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墨書 Inktalez
Carter Black gripped the microphone tightly, his voice deep and slightly hoarse, yet carrying an undeniable weight.
"My name is Carter Black, and I was once a soldier."
The cheers from the audience gradually faded, every person holding their breath, all eyes focused on this man.
Carter scanned the crowd, took a deep breath, and began to tell his story—
"I enlisted at eighteen and was on the battlefield by twenty. I once believed that serving in the military was the highest honor for a man, that defending my country was my lifelong duty."
"We fought fiercely on the battlefield, watching our brothers fall one by one. At that moment, we held onto one belief— we would win. When we returned home, we would be hailed as heroes; our country would not forget us."
He paused for a moment, his fists tightening slightly, his voice growing deeper and more powerful—
"But when the war ended, when we finally returned to the land we swore to protect... what did we receive?"
The audience fell into a terrifying silence.
"We received cold notifications from the government, telling us that troop reductions were in effect and that we were no longer needed."
"We received meager pensions that couldn’t even cover a year’s rent."
"We received countless rejection letters—because we were once soldiers. Our resumes made employers uneasy; they said we were hard to control, that we carried the violence of the battlefield with us. They refused to hire us."
"We found ourselves homeless, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Our brothers took their own lives, and then the government said—this is our own problem."
A profound silence enveloped the audience.
No one shouted, no one clapped, no one made a sound; even quiet conversations ceased.
Carter furrowed his brow, thinking he had messed up.
He believed these people didn’t care about his story; he thought this speech was merely him venting, that no one truly cared about his pain.
So, he spoke with more seriousness.
In a heavier tone, he revealed the truths that had been suppressed in his heart for years, truths that had gone unheard—
"We are not heroes; we are just tools discarded by the government."
"Our blood has stained the battlefield, yet our future died on the way home."
He became more invested and more passionate, convinced he needed to exert greater effort to make these people hear him.
But what he didn’t realize was— they had been listening all along.
Every word, every sentence fell heavily into their hearts.
In the crowd, some clenched their fists in silence, others gritted their teeth with red-rimmed eyes, while some crossed their arms, their faces etched with anger and sorrow.
They were not indifferent; they were simply too shaken by the story to speak.
Carter finally paused and took a deep breath. He didn’t realize how forcefully he had just spoken; his fingers were gripping the microphone tightly, knuckles turning white, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
He looked down at the audience and for the first time clearly saw their expressions—
They were not cold; they were not apathetic. They were digesting his words. In that moment, his story had become not just his own but a scar of society as a whole.
And then—
A round of applause erupted.
Then came the second, the third—soon, the entire venue was filled with deafening applause and cheers.
Some stood up, others raised their fists, and some had tears in their eyes yet clapped vigorously, as if it was the only thing they could do—to let this man know that they heard his pain, his experiences, his anger, and his sorrow.
They cared.
Carter looked at everything before him, feeling as if something had struck him hard in the chest. He had never imagined that one day so many people would hear his voice and be moved to anger and emotion.
In that moment, he finally realized—
He was no longer a forgotten man.
The crowd went wild.
What had just moments ago been a silent sea of faces now resembled a forest ignited by fierce flames, with countless voices merging into a surging roar. Applause, slogans, and shouts intertwined, creating an energy in the room that reached unprecedented heights.
"Well said!"
"This is the truth!"
"They betrayed our hero!"
Supporters waved their fists and shouted slogans, their emotions surging as if they had forgotten this was merely a campaign rally; it felt like a true revolution.
—And all of this left Keisha, standing backstage, utterly stunned.
She had originally been positioned at the side of the stage, going through the motions of her volunteer duties. Little did she know that the person she had bumped into earlier that morning was actually the special guest invited by Mr. Ryan!
"How is this possible...?"
She widened her eyes, staring in disbelief at the man on stage, who she initially thought was just an ordinary campaign worker, a somewhat disheveled Veteran. Yet here he stood at the center of the stage, igniting the entire venue with his story, his anger, and his pain!
Moreover—
His speech was filled with such intense emotion.
Those words were not mere hollow complaints; they carried weight, infused with the pain and fury of real experiences. Each word struck at the hearts of the audience.
Keisha felt her own heartbeat quicken. She had never imagined that there could be someone in this world who could express their suffering so genuinely and directly, making everyone feel it deeply.
—But at the same time, Carter on stage felt a bit lost.
He had never encountered such a large crowd, let alone this kind of wild enthusiasm. His story had just been told, and now he faced this electrified audience, unsure of what to do next.
He forced a stiff smile and awkwardly waved his hand, like a novice thrust onto the stage for the first time, completely unaware of how to respond to the thunderous applause and cheers.
This was not a battlefield; he didn't know where to charge or what to do next.
He simply stood there, like an outsider pushed onto the stage.
Just then, Rain gently patted him on the shoulder.
Carter turned around to see Rain wearing that confident and friendly smile, as if he had anticipated this moment all along.
Rain smoothly reached out, taking the microphone from Carter's hand, then turned to face the crowd, raising his hand to signal for silence.
His movements were steady and fluid, like a natural master of the stage.
"Mr. Carter," he articulated the true voice of so many hearts," Rain said with a smile, his tone still brimming with charm, like a fervent conductor who knew how to channel the surging energy in the right direction.
"But he didn't just share his own story; he shared our story! He is our voice, he is our witness!"
The audience erupted into deafening applause once more. This time, Carter finally breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back to allow Rain to regain control of the moment.
The rally concluded successfully, the stage lights gradually dimming as supporters in the crowd waved their flags with reluctance. They understood that this would be an important night, one capable of shaking the very foundations of the election.
By the end of the event, Rain's approval ratings had visibly surged, discussions on social media spreading like wildfire. Journalists' press releases began to ferment online, with countless comments, shares, and discussions flooding in like a tidal wave.
"This is the leader we need!"
"Finally, someone dares to speak the truth!"
"Carter Black's story brought me to tears. Is this how our country treats its heroes?!"
The speech had successfully ignited a buzz; Rain's campaign team clearly recognized that they had won this show handsomely.
Backstage, the atmosphere was electric. Staff and campaign members moved back and forth, exchanging high-fives and excited glances. The success of this event far exceeded their expectations.
In the center of backstage, Rain faced a group of reporters, confidently accepting interviews.
"Mr. Ryan, tonight's rally was incredibly successful. How do you think this speech will impact your campaign?"
Rain smiled, his tone relaxed and self-assured. "We don't just want to win this election; we want to awaken this society. I believe tonight has proven that we have done just that."
"What are your thoughts on the government's response? Some politicians have accused you of manipulating populism and sensationalizing veterans' tragedies. How do you respond?"
Rain shrugged and smiled as he spread his hands. "If speaking the truth is manipulation, then I would rather continue manipulating. The real question is—why are they so afraid to let the people know the truth?"
The reporters quickly noted down the statement, a powerful and aggressive response that was sure to make headlines tomorrow.
"Then, what about Mr. Carter Black? The speech by this veteran moved everyone in the room; where is he now? Will he continue to appear at your campaign events?"
Upon hearing the question, Rain smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and then raised his hands to signal for calm.
"Everyone, everyone, Mr. Carter is just an ordinary person. He did very well just now; let's not put him through any more torture."
A low chuckle rippled through the crowd, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.
Rain paused for a moment before adding, "He is not a politician; he is not a professional speaker. He is just an ordinary man. Our responsibility is to protect him well, not to push him into the torrent of reporters for torment."
The reporters diligently recorded his words, some wanting to ask more questions, but Rain had already raised his hand, signaling that this topic was over.
His demeanor appeared casual, but he was acutely aware of what he was doing—
Carter had become a trump card in this election battle, and a truly skilled player knew how to maximize the potential of this card without letting it be worn out.
He understood that he had done what needed to be done, and from here on out, it was up to those who truly knew how to navigate this political game.
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