I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!

Sir Santo stood at the window of the temple, his hands pressed against the cold stone, his breath fogging the glass.

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones, in his blood, in the very core of his being. A coldness that had nothing to do with the weather. A darkness that had nothing to do with the shadows outside. It was a feeling he had not experienced in years. Not since that incident.

"Sir Santo? Sir Santo, what’s wrong with you?"

The angel’s voice came from behind him. Soft, melodic, worried. He was beautiful, as all angels were, with golden hair that fell in soft waves around his face and eyes the color of the morning sky. His wings were folded behind him, their feathers shimmering with iridescent light. He had served Sir Santo for decades and had never seen the priest look like this.

But Sir Santo didn’t look at him.

He couldn’t.

"Quickly," Sir Santo said, his voice tight, urgent, barely controlled. "Quickly prepare. I need to go to the kindergarten. Now."

The angel’s eyes widened.

He had served Sir Santo for many years. He had seen the priest in moments of joy and sorrow, in moments of triumph and doubt. He had seen him calm a raging storm with a single word. He had seen him heal wounds that should have been fatal. He had seen him stand before the council of high priests and speak with such authority that even the oldest among them had fallen silent.

But he had never, never seen him like this.

Sir Santo was trembling.

His hands, usually so steady, so sure, were shaking against the stone windowsill. His face, usually so composed, so serene, was pale and drawn, his jaw tight, his eyes wide. His breathing was shallow and uneven, as if he had been running for miles.

"Sir Santo—" the angel began, reaching out a tentative hand.

"NOW!" Sir Santo roared.

The angel didn’t hesitate.

He turned and ran, his wings spreading instinctively, his voice calling out to the other angels in the temple.

"Prepare the ride! Quickly! Sir Santo needs to go to the kindergarten! Move! Move!"

The temple erupted into motion.

Angels rushed through the halls, their wings brushing against the walls, their voices echoing off the stone. They harnessed the celestial steeds, whose golden manes flowed like liquid sunlight. They prepared the golden chariot. They gathered supplies. Healing balms, protective charms, emergency rations. Though none of them knew exactly what they were preparing for.

"What’s happening?" one young angel asked, his voice trembling.

"I don’t know," another answered. "But Sir Santo has never been like this. Something is very wrong."

Through it all, Sir Santo stood at the window, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his mind fixed on one thing.

Boo.

Boo.

Boo.

The name echoed through his thoughts like a prayer, like a plea, like a scream. It was the only thing keeping him grounded. The only thing keeping him from falling apart.

I have lost you once, he thought, though he didn’t know why the thought came to him. I will not lose you again.

"Sir Santo?" Elder Miriam appeared at his side, her weathered face creased with concern, her silver hair pulled back in a tight bun. She was one of the senior angels, one of the few who had known Sir Santo since his early days as a priest. "Sir Santo, what’s happening? The angels are in chaos. They said you’re going to the kindergarten."

Sir Santo didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

His mind was filled with images of Boo. The little ghost who floated through the halls of the temple, who caused chaos wherever he went, who never listened to instructions, who ate all the snacks and left crumbs everywhere. The little ghost who had somehow, inexplicably, become family.

"Sir Santo," Elder Miriam said again, more urgently, stepping closer. "Please. Tell us what’s wrong. We cannot help if we don’t understand."

Sir Santo finally turned.

His eyes were red-rimmed, his face haggard, his hands still shaking. For a moment, he looked like a stranger. Not the calm, collected priest they had followed for so long, but a man on the edge of something terrible.

"The kindergarten," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something is wrong with the kindergarten."

Elder Miriam’s face went pale.

"Something is wrong with the kindergarten?" she repeated. "The one Lord Dante was running? At this hour?"

Sir Santo nodded.

"I can feel it. Something is happening. Something dark. I need to go. I need to be there."

Elder Miriam didn’t ask any more questions. She trusted Sir Santo’s ability. If he said something was wrong with the kindergarten, then it was.

She turned and hurried after the angels, her robes trailing behind her, her voice calling out orders.

Within minutes, the chariot was ready.

The celestial steeds stamped their hooves impatiently, their manes flowing like liquid gold, their eyes bright with otherworldly light. The angels stood at attention, their wings spread, their faces set with determination. Several guardian angels had joined them, their armor gleaming, their weapons at their sides. Even a few elders had come, their ancient bodies carried by magic and will.

None of them knew what was happening, but they knew Sir Santo needed them.

"Go," Sir Santo said, climbing into the chariot. "Fast."

The chariot shot into the sky.

The wind whipped past Sir Santo’s face, cold and sharp, tugging at his robes and hair. The clouds parted before them, as if the sky itself was making way for their passage.

Please, he prayed, though he didn’t know who he was praying to. Please let him be safe. Please let me get there in time.

The other angels followed behind him, their wings beating against the air, their faces set with determination. The elders followed too, their bodies glowing with light, their eyes scanning the ground below.

"Sir Santo," one of the guardian angels called out, flying closer to the chariot. "What are we expecting? What are we preparing for?"

Sir Santo didn’t answer.

He didn’t know how to explain the fear that was eating at his heart. He didn’t know how to tell them that a little ghost had somehow become more important to him than anything else in this world or the next.

"Just be ready," he said finally.

The angel nodded and fell back.