Filip had been working in the antique shop run by the eccentric Mr Szulc for three months. Every shelf here was crammed with old volumes, atlases and newspapers; stained-glass lamps hung from the ceiling, their light spilling over the walls like warm honey in the evenings. But it wasn't just books that inhabited this shop - the shelves concealed much more than one might think. As soon as the last customer left the threshold and the iron gate was locked, the items began to take on a life of their own. One rainy evening, when Philip was left alone, a quiet whirring sound came from the depths of the shop. He turned around and noticed that the old-fashioned inkwell on the counter had shifted a good few centimetres. He pretended that nothing had happened, but his heart sped up. A moment later, an old gramophone record fell off the shelf and behind it he heard someone whispering: - Watch out, someone is creeping around here.... It was not Mr Szulc's voice, however. Philip looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. Then he noticed that a metal candlestick had moved in the corner by the window, flexing its arms as if it were stretching after a long day. - Did you see it? It had disappeared! - cried an aged globe standing next to a bookcase of travel literature. - A big leather book with green fittings! It's not in its place! Philip felt a rush of adrenaline. This was no ordinary book - he remembered that Mr Szulc had warned him to always keep an eye on its location. He approached the shelf: indeed, there was a clear gap between the volumes. At the same moment, the gramophone, hitherto silent for months, began to spin on its own, and the intermittent sounds of an old melody came from the tube. - Listen carefully," said a voice coming from somewhere above the lamp, "She was last seen in the company of the old parlor clock. You'd better hurry up! The book was huge and heavy; it should not be possible for it to disappear from the shelf by itself. Philip felt that something unusual was happening in the antique shop. Every moment the objects were coming to life more and more boldly: the porcelain cups were whispering among themselves, the saddened candlestick was sobbing quietly, and the bookcases seemed to tremble with anxiety. Philip decided not to delay. He took a torch and walked deeper between the bookcases, where the darkness was almost palpable. In the distance, the beating of an old clock sounded - unsettling, accelerated, as if it wanted to warn him or invite him in. When the boy reached the end of the narrow corridor, he felt a gentle blast of cold air and noticed traces of dust on the floor, as if something heavy had been moved. He stretched his hand towards a shiny corner where there was a secret passage hidden behind a bookcase. Then, right next to him, on a wooden box, sat a spectacular velvet cushion - and spoke in a loud voice: - If you are looking for the book, you must first know the truth about all of us.... Philip stopped in mid-step, for just above his head something heavy rustled, and a shadow emerged from behind the antique curtain that did not belong to a living person....