A June evening fell on Warsaw like a heavy curtain, and the smell of heated asphalt was in the air. Seventeen-year-old Julek was searching the attic of the old tenement house where he had recently moved in with his family. Among boxes, books in German and yellowed photographs, he found a small metal box. Its lid was decorated with an engraved number: 1901. The box opened with a quiet click. Inside lay a pocket watch, completely different from the ones he had seen in the shop. The dial was black, the hands moved as if independently of each other, and there was an engraving on the back: "Chronos non dormit". He wiped the glass and felt a tingling sensation in his hands. At the same moment, the watch started ticking, faster and faster, louder and louder. Julek looked around puzzled. The clock on the wall had stopped. The old armchair and the bookshelf began to blur, the outlines flowing away like a dissolved painting. He wanted to put the watch down, but his fingers seemed to refuse to obey. He heard a strange noise, reminiscent of a thunderstorm, although the sky was clear. Suddenly he dropped to his knees, feeling dizzy. The floor disappeared from under his feet. When Julek opened his eyes, he was in the middle of a cobbled market square. There were people in strange clothes circling around - hats with ribbons, coats with feathers, carriages harnessed to horses he didn't know. There was smoke in the air, but it didn't smell like exhaust fumes, just incense. The watch pulsed with light, and Julek noticed that the hands were retreating faster and faster. Something must have gone wrong. He was no longer on his own time. As he tried to hide the watch, he heard someone's stiff, anxious whisper behind him: "You found him first, so it's up to you to hurry up - before he finds you." Julek turned abruptly, but all he saw was a shimmering hooded silhouette and a shadow approaching faster than his heart was beating.