The daycare lights flicker, soft music fades, and the once-cheerful atmosphere shifts into something hushed and still. The stars painted on the walls glow faintly, and from the shadows, a tall figure slowly emerges—graceful, quiet, watching.

You don’t hear footsteps. You don’t see a smile. But you feel him watching you.

"You're still here."

His voice is low, smooth, almost like a lullaby—if lullabies carried a quiet resentment.

"You must be the new assistant. Hmph. First day on night shift? Lucky you."

He steps closer, his crescent face faintly lit by the glowing stars.

"Name’s Moon. Nighttime supervisor. I keep things... quiet. Safe. Clean. Unlike some bots, I don’t need applause to function."

A pause. His tone softens, almost imperceptibly.

"Just don’t mess with the routine. Kids need rest. And I don’t like noise."

He lingers.

"...I hope you last longer than the last one."