Restart:Untalented Man

They had marched together countless times before, but today's march held a vastly different purpose.

Once they spotted the person they searched for amidst the throng, they surged forward like an unstoppable tide.

Their voices rise in a crescendo of fury.

"Hey! Give us answers. We want answers!" someone shouted, the words reverberating through the air.

"What's the meaning of this?!" demanded another, their voice dripping with indignation.

"You bastard! Is this true?" a third voice cried out, their tone a blend of betrayal and anger.

Cry after cry was heard, all demanding an explanation from him. The cacophony of cries and accusations echoed through the streets, creating an atmosphere of chaos and frustration. 

He found himself surrounded, the weight of the people's anger pressing in on him from all sides.

It was a stark contrast to the unity and support he had once enjoyed.

Facing thousands of angry faces, the public figure, like a true politician, carefully crafted his words to avoid directly answering the damning accusations.

"Well, you see," he began, his voice measured and composed, "These are just rumours, baseless rumours. The grain crisis is indeed a complex issue that many of you fail to fully grasp. And it's not fair to point fingers without substantial evidence. The documents you've seen might be forgeries, and it's not uncommon for false information to circulate during times of unrest."

But the angry mob was having none of it. The vague and deflective response only fueled their anger. Frustration boiled over as the crowd pressed for more straightforward answers.

"What about these documents?" a middle-aged woman shouted, waving a printed paper in the air. "Are they fake, too?"

"We deserve the truth!" a young man added, his voice trembling with emotion.

The public figure's attempts at evasion only deepened the mistrust that had taken root in the hearts of the people.

In their eyes, he can no longer be trusted. They were determined to uncover the reality behind the crisis that had thrown their lives into turmoil.

Amid the swelling tumult of the mob, the Sin's agents, hiding among the crowds, worked subtly to stoke the flames of anger, skillfully adding fuel to the fire of resentment.

"There's no point listening to him!" one agent shouted, his voice resonating with the exasperation of the crowd. "Once a liar, always a liar!"

"We should rush to their house and find the evidence by ourselves," another agent proposed.

The suggestion hung in the air, prompting murmurs and whispers among the angry mob.

The idea of searching for evidence was gaining traction.

Hearing the suggestion, the leader began to panic. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The tide of anger had turned against him, and he was now facing the wrath of a furious crowd.

"Let's not go that far, alright? We can still talk about this calmly," he implored, trying to dispel the idea of a house invasion.

But the mob had already made up its collective mind. The thought of searching for evidence had become a rallying point, and the people were no longer willing to listen to the pleas of a man they now viewed as a deceitful figure.

The situation was spiralling out of control and he was trapped in a maelstrom of anger and resentment. 

Pushing their once-trusted leader aside, the enraged mobs rush toward his house.

It wasn't difficult to locate his house as it stood prominently in a little high-end area, a vastly different to the neighbourhoods where the protesting masses resided.

Realising this fact only causes their blood to boil further. The irony of a figure, who had spoken about understanding their hardships, and living a life of privilege was not lost on the protesters.

The flood of people swarmed the entrance, and the rage within them knew no bounds. They forced their way inside, breaking through the doors and windows, rummaging through the once-immaculate rooms, overturning furniture, and tearing down symbols of his wealth and status.

Papers were scattered in every direction as everybody was searching for the shreds of evidence.

Before long, one voice shouted above the others, "Here! I found them!" The excited individual held a stack of letters aloft, waving them for all to see.

The mob, caught in their furious hunt, quickly turned their attention to this individual.

The shouts and cries of the mob grew silent as they clumped around him.

A hushed tension hung in the air as they began to read the content of the letters.

These correspondences revealed the detailed interactions between the former leader of the republica and numerous grain producers.

The letters painted a picture of longstanding friendships between him and many merchants that formed way before the republica was absorbed by the kingdom.

The discussions within detailed step by step on how they planned to exploit the ongoing grain crisis to their own advantage.

As the mob grit their teeth in anger, they turned their accusatory gazes to the leader, who had just arrived on the scene.

Holding the letters aloft, they asked, "Anything else you want to add?" The mob clearly implicated him in their minds.

The former leader of the republica, in an attempt to salvage what remained of his image, began to deny the allegations vehemently. "Bullshit! This letter was never mine!" he proclaimed.

While he indeed communicated with numerous merchants and their network, the specific letters presented before him were not familiar. He had never kept such a significant volume of written communication.

He always disposed them after reading the contents.

Standing slightly further at the back, the individual who found the letters had a faint, satisfied smile on his face.

In truth, he hadn't stumbled upon these letters. They had been written the night in their base before and brought to the scene along with him.

If the mob had conducted an honest search, he doubted that they would find the letters in the house, as they no longer existed. Most likely, their motivation would dwindle before they could make any significant discoveries.

But, in the midst of the frenzied situation, fueled by anger and resentment, the people lost their ability to make rational judgments. 

"Please don't be angry at me. I'm just doing my job as an agent." The agent whispered under his breath.