The old town was bustling even late at night, but the courtyard of the Tenement under the Clock was unusually quiet. Julia and Michael, first-year archaeology students, were just finishing unpacking the last boxes in their new flat - a small but charming unit on the third floor of the historic building. The quiet ticking of clocks hanging on every wall and even on the bathroom door was the first thing that caught Julia's attention. "I wonder if the owner collected antiques," she said with a slight smile, running her finger over the dust-covered dial of one of them. The clocks, however, did not show the same time, and some of their hands moved in opposite directions. Michael, intrigued, tried to wind the largest clock standing in the corner - with an inscription engraved on the brass plate: "Time does not flow here like it does elsewhere". After dinner, as the town slowly quietened and the clatter of heels echoed from the courtyard, Julia noticed that one of the clocks had started to make a quiet, irregular sound, as if someone was trying to tap the glass from inside. Michael joked that it was probably the ghost of an old clockmaker, but even he lacked certainty in his voice. As they slowly began to unpack for sleep, the clock on the dresser spoke more clearly - a quiet whispering seemed to come from behind the glass pane. Julia, somewhat frightened, touched the door of the clock. Suddenly, the clock flashed with a soft, celadon light and the hands abruptly moved back two hours. A shadow appeared on the wall, resembling the figure of a man with a key in his hand. Michael tried to take a picture, but his phone crashed and the screen darkened. At the same moment, a neatly folded, yellowed piece of paper fell out from inside the clock. Julia and Michal looked at each other in disbelief. The piece of paper bore a mysterious coded text and a drawing pointing to the basement of the townhouse. The thick smell of old oak swirled in the air, and distant but increasingly loud footsteps could be heard from the stairwell....