Make the audience laugh, or become a seat. That is the law of the world after the "Great Awkward Silence."
Lin Mo, a funeral home intern born with a deadpan face, wakes up in Seat 199 of the Bronze Theater after suffering a heart attack in the morgue. Livor mortis spreads across his left hand, while the countdown on the laughing-gas meter in his right hand ticks down to zero. Facing 100 "Laughing Wraiths" that feed on suffering, he speaks without changing expression: "Why are mathematicians always gloomy? Because they have too many problems."
His absurd pun draws a roar of laughter and reveals a horrifying truth: this is the stomach of the God of Comedy, and everyone here is a joke being digested. When Wang Jia, with her rainbow-colored hair, scores high with the dirty joke "Mushrooms are fun guys," and Old Zhou, whose left hand has turned transparent, becomes a red curtain after his third flop, Lin Mo realizes he is no ordinary person. He is the "vessel" bearing the God of Tragedy, the only paradox in the 199th cycle capable of "laughing without laughing."
As the "Three-Second Gag Roulette" turns the stage blood-red and the Zodiac Jury sheds its hypocritical masks, Lin Mo must choose between "telling jokes to survive" and "making the gods weep." Because in this world, the highest form of comedy is turning tragedy itself into a joke.
"Tragedy comes three days before comedy, and I've already been dead for three days."
