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墨書 Inktalez
From that day on, Carter seemed to have returned to his original state.
No, to be more precise, he had become even more numb and indifferent than before.
Rain's words could no longer touch him; he no longer felt excitement from the other's promises, nor anger from their lies. He simply stood there quietly, like a walking shell, fulfilling his duties, saying what needed to be said, doing what needed to be done, without asking more or thinking further.
Every morning, he woke up in bed and looked out the window. The sky was still gray, the city still dirty; everything was no different from the past.
—But now, the way he looked at this city was filled with disgust.
This world had always been ugly; he was only now fully accepting this fact.
The wounds on his body were healing; the physical injuries were merely a matter of time. However, the cracks in his heart felt like a latent poison that would not disappear but would slowly spread, seeping into every corner of him.
He continued to work for Rain. The pay was good—much better than being an ordinary security guard—and his status was respectable.
—If he wanted to, he could easily consider this a "turning point" in his life, enjoying the perks of being part of the system like Rain's confidants and becoming a part of power.
But Carter knew well that his existence was merely a decoration for Rain—a symbolic "representative of the common people," a prop providing illusions for voters.
He had not chosen to leave, and he did not know why he hadn’t left. Perhaps… at least there was Keisha.
Though they spent little time together, she was still there, still within this dirty system, maintaining some semblance of pure hope.
Carter had countless times wanted to tell her, wanted to shatter her illusions about Rain, wanted to reveal that this man was not at all who she thought he was.
But he said nothing; he chose silence.
He knew that he had once been like her, filled with hope and believing that the world could change for the better.
He couldn't bear to destroy that hope with his own hands, even though he had completely lost faith in everything.
But every time he saw Keisha still striving for the future, still planning with confidence, still invigorated by Rain's "promise"—
He felt anger.
Not just anger towards Rain, but also towards himself, for his past naivety, and for everything in this world that made him feel powerless.
—Now, he finally understood that the anger with no outlet was the only real thing in this world.
Carter still hadn’t returned to his friends.
He knew he should meet Marco and Jack, should go back to that familiar bar, listen to them vent, cheat alongside them, pretend that nothing had changed, and continue being that cynical bastard with no expectations of the world.
But he couldn’t do it.
He didn’t want to admit his foolishness in front of them.
—To admit that he had once believed in a Politician, to admit that he had thought he could change anything, to admit that he had foolishly placed his hope in someone dirtier than anyone else.
He knew Marco wouldn’t say anything but would look at him with that "I warned you" gaze;
he knew Jack would coldly sneer and say, "I told you so; all Politicians are liars," followed by another one of his endless conspiracy theories;
he knew Tommy would drunkenly pat his shoulder, mumbling things no one could understand, before shoving a bottle into his hand and saying, "Come on, drink up."
Everything was too terrifying for him to bear.
At least for now, he didn't want to.
So, he chose to stay by Rain's side, continuing to do what he needed to do, allowing time to wash away his feelings of humiliation like a silent river.
Days passed one after another, and Rain's approval ratings soared, leaving all his competitors far behind.
Wherever he went, it was as if a king had descended; supporters shouted his name in a frenzy, welcoming him like a savior.
This also made Carter's job increasingly burdensome.
As Election Day drew nearer, the rallies grew more intense, and the crowd's fervor reached its peak. Every speech and every street campaign felt like a small battle, with Carter standing at the forefront, responsible for protecting "This World's Hope."
His role had quietly transformed; he was no longer just Rain's personal security but had been promoted to Captain Carter, fully in charge of Rain's safety.
This meant he had access to more resources, greater power, and increased influence. But at the same time, it meant that his bond with Rain deepened, making it even harder to extricate himself.
Carter understood this better than anyone.
But now, he no longer cared.
His anger had cooled into ashes, and his soul was gradually becoming numb in this political game.
Finally, Voting Day arrived, marking the final showdown of this long war.
The central park had been transformed by Rain's campaign team into a temporary battlefield, a grand political carnival.
The entire venue was brightly lit, resembling a city that never sleeps. In the center of the square stood a massive stage, surrounded by banners displaying Rain's campaign slogans and party emblem. The slogans boldly proclaimed his campaign motto: "Empower the People Again!" The large, vivid letters served as an absolute declaration, constantly reminding everyone present that Rain's victory was unshakeable.
However, what truly captured everyone's attention was the enormous projection screen hanging above the stage.
The screen resembled a data altar, continuously updating the vote counts from various regions. Blue numbers represented Rain, while red indicated his main opponent. Each time the blue numbers flickered, deafening cheers erupted from the crowd, as if they were rallying for an unstoppable offensive.
Supporters waved flags and chanted Rain's name, witnessing what felt like a sacred ritual.
The crowd surged with people from all walks of life—young students, blue-collar workers wearing hard hats, office employees in dress shirts, and retirees with heads full of gray hair.
They were all visibly excited, as if waiting for a historic moment, believing that today would determine their future's fate.
But this was not merely a political event; it resembled a religious ceremony where believers gathered to fervently worship their leader. And Rain was seen as the savior who would bring forth a new world.
Yet, it wasn't just these ordinary voters driving this "holy war."
Amidst the jubilant tide, there lurked a group of more influential "behind-the-scenes players."
Party workers moved through the crowd, ensuring that the atmosphere remained electric. They carried placards reading "Victory for Rain" and took photos with supporters while continuously sending real-time updates to keep everyone immersed in the victorious ambiance.
Influencers and journalists stood in different corners, their Live Broadcast cameras focused on the projection screen and Rain's supporters. They described the intensity of this electoral battle in dramatic tones, stirring up excitement among online viewers and ensuring that this war was not only happening on-site but also on millions of screens.
Whenever Rain's numbers surged significantly, it felt as though the venue had been ignited; supporters erupted into thunderous applause, creating an atmosphere so fervent it was almost suffocating.
Everything was meticulously arranged.
In the front row of the stage area sat a group of "heavyweights" from the political and business worlds.
High-ranking party officials, local politicians, entrepreneurs, and even rivals who had competed against Rain during the election campaign—all of them wore professional smiles as they took turns stepping onto the stage to deliver brief speeches, praising Rain while emphasizing the "historic significance" of this election.
They understood that this was a reshuffling of power.
Even those who had once opposed Rain chose to stand by his side at this moment because the rules of politics were simple—today's enemy could very well be tomorrow's ally.
All of this was to ensure that the supporters' enthusiasm would not wane, to guarantee that the celebration would continue until the very last moment, and to make certain that Rain's victory would encounter no unexpected hurdles.
Carter stood at the edge of the crowd, quietly observing it all like an outsider.
He did not wave any flags, nor did he join in the shouting; he didn't even wear an expression of excitement.
He simply watched in silence as this fervent spectacle unfolded, observing those who shouted "Victory for the People," and how this stage skillfully manipulated everyone involved.
He had once stood on this stage, inspired by Rain's words and invigorated by the crowd's enthusiasm; he had once believed he was part of this "Revolution."
But now, he was merely a spectator.
A bystander on the periphery, coldly watching this absurd farce unfold.
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