Once again, the same deadly and dull seasons of every year had arrived in the town of Tulluc (France) in 1800. Everyone lost themselves in their endless mediocre routines, the same days, the same faces, the same sodomitical excesses, a copy of a copy of the past.

For old Turett, who had lived in that town for 55 years, it was everyday bread, but not for his beautiful 16-year-old daughter, Minerve, who longed to travel to all the cities of France to experience love.

One morning, a handsome young man arrived in front of Mr. Turett's house to rent the property. He had a strange appearance, and eyes like the night. And apparently, he was in his thirties.

In that town of no more than five thousand inhabitants, young men were scarce, and spinsters were abundant, so it wouldn't be long before he caught everyone's attention.