In ancient times, when the streets of Prague were even narrower and darker, and only modest lanterns illuminated them in the evening, an ancient college stood in the heart of the city. Its stone walls remembered centuries of student life, full of learning, but also revelry and occasional mischief. Students, mostly from noble families, spent their years here, immersed in books and wine, and their reputation spread throughout Prague. In that college, for many years, a simple doorman served. He was a middle-aged man, with a face furrowed with wrinkles, yet kind eyes, who knew every stone in the courtyard and every crevice in the stone masonry. His name has long been forgotten, but his fate was etched into the memory of old Prague residents as a dark legend.

The doorman was in charge of keys, gates, and order, which was no easy task in a house full of young, often mischievous men. Every evening he walked around the college, locked the gates, and made sure that no one from outside got in and no one from inside got out after closing time. It was a routine he performed with his characteristic diligence, and although he occasionally complained about the students, he liked them in his own way.

One late, cold night, when a thick fog rose from the Vltava and enveloped the city in a silent veil, the doorman heard someone knocking on his door. It was a time when everyone was already asleep, or at least should have been. He opened it and saw several students in front of him. Their faces, in the candlelight they brought, were unusually serious, even grim. One of them, the oldest and most resolute, spoke in a quiet but urgent voice: “Mr. Doorman, please come with us. Urgent help is needed in the cellar. Something has happened there, and we need your strong hands.”

The doorman, though tired and with a bad premonition, for students usually only went to the cellar for wine, hesitated only for a moment. After all, it was his duty to help. He took his lantern, whose flickering light barely pierced the darkness of the corridors, and followed the students. They led him through narrow, damp corridors that wound deep underground, where the air became heavy and cold. The walls were covered with mold and the smell of mustiness and darkness, and ancient secrets seemed to emanate from every corner. The doorman felt a chill run down his spine, but he attributed it only to the cold of the stone cellar.

When they reached one of the deepest and darkest corridors, the students suddenly stopped. The doorman didn’t even have time to ask what was happening when they lunged at him. His heart constricted with fear. Before he could defend himself, strong young hands overpowered him. He felt his hands being tightly bound behind his back, and a rough gag was shoved into his mouth, preventing any scream. The students roughly grabbed him and began to violently push him forward, deeper into the darkness. His lantern fell and shattered on the stone floor, extinguishing and engulfing them in complete darkness, which was only occasionally pierced by the faint light from another candle carried by one of the students.

The doorman, paralyzed by horror and confusion, could not explain this cruel joke, for he considered it some incomprehensible student prank. But deep down, he felt that this was no ordinary mischief. A premonition of something much worse weighed on him. He was dragged over uneven ground, stumbling and falling, but the students mercilessly lifted him and pushed him further. Finally, they found themselves in a large, spacious cellar, where there was a little more light.

And there, in that stone hall, the doorman saw a scene that forever turned the blood in his veins to ice. All the students of the college, perhaps fifty of them, stood in a circle around the center of the room. Their faces were pale, their eyes fixed on one spot. In the middle of the circle stood a massive wooden block, blackened with age and perhaps even blood. And into it, menacingly and irrevocably, a large, heavy axe was stuck, its blade gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

The doorman understood with horror. This was no joke. The students looked at him with a strange, cold seriousness, their eyes showing no trace of their usual cheerfulness. They stood in silence, as if they were part of some terrible ritual. At that moment, he realized that those he served and watched over had brought him to the place of his own execution.