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墨書 Inktalez
The secretary moved with precision, almost without a hint of hesitation, as she turned and walked to the storage cabinet beside the desk. She opened a drawer and took out a campaign vest and a cap, then gently handed them to Carter.
Carter looked down at the garments in his hands, his fingertips unconsciously brushing over the fabric's surface. This was a standard campaign outfit, made from inexpensive material but crafted with great care. The deep blue vest bore Rain's name, printed in bold and clear letters, accompanied by a simple yet powerful slogan below:
"Make Tomorrow Better."
The cap matched the vest in design, its pure white fabric embroidered with striking blue letters—simple and direct, like a political promise that needed no elaboration.
Carter held the campaign gear, momentarily lost in thought.
To many, this was just clothing, a common piece of campaign merchandise that might be discarded after one use. But for him, it felt like a symbol, a transformation, a dividing line.
He had never cared about what he wore—military uniforms, security outfits, worn leather jackets—these were merely coverings for his body and had never represented anything significant. Yet this time, he sensed that this clothing was more than just fabric; it was a declaration of stance, an expression of choice.
It signified that he was no longer the Veteran standing on the sidelines, observing coldly; he was about to step onto the stage and become part of something larger.
Rain smiled, his tone relaxed yet firm enough to be unrefusable: "Put it on, Carter. This means you’re now part of our team."
Carter glanced at him but said nothing more. He didn’t hesitate; he slipped on the vest and donned the cap. The brim of the hat slightly lowered hid several deep wrinkles on his forehead, while the vest fit snugly against his form—strange yet surprisingly suitable.
A glimmer of satisfaction crossed Rain's eyes as he nodded slightly. Then his tone shifted to something more formal: "Carter, my expectations for you are straightforward—you represent the true grassroots of this country and your identity as a soldier is your strength."
His tone was not one of persuasion but rather an assertion of an undeniable fact.
He sat back down in his chair, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped on the table, his gaze sharp: "I want you to stand with us on the front lines during every campaign event and parade."
Carter furrowed his brow slightly, and before he could speak, Rain continued, "You don't need to be a great speaker or use fancy political language." He smiled gently. "Just stand up and share your story."
These words left Carter silent for a few seconds.
His past life had never belonged in the spotlight; he was used to being overlooked, accustomed to hiding in the shadows, isolating himself from the world. But now, Rain wanted him to step in front of the crowd and tell his story.
He had never considered that his story was worth hearing.
But… perhaps he should give it a try.
He took a deep breath and slowly nodded.
"Okay," his voice was low but firm. "I can do it."
He knew this was a significant change for him, but he didn't dislike it. In fact, somewhere deep inside, a strange sense of excitement flickered to life—this might be the first real opportunity he had to make his voice heard.
He sat up straight, opened his notebook, and turned to the densely written page. His fingers lightly tapped the paper. "I've organized some rights I want to advocate for, as well as things I hope to achieve in the future."
Rain raised an eyebrow slightly, reached out to take the notebook, and glanced down at it.
The content was well-structured, covering medical benefits for Veterans, stable employment opportunities, mental health support, protections for the working class, and the expulsion of those criminal elements that prey on society.
After reading through it, Rain smiled approvingly and nodded gently. "You've done well, Carter. This information is valuable."
He closed the notebook, his tone steady but tinged with a hint of realism. "However, we must focus on the campaign right now—that's our immediate priority."
He lifted his head, his gaze sincere. "But I promise, once we win this election, these demands will become part of my governance direction."
Carter's heart trembled slightly.
Although this statement did not make any specific promises, Rain's tone was firm and persuasive. Unlike other politicians who only offered empty assurances, his voice inspired trust.
It was an intangible force, one that made people want to follow him.
Carter took a deep breath, nodded as if making a certain decision, and then spoke with conviction.
"Then let's win this election first."
Before long, the evening rally was about to begin, and the atmosphere inside the Campaign Headquarters grew increasingly tense and lively.
A secretary entered the office and smiled at Carter, nodding. "Mr. Carter, Mr. Ryan needs a moment to prepare. Please wait outside."
Carter paused for a moment but did not ask further questions. He stood up, adjusted his vest, and walked out of the office.
As soon as he stepped outside, he immediately felt a completely different atmosphere.
The entire Campaign Headquarters was bustling with activity, busy like a large machine about to start up. Staff members moved through every corner; some carried large boxes of promotional materials, others stood nervously in corners rehearsing their speeches, some furiously typed on laptops to ensure the live streaming equipment was functioning properly, while others held walkie-talkies, confirming the readiness of the venue.
Everyone carried a clear sense of purpose. Their steps were brisk, their eyes sparkled with excitement as they spoke, their faces lit up with anticipation and enthusiasm, as if they were about to participate in a world-changing battle without any doubt or confusion.
Most of these individuals were young, energetic, and full of hope. They discussed policies, ballots, and social reforms with focused expressions, like people filled with faith in the future.
Carter stood amidst it all, feeling somewhat bewildered.
He looked around, and everything here felt both familiar and foreign to him.
What was familiar was the sensation of "preparation for battle." He had experienced countless deployments before missions, where everyone had clear tasks, a tense atmosphere filled with determination.
What felt foreign were the expressions on these people's faces.
They were so different from him.
Carter had never considered himself a person who "harbored hope." At least, before stepping into this place, the concept of "hope" had never existed in his life.
He had survived the slaughter of the battlefield, endured the government's neglect, and lived through the indifference of cities. He had made it this far not through hope, but through stubbornness, driven by the will to persist as long as he was still alive.
Yet these young people—how could they believe so wholeheartedly that the future would be better?
Carter glanced down at the campaign vest he wore, reaching out to touch the fabric. His fingertips gently brushed over the slogan "Make Tomorrow Better," and he felt a tangle of emotions within.
He was not one of these young people; he did not believe the world would become a better place. But what if—what if he could make the world a little less terrible?
In that case, his choice might hold some meaning after all.
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