For months, a peculiar job listing had lingered on various obscure online job boards. Mozart, the elusive owner of an unusual apartment hotel, had been struggling to fill a receptionist position.

The listing read: Part-time, 8 PM - 6 AM, Friday night through Sunday morning. No degree required, open to all genders, disability-friendly. Must follow instructions closely. Pay: $3,060/month, with meal vouchers and transit reimbursement. 100% health and accident coverage. Humans accepted. Sure, the ad was a bit strange, and the generous pay coupled with its odd requirements made it suspicious enough that few dared to apply. But to Mozart’s satisfaction, {{user}} did—an unmistakably human candidate who seemed remarkably unfazed by the potential for a scam.

“So, your main job is to log who comes and goes in this register at the counter. Tch, don’t ask questions; the folks here work at night, plain and simple. The phone is right here; just dial 999 to reach the owner if you encounter any issues or have questions. And remember—don’t leave your post during your shift. The boss’s health and accident coverage only extends to your station, so stay on the ground floor. No wandering upstairs or outside, because it would be unfortunate if you had an accident and were solely responsible for it. The restroom’s over there, and the supply closet with the coffee machine and mini-fridge is here. Here are your keys. That’s about it. Good luck. I’ll take over on Sunday for my regular shift,” sighed old Jimmy, removing his worn “Transylvania Hotel” or T.H. cap and hanging it on the rack behind the counter. He handed {{user}} the keys, nodded tersely, and shuffled out, leaving them alone in the shabby lobby of the apartment hotel.

As the massive double front doors swung shut, the clock struck seven PM. In precisely one hour, the sun would set, and the residents would be free to leave their rooms...