SCENE 1. To Actor Perry Humble

The theater lobby was quiet late at night after the performance ended, with everyone from the audience to the lighting technicians having left. Just as an elderly security guard was yawning while checking the doors, the rhythmic sound of boots and a cane crossed the lobby.

Medium height, thin frame, light brown hair swaying below the shoulder blades. The old man, who had been looking around aimlessly, brightened briefly upon seeing the cream-colored coat hem.

“Ms. Humble! Leaving now?”

“Yes, I’m a bit late, aren’t I?”

“Not at all. But you didn’t join the other actors for a celebration.”

It had been about an hour since faces still wearing stage makeup had noisily exited through the main entrance. The old man added, as if feeling regretful:

“It was the final performance, after all.”

“Ah, I… just enjoy being on stage. I meant to stay only a moment, but…”

Her pale lips, free of makeup, formed a gentle smile. She had an unassuming appearance that would go unnoticed among prominent actors. The security guard stared at her unremarkable face before belatedly remembering a certain request.

“Oh my, look at me. Just a moment, here!”

He had kept it safely tucked in his jacket’s inner pocket, afraid of losing it. A thick envelope was thrust toward the young woman’s solar plexus. She accepted the letter without much surprise.

“Who is it from this time?”

“What do you mean, who?”

“Riol? Serum? Or someone else?”

Even though it was a small theater production away from the bustling downtown, the lead roles were filled by actors making names for themselves. It was common for people to pass along letters or gifts to them. Perry Humble had been one of those delivery people during the performance run.

“But I’m sorry, the show’s over, and I’m not in regular contact with them. It might be better to deliver it to the theater company—”

“It’s for you, Ms. Humble!”

A small spark appeared in her calm, dark eyes. The old man quickly continued, fearing the young woman might misunderstand again.

“Look closely. ‘To Actor Perry Humble,’ it says right there. Need reading glasses? Want to borrow mine?”

“It’s fine, other people’s don’t work for me… This letter is really for me?”

“That’s what I’m saying! After the show ended, some well-dressed gentleman asked me to deliver it.”

“Gentleman?”

“Quite tall. Not the bookish type. Do you know him? It was rather dark over here so I couldn’t see clearly, but his face was quite…”

“Not at all.”

“Then he must be a real fan! My goodness!”

Her hand holding the letter tightened. Black text on cream-colored paper. The woman brought the letter close enough that her eyelashes nearly touched it as she read.

To Actor Perry Humble, in a distinctive handwriting with elongated vowels.

※※※

[To Actor Perry Humble,

Hello, Ms. Humble. It’s been a while since I’ve written a letter like this—the first time since becoming an adult, actually—so it feels awkward. Moreover, this is my first fan letter, so please excuse my clumsiness.

First, I must confess that I’m not one to get swept away by anything called art. Paintings that leave others mesmerized, orchestras with worldwide acclaim, or emotional verses of poetry—none of these stir anything in me.

Rather, I find satisfaction in a hearty meal or even getting fitted for a new pair of shoes.

I’ve digressed, but what I want to say is… that before your acting, all such preferences became meaningless.

Yes, well, this is rather embarrassing. I’m not even sure if I’m using the right words. In everyday life, I never write letters for this purpose.

So, yes. Please understand that I’m not trying to boast about being naturally reserved or anything like that. I beg you to remember that I am extremely inept at this type of communication.

No, that’s not right. You have no obligation or need to remember my circumstances. I simply want to tell you that your acting was extraordinary. If perfection exists in this world, I am confident it resembles you standing on stage.

Since you cannot see your own performance, how terribly unfortunate.

That this stirring emotion, this pure joy as an audience member, cannot be experienced by the very person who creates it. Though obvious, how absurd is that?

You are, without a doubt, the best. At least among all the actors I know.

Please don’t misunderstand. This isn’t a hasty judgment made after seeing just one performance. Though anyone with proper discernment would never be the same after seeing your acting even once.

Separately, this wasn’t my first time seeing you perform, nor was this play my first.

The clueless maid in “Shuli and the Lady,” the daughter of the female protagonist’s friend’s mother in “A Midsummer Commotion,” and the student in “The Secret of Merhi Manor.”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t attend every performance you were in—I have an irregular work schedule—but I try to see them all whenever possible.

Because I don’t want to miss seeing you act.

From the audience, you always become the character itself. From your gait to when you inhale and exhale. No one would guess that the maid in “Shuli and the Lady” and the student in “The Secret of Merhi Manor” are played by the same actor.

Do you remember the performance around this time last year—probably December 12th? When the candle, an important prop, went out, you improvised your lines and actions to keep the play going. Meanwhile, the lead actor stumbled over their lines seven times out of nervousness.

I’m writing in a hurry, so my sentences are a mess. What I mean is… I support you. With all my heart. I wanted to tell you that.

Perhaps this is just a childish display to let you know I might be your first fan. Or maybe it’s the enchantment of the year-end atmosphere.

With Witch Isobel’s feast day approaching, I wish you peaceful days and exciting nights. I’ll wait for your next work with unwavering devotion.

December 15,

From an anonymous fan.

P.S. Now that I think about it, I might not be your first fan. Someone more proactive might have already expressed strong support and affection. Even if that’s the case, my feelings for you won’t change.]