Camillia stood silently for a moment. She didn't raise her hand. She didn't smile or wave. She just stood, waiting for the noise to settle.
The white robe fluttered slightly in the breeze. Light hit the fabric just right, making her look more beautiful. Her face was calm—not proud, not nervous, just still.
Once the crowd's attention was on her, she spoke.
"I'm not here to sell you promises. Or to paint pictures of a future, I can't guarantee." Her voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Few eyebrows lifted. No campaign speech usually started like that.
She glanced at the people closest to her, then back at the crowd.
"I'm not the strongest. Not the smartest. I'm not standing here because of rank or title. I'm here because I listened. "
"I stood with the ones who suffered. And I learned a lot—more than rules or money, people need a person they can trust. Everything else comes after that."
She paused, letting the silence settle.
