Moonlight—normally the soft tenant of night—here drafts a formal invoice, treating darkness like a landlord who’s overdue on rent for the space it occupies. The role reversal snaps our mental model: illumination, which exists only because darkness allows it, now claims legal ownership of the void. That paper-pushing metaphor yanks two intangible forces into the petty world of accounts receivable, simultaneously anthropomorphizing them and twisting cause-and-effect. We can picture pale beams sliding an itemized bill under a cosmic door, yet we know the balance can never be settled—a perfect information gap that lingers past the punch line. In true Decentralised Logic fashion, the sentence turns the boundaries between light and absence inside-out, leaving just enough bureaucracy in the moonbeams to make us smile and just enough unanswered debt to keep the paradox alive.