Cid adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, glancing at himself one last time in the mirror. His suit, simple yet elegant, fit him perfectly. Yet, he couldn't feel at ease. Tonight, he would be in front of the cameras, exposed to the questions of journalists and the public.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had never been much of a talker. He let his work speak for him, and that suited him. But he also knew that while some saw this silence as humility, others saw it as weakness.
— Mr. Cid, it's time.
A production assistant knocked on the door. Cid nodded and stood up, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the dressing room.
Backstage, the atmosphere was electric. Technicians adjusted the lights, makeup artists gave the final touches to guests, and a few journalists whispered among themselves. As soon as he appeared, some fans cheered.
— Cid! We love you! shouted a young woman, her eyes sparkling.
— Thank you, that means a lot, he replied with a sincere smile.
The host, a man with a commercial smile and relaxed attitude, approached.
— Cid! Delighted to have you tonight. We're eager to hear what you have to say.
— Thank you for the invitation, Cid answered with calm composure.
Applause echoed through the room as his entrance was announced. He took a deep breath and walked onto the set under a thunderous ovation.