Igor was twenty-two years old. He had lived alone for four years, alone in the world. His mother died during childbirth, and his father, having raised his only son until he was six years old, fell in love with a bottle of port wine and remained faithful to his beloved until the end of time. Then the boy began to be raised by his aunt and replaced her own son, who, by an absurd accident, died on the lake. Igor's quiet life lasted until he was eighteen. Three months after he came of age, his aunt died of a stroke, bequeathing to Igor an apartment and about one hundred thousand in wooden ones.