I ended up paying the two grand.
Why? Mainly because I could afford it. The Bureau pays well—too well, honestly—and the bonus I'd gotten from resolving the Nine-Frequency Anomaly? That thing alone could've covered a month's worth of terrible financial decisions. Which was good, because I had plenty of those.
'And here I go again… buying mysterious glowing soul-flames from shady men in fancy cloaks.'
'God, I really do have a spending problem.'
I tried to rationalize it.
The Moon-Soul Ember might help me understand my duplicate souls. Or maybe my origin. Or maybe it'll just explode dramatically the moment I open the jar.
Who knows?
It took me a few seconds to store the item inside the pocketwatch inventory. The moment I did, the hooded vendor—Ezikiel, supposedly—stopped counting the stack of bills I'd handed him. His smile grew so wide it threatened to fall off his face.
"Boss, is that pocketwatch up for sale? Or maybe even up for a trade?"
He clasped his hands together eagerly, like a scam caller who could smell fresh prey.
"…No."
'Doubt it ever will be.'
Ezikiel's shoulders slumped as dramatically as a stage actor in a bad tragedy. His smile drooped into something pitiful.
"Please bring it to me if you ever feel like selling it, Boss! I'd be willing to pay—or exchange—a very decent sum." He pressed a hand to his chest, then brightened. "I'm Ezikiel, by the way."
He definitely made that name up.
"Uh… Weaver," I replied.
His eyes sparkled. "A pleasure! So tell me, Boss, would you like to buy anything else? Maybe a fruit for the road?"
He gestured proudly toward a large woven basket filled with colorful produce.
I gave it a glance.
'These fruits… they aren't even Anomalous Items.'
'He's literally selling normal snacks in the middle of an anomaly market.'
"I'm not interest—"
My words died.
My blood froze.
Buried beneath a cluster of red, gold, and speckled fruits… was something white.
A white apple.
Not just any white apple—the same kind I'd seen in the Diner Anomaly. The same type the Vice-Director himself had secretly placed into my pocketwatch storage, with no explanation.
This wasn't coincidence.
Couldn't be.
"Actually…" I said slowly, pointing into the basket, "how much for this white apple?"
Ezikiel leaned in, blinking as if he hadn't noticed it was there. His eyes flicked left and right, gears turning behind them—sluggishly.
"That one?" He scratched his cheek. "Uh… two hundred? But! For VIPs like you, Boss—only one hundred!"
That hesitation… suspicious.
"And what does it do?" I asked, voice flat.
He froze. His smile twitched. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"Well, it's… magical!"
His hands flailed.
"It, uh, heals your taste buds! And tastes better than any food you've ever had! And—and—grants you a favor with the White Apple God?"
That last part sounded like he made it up on the spot. Badly.
'He's selling a potentially dangerous anomalous artifact without even knowing what it does?!'
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Spare me the talk. I'll buy it anyway."
Ezikiel's relief was instant and nearly radiant.
"Excellent choice, Boss!" he chirped, handing me the apple the moment I passed over the money.
I immediately stored the white apple in the pocketwatch—better to keep it sealed away than let it breathe on me.
With a curt nod, I said my goodbyes and left his stall.
And once more, I stepped into the living river of the Golden Moon Parade Market.
---
The moment I rejoined the street, the atmosphere swallowed me whole.
Lanterns drifted above like golden fireflies, bobbing in time with the drums echoing from somewhere deep within the parade. Their light washed everything in warm, honeyed tones—humans, anomalies, stalls, even the air itself. The cobblestones beneath my boots pulsed faintly, as if they shared a heartbeat with the music.
On my left, a procession of dancers folded from paper twirled weightlessly, scattering shimmering gold dust that tingled on my skin like warm static. On my right, a group of masked humans bargained enthusiastically with a cluster of floating wooden masks, who clicked their beaks in something resembling polite conversation.
The air smelled like spices, ink, fresh fruit, and a sweetness I couldn't place—something like warm starlight, if starlight had a taste.
Everywhere I looked, something moved, shimmered, twisted, or hummed.
A transparent creature shaped like a serpent slithered through the crowd, its body filled with drifting constellations. A vendor made of smoke lifted cups of liquid dreamstuff for passing customers. A pair of child-sized wooden dolls tugged a floating crate behind them, each footstep clicking like a metronome.
Despite how chaotic it all appeared… nothing felt hostile. Just alive. Vibrant. Dangerous in a way that didn't feel pointed at me.
'This place… really is a sanctuary, huh?'
'I'm starting to really like it here.'
Which was stupid.
Very stupid.
This place was still deadly—every corner packed with things that could kill me so quickly I wouldn't even register the danger. But it was glued together by ancient rules even anomalies didn't dare challenge.
As I moved deeper, the items resting inside my pocketwatch felt heavier.
The Moon-Soul Ember.
The white apple.
The book I'd borrowed from the Fox Library.
'I should probably return that one of these days… before they send someone to retrieve my spine.'
I exhaled, lantern-light washing over me like a warm tide.
'Alright,' I thought, rolling my shoulders. 'Let's explore a little more.'
The music rose—not loud, but deep, resonant, like it vibrated through bone rather than air. The lanterns swayed in gentle arcs above me, releasing tiny ribbons of gold that drifted like fireflies. The laughter of humans mixed with the hums, chitters, and resonant bell-tones of anomalies.
And I found myself smiling. Relaxing. Lowering my guard.
A dangerous thing to do in a place like this.
The parade, the warmth, the music—it all softened the edges of my instinctive fear. Even passing anomalies that could obliterate me didn't trigger the usual panic. I felt… comfortable.
Too comfortable.
'It's a double-edged sword,' I admitted.
'Nice not to feel hunted. Terrible for my survival instinct.'
I wandered for another five minutes, letting the crowd carry me. Then something caught my eye—an open stall tucked between two lantern poles. A jar sat atop the table. Same size. Same shape. Same carved runic lines along the lid.
But the flame inside was gold instead of silver.
Curiosity pulled me closer before common sense could catch up.
I looked up at the vendor—
—and froze.
While its limbs looked vaguely human, everything else screamed the opposite. Its body was covered in matted black fur, parts rotted away to reveal sickly, blood-stained flesh. Three mouths—jagged with razor teeth—sat where its eyes should have been. Six bright yellow eyes blinked across its face in random places, each focusing on me independently.
A chill shot down my spine. Sweat broke across my back instantly.
"C–Can I maybe… inspect this item?" I asked, hating the shaky tremor in my voice.
Two of its mouths stretched, moving.
A sound came out.
A gurgling, grinding noise that vaguely resembled a yes.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
Still, I reached out.
I picked up the jar carefully.
'Yup. Exact same as the other one—only the color of the flame is d—'
Something sharp.
Something cold.
Something wrong.
A sudden pressure built behind my left eye.
Then—
A white-hot spike of agony detonated through my skull.
My scream tore out of me before I even knew I was screaming.
I dropped the jar with a clatter and collapsed to my knees, both hands flying to my face—only to feel something wet. Hollow. Wrong.
My fingers sank into an empty socket.
A raw, primal terror seized my chest. The world spun violently, lanterns smearing into streaks of gold as pain devoured my senses.
A sound—wet and crunching—echoed above me.
I forced my good eye upward.
The creature was holding my eye.
My actual eye.
Pinched delicately between two clawed fingers like a rare gem.
It raised it to one of its mouths— And laughed.
Not human laughter.
Not anything that should exist.
A gnarled, jagged howl of delight that vibrated through the marrow of my bones.
Blood poured down my cheek, hot and slick, dripping into my mouth with a copper tang. The pain didn't stay in my face—it crawled. It spread. It pulsed through my skull like something was trying to push its way out through the hole the creature had carved.
'It took— It took my eye—'
'I didn't— I didn't agree to any payment—'
'I didn't—'
Thoughts came but shattered instantly, drowned by a tidal wave of agony that crashed again and again.
My vision blurred.
My breathing hitched and broke.
My hands trembled uncontrollably as I clutched the empty socket, trying to hold reality together.
The creature leaned forward, six unblinking eyes watching me writhe, savoring every second.
That thing—
That anomaly—
Had taken my eye as payment.
And there was nothing I could do but scream.