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Play as Iris, a burnt-out goddess who opens a midnight bakery in a sleepless city. Read customers’ emotions as color and craft cakes to comfort them, while hiding from the gods searching for her.
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“I thought if I kept delivering prophecies for 2,000 years, everything would turn out fine. I was wrong.”
Iris was once a messenger of the gods. Burdened by the weight of divine commands and human prayers, she eventually burned out and made a choice no one expected — she ran away.
Now, in a quiet corner of Eos City, the city that never sleeps, she runs a small bakery that only opens at night, baking the hidden emotions of her customers into cakes. And at the same time, she must protect the fragile life she has built, while staying one step ahead of the gods who are still searching for her.
Read emotions as color.
Choose ingredients.
Color the cake.
In Iris and the Moonlight Bakery, you don’t just follow recipes—you read what can’t be said. Through Iris’s eyes, emotions appear as color: a lonely violet, a restless orange, a soft, bittersweet apricot. Your job is to understand these colors and turn them into something real.
But even in a city that never sleeps, the past has a way of catching up.
The gods she ran from are looking for her.
And the rent is always due.
🎨 Emotion-to-Color Gameplay
Read emotions as color and turn them into cakes.
🎂 Hand-Colored Cakes
Every cake is hand-colored by you. No two results are the same.
📱 Late-Night Messages
Orders arrive through a social media-style feed. Read between the lines.
🏛️ Modern Mythology
Gods live quietly among humans in a contemporary city.
⚖️ Four Endings, Meaningful Choices
Four story routes shaped by the relationships you build. Every decision has weight.
🌙 Cozy with an Edge
A calm atmosphere with undercurrents of tension, humor, and loneliness.
Love narrative-driven experiences where listening matters.
Enjoy cozy systems with emotional depth.
Are drawn to stories about people—even when those people are gods.
Have ever wanted to run away and start over.
The bakery opens at night.
The coffee is forgettable.
The cakes—and the stories baked into them—are not.
