The antiquarian bookshop at 17 Lunar Street was a place where one enters by chance and leaves - transformed. In the semi-darkness, among the shelves bending under the weight of books, porcelain figurines, clocks and boxes, time passed differently. Piotr, recently a philosophy student, had ended up there on a rainy evening, looking for a cheap volume of poetry. He did not suspect that he would encounter anything more that day than the smell of old pages and the creaking of wooden floors. Behind the counter stood Mrs Natalia - a petite woman with silver hair pinned up in a bun and eyes like two bright steel nails. She had a habit of keeping a close eye on anyone who crossed the threshold of her kingdom. Peter felt slightly uncomfortable as her gaze slid over him before returning to the newspaper he was reading. The boy made his way through more alleys, inhaling the scent of leather and dust. Just around the corner, he noticed a small table on which various trinkets were piled - an old brass lamp, a porcelain fox and a a teacup decorated with roses, looking as if it was about to speak. He raised it to the light, staring at the delicate crack on the ear. Suddenly he heard a whisper. He was sure he had overheard, but the voice repeated itself: - Careful! Not everyone likes to be looked under! Peter stiffened, but did not let the cup out of his hands. He set it down gently, looking around nervously. Then the light flashed. - All of us here sometimes feel... abandoned - the bulbous voice whispered. - Only a few can hear us so clearly. You are one of them, aren't you? Peter turned abruptly. The porcelain fox stretched lazily, yawned and said: - Don't be afraid. That you can see and hear is a gift. But also a responsibility. Peter's heart sped up. The lamp flashed a third time, this time more clearly, as if to guide him. The boy, intrigued, followed the light through the maze of bookcases. He reached the door leading to the back room - a door he had not noticed before. On the handle hung a key with a strange carved mark. Peter hesitated, hearing the increasingly distinct whispers of objects around him: - Come in... We're waiting... He gently turned the key and the door swung open, revealing an interior plunged into semi-darkness, full of objects flickering in the faint glow of a lamp. Inside, he sensed an intense tension, as if the entire antique shop had held its breath. Peter took his first step into the unknown, unaware of who - or what - was waiting for him on the other side.