With a quiet sense of resolve, I decided to follow through with my promise to Sophia. If she was offering help—strange as her methods might be—it wouldn’t hurt to meet her halfway.

  While Lex was busy prepping for the next day, I slipped into the bathroom. On the sink sat a brush, its bristles catching glints of light from a few golden strands. Lex’s hair. I gently plucked one or two and tucked them into the folds of the disguise he’d given me. It felt a bit odd, sure—but then again, nothing about this week had been ordinary.

  I made sure the monocle was secured too. Better to have it with me, even if I wasn’t sure why.

  As I stepped back out, I asked Lex casually, “By the way... did you notice anything unusual inside the parish?”

  He looked up, thoughtful for a moment. “Actually—yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”

  He folded a shirt, then added, “Behind the main altar, there was this sun symbol. But not the usual kind. It was darker—almost black. Didn’t look like it belonged there.”

  I frowned. “Aren’t all the temples supposed to follow the same layout?”

  “Yeah, under the Common Infrastructure Act,” he said, nodding. “Supposed to keep things standardized—fair, familiar. But this symbol felt older. Different. Like someone snuck it in or left it behind on purpose.”

  He shrugged, then smiled faintly. “Could just be old decoration. Or maybe this place had history before the reforms.”

  “Maybe,” I echoed, filing the detail away.

  Black sun imagery. Sophia. The nuns. The monocle. Nothing pointed in a clear direction yet—but threads were starting to tug.

  Lets just call it a day for today and see what the monocle reveals.

  Rise and shine.

  Kinda happy no dreams took hold of me tonight.

  The sun is boring into my face. I lie there, contemplating what would happen if I looked at it through the monocle. Just as I was about to put it on, Lex grabs my hand.

  Startled, I ask him, "Why are you grabbing me?"

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  He responds flatly, "Protecting your vision. Didn’t they tell you when you were a kid? Never look directly at the sun—you'll go blind."

  He says it solemnly. He’s not smiling.

  There’s something he’s not telling me.

  Against my better judgment, I decide to trust him. Maybe it’s the guilt from pocketing the hair without saying a word. (Not, of course, because the last time I used that damned monocle, I ended up strapped to a table in some deranged doctor’s office who claimed he’d brought me back from the dead and wanted to be paid in arms.)

  Nope. Definitely not because of that.

  I slip into the uniform Lex gave me, take the invitation, and head out—hopefully for the last time—to that godforsaken parish.

  Finally, I reached the parish. Lex had already gone inside, telling me he was nearly done with his observations. I told him—half-joking, half-sincere—that if I was lucky, I’d find where the donations were stored. And maybe, if fortune smiled twice, something incriminating. If I could dig up the right kind of dirt, snitching to the commissars could open up opportunities for disruption… maybe even buy me another shot at inspecting the altar.

  While ruminating on this hopeful little scheme, I spotted her—Sophia. Standing at the corner like a stray thought you couldn’t quite shake. She beckoned me closer with a flick of her fingers. Almost desperate.

  “Have you got what I asked for, dear?” she asked, her voice brushing up against me like silk soaked in wine.

  “I’ve got the goods,” I replied, fishing the bundle out.

  She examined it—and I caught the shift. The subtle fracture in her smile. A sliver of disappointment broke through the mask.

  “No, no… you’ve brought the wrong goods,” she said, voice low but amused. “But I suppose you failed in an amusing manner.”

  Then, with the grace of someone still enjoying the game, she added, “I’ll be generous today and offer you a small token. Don’t take it as a reward… think of it as a service.”

  She placed a single glove in my hand—stitched from dark fabric, with a softly glowing moon embroidered on the back. It pulsed faintly, like it had a breath of its own.

  I stared at it. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s a guarantee,” she said simply. “You’ll see.” Then came the smile.

  I nodded, tucked the glove away, and turned to leave.

  As I got farther, I heard a low cackle behind me.

  I looked back.

  She wasn’t there.

  ***

  Before leaving

  I slip on the glove, and pain flares up instantly—a searing heat surging through my hand, so intense I nearly scream and retch on the spot. It’s all I can do to stumble forward, barely making it out of the alley before collapsing against the wall. Instinct kicks in—I try to tear it off, but the glove clings to my skin like it's part of me now. No matter how I pull, it won’t budge.

  I’ve never believed in curses. Not really. But between the unholy glow of that eerie door, the sun monocle, and now this—I’m starting to wonder just how far I’ve wandered from reason.

  I curse Sophia under my breath, fury and fear bubbling beneath my tongue. I didn’t know then just how much I’d owe her before this was all over.

  Out of morbid curiosity, I raise the monocle to inspect the glove, half-expecting some ethereal glow or mark. But through the lens, there's nothing. It’s not invisible—it’s just not there. The monocle, the eye, refuses to perceive it.