previous gatherings.
This was no longer a high-society social event filled with polished smiles and political maneuvering; the air here was wilder, more indulgent, and even… more dangerous.
He could smell the strong scent of alcohol and tobacco, along with something else that had no place in such a venue—those transactions and indulgences that came from the Underworld.
Surrounding him were sofas filled with Gang Members, dressed in extravagant yet ostentatious suits, adorned with gold chains, their faces wearing a cynical smile. They held cigars in their hands, surrounded by young women who laughed flirtatiously.
In the center of the dance floor, several Strippers twisted their bodies to the deafening music, and an atmosphere of unabashed decadence permeated the air.
This was not an ordinary business gathering; it felt more like a revelry controlled by underground forces.
Carter's nerves instantly tightened, a flicker of unease crossing his mind—Rain… why would she be in a place like this?
The secretary offered no explanation, merely whispering to him, “Follow me.”
Carter took a deep breath and stepped cautiously into this night filled with danger.
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