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墨書 Inktalez
As Carter stepped to the entrance, the scene beyond the glass doors momentarily stunned him.
Inside was a bustling atmosphere, with rows of neatly arranged desks, each occupied by young staff members who were deeply engrossed in their tasks, seemingly oblivious to the newcomer at the door.
Some were on the phone, dialing numbers and politely inquiring about public opinion—“Hello, we would like to know your thoughts on the upcoming Election?” “Are you interested in Mr. Ryan's policies?”
Others were typing away at their computers, creating promotional materials. Images of Rain and campaign slogans flashed across the screens, while some meticulously edited speech videos, ensuring that each segment conveyed the most powerful message.
The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and the rustle of paper. The background was filled with the sounds of typing, ringing phones, and the low hum of printers. Everyone here operated like finely tuned gears in a machine; it felt less like an office and more like a command center for a battle, with each person fighting for a common goal.
Carter stood at the door, nervously pushing it open, but surprisingly, no one noticed him.
He had expected that as soon as he walked in, someone would look up and inquire about his purpose or cast a scrutinizing glance his way. Yet no one spared him a second glance—everyone was too focused on their work, as if this Election was more important than life itself.
He lingered at the entrance for a few seconds, feeling like an outsider, as if he didn’t belong here.
But he didn’t back down. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward toward the front desk.
The front desk was a long table cluttered with documents. A middle-aged woman was busy stamping envelopes without lifting her head, her movements swift and mechanical, completely ignoring his presence.
Carter stood before her and cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Um, excuse me—”
“Just a moment,” she replied without looking up, continuing to stamp envelope after envelope with unbroken rhythm. “We’re very busy right now. If you’re here to volunteer, the forms are on the table to your right.”
“No, I’m—” Carter began.
“If it’s about donations or you want promotional materials, please go over there to see Rek; he handles that part.” She still didn’t raise her gaze, her tone impatient yet unflustered, clearly accustomed to dealing with countless people like him every day.
Carter sighed in frustration; this woman hadn’t even glanced at him as if he were just another ordinary citizen running errands rather than someone bearing a proposal that could change the future.
Feeling slightly irritated but suppressing his impatience, he tightened his grip on his notebook and prepared to try again.
This time, he wouldn’t let himself be ignored.
Carter took a deep breath, suppressing his impatience. This time, his voice was steady and firm.
"My name is Carter Black." He tightened his grip on the notebook in his hand and stated unequivocally, "Rein's Secretary has noted my name. They should have informed you that I was personally invited by Rain."
The woman at the front desk finally halted her movements, stamping the last letter with a crisp "thud." She then set down her items and looked up at Carter for the first time.
Her gaze swept across his face, revealing a hint of scrutiny and skepticism.
The man before her was unremarkable, lacking the elite aura of someone in a suit, and devoid of the slick charm typical of political figures. He even appeared as if he could be found at a bar nursing a drink.
He was middle-aged, wearing a worn black leather jacket with frayed cuffs that suggested it had been around for many years. Underneath, he had on a gray shirt that had faded with washing, its collar slightly wrinkled—clearly not someone who paid much attention to attire.
His pants were deep blue jeans, somewhat old but at least clean. His shoes were black work boots, dusted with grime, indicating he was not one to sit in an office but rather someone accustomed to standing, walking, and laboring.
Though his expression was calm, he stood straight, his eyes sharp and carrying the kind of cool determination that only a seasoned veteran would possess.
But could such a person really be invited by Rain?
The woman appeared slightly doubtful, furrowing her brow but refraining from directly questioning him. Instead, she casually picked up the phone and dialed an internal line.
"Hello, is this Mr. Ryan's secretary?" she asked in a formal tone while keeping her eyes on Carter. "There is a Mr. Carter Black here who claims to have been invited by Rain. May I ask—"
Before she could finish her sentence, it seemed the voice on the other end responded immediately. She paused for a moment, her expression shifting slightly before she nodded. "Alright, I understand."
After hanging up the phone, her demeanor changed; respect flickered in her eyes as she nodded at Carter.
"Mr. Ryan is waiting for you inside," she gestured towards the office. "Please go in."
Carter raised an eyebrow slightly, feeling somewhat surprised—he hadn't expected Rein's Secretary to actually remember his name. It seemed this matter was more formal than he had anticipated.
He said nothing further; instead, he tightened his grip on the notebook and stepped into the office, ready to engage in this conversation—perhaps it would be one that truly changed the course of his life.
Carter took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
A steady voice came from inside, calm and measured, carrying an assurance that he had anticipated Carter's arrival.
Carter tightened his grip on the notebook, pushed the door open, and stepped into the office.
The room was not very large but was neatly organized. The bookshelves were filled with policy reports and election materials, while a large electoral map spread across the desk, marked with different colored indicators, clearly part of the campaign strategy. In the corner stood a small coffee machine, quietly brewing black coffee, filling the air with a rich aroma that brought an unexpected sense of calm.
Inside the room, Rain and his secretary were seated behind the desk, seemingly engaged in discussion.
As soon as the door opened, Rain immediately looked up, a familiar smile gracing his lips—one that conveyed both warmth and control over the situation. It was just right, making Carter feel valued without being overly eager.
Beside him, the secretary narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Carter with a sharp gaze as if assessing whether he was someone to be trusted or if Rain should invest more attention in this man.
"I knew you would come, Mr. Carter," Rain said cheerfully, with an unexplainable certainty in his tone.
Carter stood at the doorway, scanning the room's layout before finally locking eyes with Rain.
In that moment, he realized he had truly stepped into another world—a world completely different from his past.
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