At 5 AM, the phone crackled. “Someone used one of the spare yellow suits yesterday. A yellow one. You know the one. I’m glad I’m not you. Seriously.”

Jeremy returned. The animatronics were berserk. Toy Bonnie didn’t pause at the mask. Withered Freddy ignored the lights. The music box ran down in seconds. The Puppet was already free.

Then the music box in Prize Corner started winding down.

He didn’t run. He looked at the camera one last time. The Puppet was inside the gift box. Inside the gift box, a photo: five children smiling. And one man in a security uniform—the previous guard—whose nameplate read “Schmidt.”

Jeremy heard the music stop. A child’s laughter echoed. The Puppet’s long, thin body drifted past the camera, dragging striped arms. Jeremy slammed the mask down just as it reached the doorway. It paused. Stared into his soul. Then slid away.

Jeremy learned to juggle: wind the music box, check the left vent light, check the right vent light, flash the hallway beacon, mask on, mask off. Toy Chica’s eyes appeared in the left vent. He slapped on the Freddy mask. She stared. Turned away. He exhaled.

Jeremy wore the mask. The Yellow Rabbit tilted its head. And laughed.