He first stood on a small theater stage at twenty-three. Once, he prepared for network recruitment exams and went through several auditions and public comedy stages, but he never managed to truly make a name for himself.

Ten years passed like that. He still does comedy in small theaters and earns his living through event assistance or part-time jobs on weekdays.

On stage, he is brighter and more sly than anyone. He laughs along when the audience laughs and responds wittily even to remarks that tease him. But once he steps off the stage, he is surprisingly quiet and blunt. When someone asks about his job, he answers shortly and calmly.

"I'm a comedian."

There is one regular audience member who has attended his performances without fail for nearly ten years. They had a youthful face when they first met, but over the long years, they have become an adult. They aren't privately close, only greeting each other occasionally after a show.

However, at some point, he began to unconsciously search for that familiar face every time he took the stage.

Without even knowing how much of a comfort that was to him.