Chapter 816: The Final Moment

“The best way to break out of a predicament is to shatter it. Right now, our economic recovery is outpacing most countries in the world.”

“In some regions, unemployment has dropped from over 20% two years ago to just 10%. In early January, the number of people collecting relief food decreased by about 30% compared to the same period last year.”

“All of this shows that the Baylor Federation is quickly emerging from economic recession. Through our efforts, we are breaking the deadlock and forging a new era of greatness.”

“Mr. Lynch once said something that I believe to be absolutely true…” The President smiled as he looked at Lynch seated in the front row of the audience.

Lynch raised his hand and waved slightly in a timely response, completing a small public interaction.

“…He said, The Federation will shine once more.”

In the next moment, a thunderous wave of cheers and applause broke out, catching even the President off guard. He hadn’t anticipated that this single line would strike such a powerful emotional chord with the audience.

People were instantly moved—it was a phrase that lifted morale. Combined with the buildup of the speech, it sparked a collective surge of pride and excitement.

Seeing the reaction, the President beamed. It had worked perfectly. He discreetly drew two lines under the quote in his script and jotted Repeat in the margin.

Once emotions settled and the crowd calmed under his reassurance, he continued.

“One more week, ladies and gentlemen. We have just one week left to count down to the arrival of a great new era.”

“Each of us will become a witness to history—a participant, a creator. We will make history. The Federation will reach the pinnacle of the world in our hands!”

The crowd’s emotions swelled again. Lynch applauded, then leaned slightly to the side and asked, “You wrote the speech?”

Mr. Truman, just back from Gephra, gave a near-imperceptible nod. “Wrote it overnight. He needed something that could stir hearts, so I had to stay up.”

Voting preparations were underway across the country. Though the President said a week, only five days remained.

On Saturday, voting would begin and continue for 24 hours. Counting would start immediately after, and the new President would be confirmed before the end of January.

The final stretch was critical. A powerful speech at this stage could sway undecided voters.

Lynch pursed his lips. “I’ve got the feeling there’ve been a lot of deals between the Progressive and Conservative parties. Think there’ll be any surprises this time?”

“You see right through it…”

Truman wasn’t surprised that Lynch had picked up on the concessions made by the Conservatives ahead of the election.

The President had made it too obvious. His call to face history was really a tactic to shift blame from the Conservative Party to individual scapegoats.

The former President had now been formally charged with misconduct, corruption, and other official crimes. This was no longer a mere investigation—formal charges meant prosecutors had solid evidence, enough to convict.

The trial wouldn’t be about proving innocence, but about negotiating for a lighter sentence.

With the current President helping to whitewash the party, the Conservatives performing a public mea culpa, and the former President being thoroughly discredited, voter sentiment began to shift.

Some people were even publicly burning portraits of the former President—yet they stopped short of dragging the entire party down with him. That was the intended result.

As thanks for this cooperation, the Conservative candidate had completely folded during the debate, left speechless multiple times.

Some media outlets had already dubbed him the dumbest Conservative candidate in thirty years.

Still, everyone got what they wanted. There were no real losers this time.

But even without direct competition from the Conservatives, the President didn’t completely let his guard down. In politics, betrayal at the final moment is hardly rare.

As long as the stakes are high enough, politicians—like businessmen—can be shameless and completely unprincipled.

“How long are you planning to lock up the former President?”

It was a hot topic these days. Many believed it would be just for show, especially among the lower classes.

They doubted that mere charges could truly bring a former President to justice. Though everyone said they believed in the fairness of the law, even sunlight had its shadows—and in the Federation, justice was often decided outside the courtroom.

But others believed he’d really go down. The shift had been too sudden.

Prosecutors who had long claimed insufficient evidence suddenly produced a complete chain of proof. Something had clearly changed behind the scenes.

This view was mostly held by the middle and upper classes, who didn’t just look at appearances—they analyzed details to find the real direction of things.

And those above them? They were the ones pulling the strings.

“As for sentencing—probably about twelve years. But he might not serve even a day.”

Truman’s face twisted into a mocking smile as he spoke.

Whether it was the political deal between the Progressives and Conservatives, or the outcome it produced, the current President represented the most shameless elite in the Federation.

Of course, he kept those thoughts to himself. The President would likely claim medical unsuitability for prison and instead serve his sentence under house arrest.

Some might think being stuck at home was no different from prison—after all, to a citizen of the Federation, freedom mattered more than life.

But anyone who thought that was too naïve. The President’s house was nothing like an ordinary home.

He owned a manor outside Eminence, modeled after a castle in Gephra. It featured a private hunting ground, a multi-functional park, and even a lake.

This wasn’t house arrest. It was pre-retirement luxury.

But it didn’t matter. For the public, even the symbolic punishment of a President was seen as a triumph of justice and popular will.

As the two quietly exchanged remarks that would be considered disrespectful in certain circles, the speech came to its end.

When the President roared “Victory to the Federation! Long live freedom!” the entire venue erupted.

Lynch and Truman stood up, clapping with the right mix of passion and restraint.

The President stepped off the stage, shook hands with the front row in a show of sincerity, and exited—everything executed perfectly.

Over the next few days, Lynch accompanied the President to numerous events. As a young leader of the Federation, the President believed that having him around would help attract younger voters.

After getting fully involved, Lynch realized how difficult being President truly was.

Take the current President, for example—he was already over sixty, and by the standards of this era, practically one foot in the grave. Yet he still pushed himself through intense daily workloads without skipping a single engagement due to health.

A week of effort finally led to the most critical moment.

Many invited guests gathered at the Presidential Palace, waiting for the vote count results.

Even the interns could feel the tense atmosphere. They slowed their breathing, and when entering the conference room, some held their breath entirely, afraid that even the sound of their breath might blow away the Presidency.

The President sat at the table without a shred of composure, gnawing on his fingers like a child chewing their nails.

He was anxious, a little scared, a little hopeful—desperate for a distraction.

“We’ve secured… [state name]!”

A staff member promptly announced the results. A smile spread across the President’s face. He high-fived the others. After a brief celebration, the room returned to tense silence.

The battle was tighter than expected: the Progressive Party had won five states; the Conservative Party, three.

There were seventeen states in the Federation. With nine left to report, the Progressives needed four more to maintain control, and five to clinch victory.

The room quickly filled with smoke—even from cheap mixed cigarettes.

“Open the windows, it’s suffocating!” Truman ordered staff to open every window. The cold was preferable to choking on the fumes.

Even the President had a cigarette in hand. He rarely smoked—at his level, few could tell him what to do—but tonight he’d already gone through several. Crushed cigarette butts littered the floor at his feet.

Cold air drifted in, clearing the air a little. Lynch asked Katherine to call nearby cafés and have them deliver the strongest coffee they had.

Everyone seemed to want to do something, but there was nothing they could really do.

The Conservatives were catching up. When the Progressives had taken seven states, the Conservatives had already secured five.

Five states remained. To avoid dragging the race into overtime, the Progressives needed to win at least three more.

Under the Federation’s election law, only a lead of more than two states counts as a definitive victory.

A one-state lead left too much room for manipulation.

The President, having chewed the nails off his left hand, moved on to his right. His expression twisted—frustrated, angry, even a little manic.