The rain poured relentlessly, a curtain of grey. The flickering streetlights cast shadows on the wet pavement. A lone figure stood beneath a dripping awning. He was tall and thin, dressed in a dark suit. His face was obscured by the shadows. He held a small, leather-bound notebook in his hand. He looked at the address, a weathered, old house. He took a deep breath and walked towards the door. He reached for the brass knocker, his knuckles white. He paused, his eyes darting to the window above. A faint light flickered within, a single candle burning in the darkness. He knocked twice, the sound sharp and echoing in the stillness. He waited, his gaze fixed on the door. The seconds stretched, agonizingly slow. He knocked again, this time harder. Still nothing. He felt a prickle of unease, a cold sensation creeping up his spine. He pulled out a key, a silver one, and inserted it into the lock. He turned it slowly, the lock clicking open with a soft, metallic groan. He pushed the door open, his heart pounding in his chest. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of dust and decay. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. A single room lay before him, dimly lit by the candlelight. A body lay sprawled on the floor, the light catching the glint of a knife protruding from its chest.