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墨書 Inktalez
The next day, the sun rose as usual, and the city continued its rhythm, but Carter's life had already begun to change.
After work, he returned to Rain's Campaign Headquarters, just like the day before. However, today he was no longer just an observer wanting to stay in the corner and quietly watch everything unfold; he had become one of the key pieces drawn into the whirlwind of the election.
Rain was already waiting there. Upon seeing Carter enter, he flashed that charming smile he was known for and confidently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Carter, are you ready? We have a lot to do today!"
Before Carter could respond, Rain naturally pulled him outside. The campaign team’s staff quickly followed suit, bustling around to organize banners and microphones, preparing for another round of campaigning.
Today, they were going to parade through the streets, ensuring that Rain's name and policies seeped into every corner of the city.
But this time, Rain was not going out alone; he wanted Carter to join him.
The car drove toward the busiest markets and industrial areas—places that were the heart of the working class, often overlooked by most politicians yet holding significant electoral influence.
Inside the car, Rain handed Carter a plain gray baseball cap, so ordinary it could not be more so. The brim was slightly worn, making it look like an old item that had been worn for years.
"Put it on," Rain said with a smile.
Carter raised an eyebrow, unsure of the reasoning but complied nonetheless. As he pulled the cap down over his forehead, his appearance instantly became more understated and humble, resembling an ordinary worker rather than someone standing on a campaign stage.
Rain nodded in satisfaction and adjusted Carter's jacket, ensuring there were no overly formal or flashy elements in his attire—this was a carefully orchestrated image-making process, and Carter was the most important "symbol of the people" in this election.
"Do you know why we’re doing this?" Rain asked with a slight smile, his tone gentle yet imbued with a sense of control.
Carter remained silent, simply watching him and waiting for an explanation.
Rain patted his shoulder with a smile, his voice low and assured. "Because I need voters to see themselves in you."
"You are not a politician, you are not a wealthy person, you are not an elite; you are just an ordinary person, just like them."
"When you stand before them, they won't feel like you're preaching, they won't think you're manipulating them; instead, they will feel—this is who they are."
"Your story will become their story."
"And when they start to believe in you, they will believe—that I can truly bring about change."
Carter listened quietly, not responding immediately. He gazed out the window at the bustling city streets filled with hurried workers, vendors, and delivery drivers. Their faces showed fatigue, yet they continued to strive for a better life.
He knew Rain was using him; this was not just about giving a voice to veterans but rather a political calculation.
But he also understood that if this could make the real issues heard, if it could bring about some change, then what did it matter if he was being used?
The car gradually slowed down as the crowd outside grew denser.
The parade was about to begin, and Carter would truly stand on the front lines of this political battle.
Carter stood in the vehicle, sunlight pouring down on his shoulders, surrounded by deafening cheers and commotion.
Rain stood beside him, raising a hand to greet the voters, smiling, waving, nodding—every gesture perfectly executed like a natural leader.
Carter hesitated for a moment before raising his own hand to wave alongside Rain.
As his gaze swept across the crowd, he saw unfamiliar yet profoundly familiar faces—
The workers in their overalls had hands thick with calluses and stained with grease, their faces etched with the weariness of years.
The elderly men sitting by the roadside stalls bore gazes filled with an indescribable fatigue, as if they were reminiscing about the past while contemplating the future.
The mothers holding their children could not hide their exhaustion, which was overshadowed by their affection for the little ones. Yet, in their eyes lingered an unspoken worry—concern for this society, anxiety about this era, and fear that their children’s futures might not be better than their own.
What he saw were people just like him, struggling to survive at the bottom of the social ladder.
In that moment, he suddenly understood—these people needed someone to speak for them.
For years, his anger had been a roar against this society; he cursed the government, condemned the system, and railed against the injustices of the world. But he had never considered that he could be a part of the change.
Now, as he stood there under the gaze of all those around him, he realized—he was no longer an unknown figure.
He was now someone capable.
He was not a politician, not a wealthy tycoon, nor a ruler, but he had earned the trust of these people; he could make their voices heard.
He should help them.
No, he must help them.
This was his original intention.
Carter took a deep breath, feeling a heavy burden within him gradually transform into an unprecedented sense of responsibility. The brows that had been tightly knit finally relaxed.
He was no longer the Veteran who could only waste his life away in a bar.
Now, he was a symbol of hope.
With each campaign event, Carter became more engaged and more certain of his beliefs.
He witnessed the crowd's fervor for Rain, heard his own words echoed by supporters, and felt that he was no longer an anonymous figure on the fringes of society, but rather a part of this transformative movement.
He was no longer just a pawn being used; he had become a messenger of faith.
He began to believe more firmly that Rain was the savior of this city.
He was convinced that this man possessed the power to change everything, that his words were not mere political slogans but a gospel—a true promise capable of saving this land.
And what about himself? He was the one responsible for welcoming this savior as a herald.
Every time he stood on the street, every time he spoke with voters, he felt a burning pride within him—he was participating in a great movement, and he had finally found his place.
No longer a forgotten Veteran, no longer a lonely outcast abandoned by society, he was now a symbol, a bridge connecting the people to Rain.
—And through this process, his world began to encompass more than just politics and anger.
As he appeared more frequently at the Campaign Headquarters, another figure gradually became more prominent in his life.
Keisha.
At first, their interactions were merely coincidental, consisting of brief conversations or simple exchanges during work.
However, as time passed, these coincidences gradually evolved into a habit.
They began to run into each other in the break room at headquarters, started walking back to the office side by side after events, and exchanged thoughts on the campaign while organizing documents late at night.
Sometimes, she would laugh and poke fun at the pointless internal disputes within the campaign team or complain about being assigned tasks that weren't hers by her superiors.
Other times, they would stand together on the balcony, gazing at the city's lights, discussing the laborers still struggling below the poverty line and whether they could truly make a difference.
Carter found that when he was with Keisha, he could momentarily detach himself from Rain's influence and return to a simpler world.
And what about Keisha?
She seemed to have grown accustomed to Carter's presence; her tone gradually shifted from formal to natural, from small talk to genuine concern.
Their friendship unknowingly deepened over time.
For Carter, this election was not just for Rain, for society, or for justice.
It also began to add new colors to his life.
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