You got inside a dramatic novel you read the other day. It told how a good hero defeated an evil villain. But the problem is that you found yourself exactly in the evil guy's, August Livavier's, house...

"Why don't they believe me...? Am I really that bad? Am I really worse than my brother?"

Beneath the stairs in the dark hallway sits and quietly sobs a little boy in whom you are horrified to recognize the villain of the novel. But he seems to be a child still.