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墨書 Inktalez
Carter stood in the corner of the private room, as if trapped in a silent nightmare.
The air was thick with smoke, saturated with the scents of cigars, alcohol, and something more unsettling. The laughter of women mingled with the banter of the Gang Leader, creating an atmosphere that felt less like a den of iniquity and more like a grand celebration.
In the center sat Rain, the host of this debauched affair.
Carter's heart was consumed by endless torment.
He refused to believe that this was real.
He preferred to convince himself that it was merely a part of Rain's political career, a mask he had to wear, a meticulously crafted performance.
He told himself that Rain might just need the funding and support from these gangs to ensure a smoother campaign.
He imagined that perhaps once elected, everything would change. He would withdraw, he would transform society, and he would allow those who believed in him to live in peace.
But—
Rain's gaze, Rain's smile, every movement he made ruthlessly shattered that illusion.
This was not an act. This was not a disguise. This was not a temporary measure.
He was reveling in it.
When the Gang Leader spoke about the Drug Trade, Rain showed no hesitation; instead, he casually nodded as if listening to an ordinary business proposal.
As they discussed brothels and Human Trafficking, Rain did not frown or show any sign of disgust. He merely smiled and reminded them not to go too far, his tone lacking any genuine condemnation.
When Dancers leaned into him, he did not resist; instead, he sighed contentedly and lazily waved his hand for them to pour more drinks.
This man was not dragged into this game.
He belonged here.
Evil and corruption had long been etched into his bones, seamlessly merging with his face that belonged to the elite politicians.
Carter's fingers trembled slightly as he clenched his fists tighter, a sound of something breaking echoed in his mind.
Was this the person he had fought so hard to save?
Was this really Rain, the one he had always believed in, followed, and even once respected?
Carter's throat felt dry, and a wave of indescribable nausea churned in his stomach. At that moment, he finally realized something terrifying—
This "Revolution" might have been nothing but a scam.
The torment had lasted for an unknown duration; time seemed distorted, everything felt like an unending nightmare from which he could not awaken.
Carter's body was as rigid as stone as he stood to the side, watching Rain grow increasingly intoxicated, his words becoming slurred and his movements languid.
The gang members continued to laugh heartily, discussing even filthier deals, while women nestled against them like pets nourished by money and power, sweetly flattering every man who spent generously.
The disgust and nausea within Carter had intensified to the point where he felt it might spill out from his throat.
But he had to endure; he had to suppress it—because right now, his job was not yet finished.
"It's time to go..." the secretary whispered to him.
Rain swayed as he stood up, drunkenly waving his hand, belching and wearing a tipsy smile. He staggered and said, "Alright, alright... don't be so serious, Carter. Let's head back..."
Carter forced down the revulsion inside him as he reached out to steady Rain's arm, allowing the nearly unsteady man to lean on him as he dragged him toward the door.
But just as they stepped out of the private room, Carter turned back and glared fiercely at the gang members inside.
These dirty, vulgar, greedy men continued to laugh loudly, their tone low and their behavior debauched, completely oblivious that their very existence was a filth.
These people, these undeniable social parasites, now stood shoulder to shoulder with Rain, raising their glasses in celebration, even capable of influencing the future of this city.
All of this made Carter's blood boil within his chest.
He clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to rush forward and beat these people to a pulp, holding back the disgust and anger at this farce, and stifling the growing doubts and unease deep inside him.
Finally, he coldly withdrew his gaze and forcibly dragged Rain out of this depraved place.
His secretary followed closely beside him, walking steadily as if accustomed to such scenes, not even a flicker of emotion crossing her face.
This only weighed heavier on Carter's heart.
Was he the only one who had not grown accustomed to this filth?
Carter pulled Rain through the hotel corridor, where colorful lights flickered, spun, and changed incessantly, casting his figure into a fragmented silhouette, like a shadow wandering through a bizarre world.
The lights fell on Rain's face—red, blue, purple, yellow—seemingly projecting every color in the world onto this man without restraint, making him appear both magnificent and absurd, both sacred and dirty.
The world was too bright, yet the path ahead remained unclear.
Carter stepped forward with heavy and hesitant footsteps; despite the ample light, it felt as if he could not see where the road lay ahead.
Rain was utterly drunk, swaying against Carter's body, mumbling incoherent words while occasionally bursting into light laughter, as if caught in an absurd dream.
At last, they reached the hotel entrance.
The doorman was already unfazed by such sights; he stepped forward with practiced ease, wearing a standard smile as he respectfully opened the door.
"Sir, please take care."
A cool night breeze rushed in instantly.
Carter felt a hint of cleanliness in the air for the first time today.
He took a deep breath and dragged Rain outside, finally leaving behind the hotel filled with decay and depravity.
The world outside was eerily quiet compared to the chaos within.
Only a few streetlights flickered on the road, the ground bathed in moonlight, casting long shadows. The air was no longer thick with smoke and alcohol but carried a chill of the night that felt refreshing.
There were hardly any pedestrians on the street; a few drunken men and late-night wanderers swayed at the corners, while an occasional taxi slowly passed by, its headlights briefly illuminating the darkness before fading away.
It was already two in the morning.
The moon hung high in the dark sky, solitary and pure, like the last remnant of cleanliness in this world.
Carter glanced up at the moon, a strange thought crossing his mind—
Was it mocking the filth below?
The cold night breeze brushed gently against him but failed to disperse the heavy atmosphere.
The secretary stared down at his phone, fingers swiftly sliding across the screen as he sent a few brief messages, urging the driver to hurry up and come pick them up.
Yet, despite his outward calmness, his peripheral vision frequently darted toward Carter, his eyes filled with obvious dissatisfaction and resentment.
The three of them stood by the roadside, enveloped in a suffocating silence.
Rain was nearly unconscious from drunkenness, leaning against a streetlight, mumbling incoherently while occasionally bursting into silly laughter, as if the sinful and depraved banquet they had just attended was merely trivial entertainment.
But what about Carter?
It felt as though a massive stone weighed heavily on his chest, making it hard to breathe. The blood coursing through him burned with rage, anger boiling within his bones.
He wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say.
The silence hung in the air like a taut string, and finally, the secretary broke it.
His voice was low and indifferent, laced with a hint of suppressed anger. "You seem quite dissatisfied. What's wrong?"
Though his tone sounded concerned, Carter knew he was actually being warned.
Carter lifted his head, his gaze dark and foreboding, as if he were holding back something on the verge of exploding. His voice was deep and filled with restrained fury. "What's wrong?"
He scoffed, his breath quickening as he fixed his eyes on the secretary.
Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he shouted in anger, "I am willing to join you to clear this city of its corruption and darkness... but what is going on?!"
His words froze the air instantly, like a lightning bolt slicing through the night, plunging the entire street into an eerie silence.
The secretary did not respond immediately; he merely blinked, his expression still icy, but the corners of his mouth curled slightly as if he found Carter's anger amusing or had anticipated this moment all along.
He spoke slowly, his tone devoid of any fluctuation yet imbued with an unsettling calmness.
"Carter, have you misunderstood something?"
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