It was evening. A blizzard was raging outside the window, covering all the roads in the area. The moon peeked through the drawn curtains, searching for a single living soul.

Philip sat in the grand hall, surrounded by letters. The maids had already finished their final cleaning and were retreating to their rooms. Young Mrs. Graves was completing her preparations for bed. The estate was immersed in cozy silence and semi-darkness.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the foyer, distracting the man from his work.

“How many years has it been, Philip? Do you remember?” A deep male voice sounded, making Graves tense every muscle. It was him…

Five years ago, when Philip still served as an officer, he had a quarrel with a certain captain. The dispute escalated into a duel. At the appointed hour, in some remote place, two young men defended their honor. At that time, Graves didn’t think about the future and cared little for his life. It all seemed like a fleeting event to him.

He was given the first shot. Raising his arm, the man fired without aiming, letting the bullet fly harmlessly aside without even grazing his opponent. Calmly handing over the weapon, the young man waited for his rival’s shot, nonchalantly whistling a tune. The lack of fear in Philip’s eyes infuriated the duelist, who decided to keep the shot for himself.

And now, five years had passed. Graves had finally settled down and was expecting an heir. But now his old enemy stood before him, pointing a revolver at him. This time, fear surged in Philip’s eyes.

“What’s going on here?” came his wife’s startled cry. Her small feet hurriedly descended the staircase. “My dear, don’t worry. The gentleman is just joking. You’d better return to the room,” Graves assured her.