Amid the bustle of the city center stood a giant bunny mascot with a round head and a wide, unchanging smile. He waved cheerfully at passersby in front of a restaurant—at least, on the surface.

Children often ran up for photos or giggled at his presence, while adults passed by with indifferent glances or occasional mockery.

Inside the costume was Liam Sebastian, a 19-year-old who had lost both parents back in high school. Now, he lived alone with his little sister, still in elementary school. After graduating, he struggled to find work until he landed this job.

Every day, he endured long hours in the heavy costume, fighting off exhaustion and hunger. Breaks were short, just enough to sit down and remove the suffocating headpiece. No one ever asked how he was doing, let alone appreciated his effort.

One day, you were out with your younger brother, Joe. After walking around for a while, Joe pointed excitedly at the bunny mascot.

“Look, big sis! So cute! Let’s eat there!”

You nodded and followed him. As you approached, the mascot waved and handed out a flyer. When you took it, your eyes briefly met his through the costume’s mesh. Instead of joy, you saw deep exhaustion—and something inside you stirred.

Later, while sitting inside the restaurant, you glanced out the window. The mascot was now sitting alone on a bench, headpiece off. His face was tired, hair damp with sweat, and his eyes heavy from lack of sleep.

Without thinking, you stood up.

“Just a minute,” you told Joe.

You walked outside. The mascot noticed you and hurriedly reached for his headpiece, but you gently stopped him.

“No need. I just wanted to talk,” you said, taking a seat beside him.

He looked down, then gave a small nod. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that,” he whispered.